In time for lunch

As I sat in the window booth of the Grand Vezir, where we have been taking our meals, I examined the stone wall that borders the courtyard. And as I was noting the notched construction from the first century and the fluted brickwork fromt the tenth , a man led a cow past the window. Two girls, age six and ten, accompanied him. My first thought, especially with the presence of the children, was that because today was Eid, the official holiday of Turkey, that the animal was part of some celebrative occasion.

When I put that together with the man that I had seen wearing green plastic overalls and a knife strapped to his leg, I knew in an instant that the steer was indeed part of the celebration. What I did not know is that on Eid, every family sacrifically kills a lamb or a cow and shares the meat in a festive dinner and distributes the rest to the extended family. In the Islamic tradition, these animals have been raised humananely and their death is a sacred ceremony.

The next question in my mind was, do I watch? I asked my table mates who were coming to the same conclusion, as to the fate of the cow, as I was.

We talked about whether witnessing the event would be voyarism and questioned why we would wish to see people kill an animal. And while it seemed strange, especially after some of us had ordered meat dishes, it seemed right that we witness a religious tradition in action, since that is what our trip is about. We approached the owner for permission and, of course, he was hospitable to our request . (The Turkish custom is to accommodate any request from a guest, so whether he had feelings about the group of six of us standing around watching I don't know at this point.

It was, as per ceremony, a quick and humane death. Religious chants filled the air as the steer was brought to the ground. His face was covered with a cloth and someone stroked him as the man with the knife slit his neck. Someone commented that it was a much better death than the factory farming traditions in the United States.

After the death, where there were no children present, several of us, feeling a bit spent, went back inside. Others stayed and photographed the team of men who made quick work to butcher the animal. The children appeared again for this process.

We had lunch and by the time the meal was over, a pile of meat lay on a plastic sheet in the back part of the courtyard. The men were hosing down the tile and cleaning up.

Early in the morning before breakfast, we attended prayers as the Blue Mosque. The prime minister was in attendance, and international media cameras were lined up at the gate. As we made our way in, we were patted down by security guards and our bags were examined. The team of officers were quick and efficient. Plastic bags for our shoes were available as we reached the steps into the mosque. Shelves in the back of the large domed hall held literally thousands of pairs of shoes. Thousands of people shuffled in bare or stockinged feet as a voice explained the meaning of Eid in Turkey.

As soon as the formal prayers were made, people filed out almost as quickly as they filed in. Retrieving our shoes was much more efficient that I thought it would be. As I exited the mosque, a man stood holding a large flat box filled with Turkish delights, jelled fruit and walnut squares coated with powdered sugar. He offered me one of the last ones, and I took it gratefully.

In the courtyard, there were two kiosks where cups of a delicious lentil soup were made available free of charge. The white uniformed chefs wore aprons, plastic gloves and mouth coverings. The giving of small gifts is another tradition of Eid.

Thousands of people stood greeting each other in the mosque courtyard, drinking soup and smoking cigarettes. (Public smoking is still permitted here.) A loud speaker broadcast the end of the service inside. When the final prayer began, everyone turned to face the mosque and stod in reverence. When it ended, conversations started and more people streamed out of the mosque to the thousands of cups of soup that stood waiting for them.

Before breakfast, I pondered a holiday that was not based on the money. At lunch, I experienced a culture that paid homage to the source of food and sustainance. As I prepare for sleep, I think about how real life can be -- whether you are living it or bearing witness to its complexities.