Having been exposed to my first Idul Adha experience last year, I was thrilled to have the opportunity of a second year to learn more about the specific traditions surrounding this celebration in Indonesia.
Idul Adha, often called Eid al-Adha outside of Indonesia, reflects the story of Ibrahim and Ishmael. Similar to the way Ibrahim sacrificed a ram after an angel told him he did not actually need to sacrifice his son, Muslims around the world sacrifice cattle, goats, and sheep, and share the meat from these animals with family, friends, neighbors, and the poor.
Last year, after being forgotten about in all of the excitement (understandably), I never saw the actual sacrifices done at my school. This year, however, I was part of most of the day’s celebrations. I was picked up early in the morning by my kepala sekola (headmaster), and taken to his family’s Idul Adha.
The day starts with prayer: the streets are filled throughout the morning with people going to and from the local mosques, and parts of some streets are even closed. Because I was going to my headmaster’s mother’s house, I observed most of this from the windows of his car. Watching Ibu-Ibu and Bapak-Bapak walk home in their prayer clothes is one of my favorite sights here: it reminds me of the chatting that happens after Sunday mass lets out in my hometown, and while I am not religious, I admire the community that comes out of religion.
One everyone returns home from prayer, the sacrifices begin. One bull was already sacrificed by the time we arrived (only males can be sacrificed for Idul Adha), and I was ushered to the front of the crowd surrounding the area where the sacrifices were taking place (there are times when being an honored guest can get you into slightly awkward situations), a spot it seemed many others were vying for.
My kepala sekolah’s family sacrificed three bulls, two of which were slaughtered by my kepala sekolah himself. His wife, who babbled away throughout the entire ceremony, providing me with wonderful insights into all I was seeing without me even having to ask, told me the person with the highest position was the one who ought to potong (cut) the animals, and in this case it was him. Prior to cutting the animals throat above a hole dug into the ground to catch the blood, he read off seven names, his voice drawing out each name so that it sounded almost like the praying I hear during sholat at school. (A cow is enough to cover seven people, while a sheep or goat is enough for one. When I asked, it seemed people only needed to be covered by an animal once they reached a certain age, but it was unclear to me what age that was.)
Following the slaughter, the carcass was skinned, and the meat was divided into even portions. Last year, I was able to help with this portion of Idul Adha at my school, but because I was in more of a desa (village) setting, the day’s events followed a more traditional route, and it was only the men who surrounded the piles of fresh beef. I sat with the women during this time, chatting and smiling for a million selfies.
Following this, however, the meat was brought to the kitchen, and it was the women’s turn to take over. At first, I was told to sit and watch from the corner (again, being in a unique position as a guest is sometimes challenging to navigate), but eventually dived in anyway, and was soon skewering meat onto tiny wooden sticks, to be grilled into sate later.
Eventually, after eating more than our fill and talking for hours, we worked our way back into the city, stopping as we went to drop meat off at various homes and organizations (I believe this was the portion designated for the poor). The children fell asleep,
I can’t fully express how thankful I am to have been so welcomed, for the second year in a row, into this Muslim celebration. Coming from a country where many Muslim students still have to miss school to participate in this important holiday (though the recent change in New York City gives me hope that this might change), the beauty of this day and how it plays out here is certainly not lost on me. Like so many holidays, both religious and secular, this holiday brings families and whole communities together, for a day of sharing food, laughter, tradition, and love.
 To be honest, I actually didn’t know I was going to an Idul Adha sacrifice when I was picked up. I had been told I was going to a school celebration on Saturday (which I ended up coming very late to, due to car-pool confusion, so I’m actually quite glad I had an unexpected day of Idul Adha), but all my kepala sekolah told me about Thursday was that he wanted to introduce me to his family. But, as it usually goes in Indonesia, I was surprised (pleasantly so) when we got to our destination. The only bummer was that I only had my phone, and not my actual camera, with me for the event.