I am not proud of humans. I am not happy that our consumption of animals is a social norm, not matter the culture. I am not glad that we as the dominant species, can manipulate our power.

Today, I went to a slaughterhouse. A slaughterhouse who focuses on the production of cow, sheep, and goat for consumption. Waking up at 6:00am, I was confused as to how I was able to do this during my life as a high schooler. That’s a lie- I woke up at a later time, and it was still painful, however I exploded out of bed; afraid I was going to be late. What was I going to wear? The previous visits to the slaughterhouse made me recognize that Ketaki, Sierra and I looked out of place. Not only were we young American women, but we didn’t fit the attitude of the city. I decided on a black sweatshirt and jeans. Appropriate enough to wear at this “funeral”, I thought. I had waves of panic, is this really what I wanted to see? I have to pause videos on the internet of animals dying, taking breaks in between my waves of nausea, so why do I think I can see it face to face? I freaked out and really wondered if this was okay for me.

The street of the slaughterhouse was populated by men. The stereotype of cold hearted men flooded my mind when I saw the multiple men around the dead carcasses of cattle, holding knives. It didn’t help that the sky was still dark, and the poorly lit street made the scenery look like the an opening scene of a horror movie. We arrived a couple minutes before our Professor, which allowed me to take in my surroundings, rather than rushing into the building. The atmosphere of us girls standing together was nothing but uneasiness. Not only does this feeling come somewhat common to females when we are surrounded by men, but seeing the men huddled around piles of meat, greeting each other as if it were a regular day made me especially feel like I was on another planet.

There was a lot of movement in and out of the slaughterhouse. A man came out from the building, walking to his car that was coincidentally right next to where we were standing, covered in blood from the knees down. He opened his trunk and proceeded to change his clothes right there. Coming from someone who does this for a living, he was doing what he had to do. This was regular to him. Coming from someone who has the occupation of a student, having no day to day confrontation with death, this was not regular to me. Moments later our professor arrived and he received a call and we were rushed inside. We greeted the man we met yesterday, who had the authority to let us see the slaughter. He was dressed like we was about to go on camera, representing the business. With his white hat on, we proceeded to enter the bloodbath. We were led into a meeting room, introducing ourselves to other men of status in the company. As the men conversed in Darija, I tried my best to focus on my breathing, trying to prepare for what I was going to see. However, my time was cut short when they said, “Ready? Let’s go”

Before I knew it, we were all in a slaughter room. There was around 10 men inside, talking to one another. From my side view, I could see multiple men sharpening knives, in the front were hanging bodies of sheep already skinned. It wasn’t until I looked to my left that I saw about 7 sheep all huddled together. It took every power I had to not run and beg them to spare at least one for me. I just wanted to grab one and hug it and tell them everything will be okay. But that lie wouldn’t help anyone; I knew they would die in the next few minutes and they knew they would meet the fate of the hanging bodies of the sheep who they probably just witness moments before. There was a man with red pants, who was holding a knife, facing us. He had a strong build and his face was hard, one eye was blind. He began by grabbing the legs of the sheep, putting them on the ground and quickly slitting their throats. He grabs the next one, placing it next to the first. Slit. Next sheep.

Once he finished the slicing of the neck part, all what was left was the view of sheep suffocating on each other’s blood. As their bodies began twitching, the veterinary told us it was just due to their nerves. Being a Biology major, I was expecting this response, however seeing their bodies move made it seem like they were fighting for those extra seconds of life. I forgot to breathe for a couple minutes, and my body started paying for it. All of a sudden sounds began sounding differently, the room was spinning, and I couldn’t feel my limbs. I wanted to leave the room so badly, all that was in my head was the intense iron smell from the amount of blood produced. I was in this state for 5 minutes, until I finally convinced myself that if I didn’t move in the next minute, I would face plant on the feces and blood covered floor. I don’t know how I managed the words, “I need a minute” and had the ABILITY to move my legs to walk out the room. Outside it felt like I was in a high school hallway, except at this high school, only male butchers attended and instead of lockers it was just hanging bodies of meat.

I figured I was done being weak and walked back into the room. I was wrong, because it was skinning time. The man with the one eye, began by cutting one of its hooves and attaching the sheep’s ligament onto the hanger. I was amazed to realize how strong our muscle cells are, for those two muscles carried the sheeps entire weight    . Recalling my memories, I feel as though I “blacked-out” during the rest of the time. I focused on trying to make through our meeting, rather than trying to take mental notes of what is happening.

Alas, I know that this consumption will continue happening. To me, it doesn’t really matter in which way they are killed, Halal or not, because the animal dies in the end. No matter what, people will continue eating meat, even if they know it is bad for their health or bad for the environment. At the end of the day though, I am glad I got this opportunity, and especially glad I got to do it in Rabat.