The Silence of the Lambs

(with apologies to Hannibal Lecter)

... still on hiatus, still in denial about having to soon leave the land of courteous motorists, dvd-rentals, poppyseed bagels & non-abrasive toilet paper, still hoping that I can bag a jackpot on this weekend's lottery but have just realised that I can avoid one of Islam's great shames - the ritual & mindnumbingly wasteful slaughter of gazillions of sheep (over 6 million killed last January in Morocco alone) -this winter. And when I say avoid, I mean not be there. That almost (repeat: almost; nope, repeat it again: almost) makes me want to go back. Or at the very least, it takes the sting out. Or more accurately, it takes one of the stings out.

Yes, just moments ago, Mr. Cat in Rabat sent me the dates for Ramadan 2006 because like any sentient ex-pat living in Morocco, we must make cunning plans for our liquor haul & consumption. An alumna from the School of Once Bitten Twice Shy, I will not, will not, will not repeat last year's mistake of "hoarding" 1 feeble bottle of Rosé and half a dozen beer for the entire month. What in god's name had I been thinking? Besides, this time I will have Mr. Cat in Rabat with me, whose beer consumption alone rivals his capacity to inhale oxygen. So having just been apprised that Ramadan will be over by the 3rd week of October, the tiny hamster-generated apparatus in my head started a-whirrrrring & I have calculated that Eid El Kebir (or Eid ul-Adha as its more commonly referred to in Morocco, or The Day of Reckoning as it's more commonly referred to by our ovine friends) will fall around New Year's. O joy! O bliss!

Now, why do I care? - or more importantly, why should you care? Indeed, why is this snippet of calendrical prognostication even blogworthy?

For no other reason than you, dear reader, will likely be spared another diatribe in the same vein as last year's general freak-out when a sheep was butchered beneath my bedroom window. Since this year's Silence of the Lambs will coincide with the Christmas holidays (aka, the Silence of the Turkeys), I will have hied myself to a sheep-friendly country where I won't have to listen to the screams of frenzied lambs, smell the roasting of their skulls & offal, or watch pairs of gruesome itinerant butchers, clad in bloodied aprons and rubber boots, walk the deserted streets of Rabat brandishing their knives. If I thought that I wouldn't spill my coffee, I'd tippy-tap a happy dance.

In fact, in honour of "avoiding" this year's Silence of the Lambs Eid El Kebir, I might even celebrate with a light supper of fava beans and a nice Chianti.