I have mentioned that Kashgar is a Muslim city that is known for trading. I wanted to detail this encounter we had.

Walking down a lane in Kashgar’s old city, Galen and I came upon a handful of men with a sheep on a rope leash. We watched as one of the men picked up the sheep, turned it over and felt it out. The sheep did not seem to like this process.

Some more things were said, but, of course, we did not know what they said as they were speaking Uighur. One of the men walked by, and, in English, told us that the sheep weighed about thirty kilos (sixty pounds).

I shrugged at Galen, not really sure what was going on. We were about to move on, but the men dragged the sheep into the middle of the road, near the sewer’s manhole cover. The two of us stopped. I still did not know what was going on, but I was aware that something was happening. We watched.

The pressed the sheep down against the stony street. A man approached with a pick ax. I thought, that’s no way to kill a sheep. Instead, the man poked the manhole cover and tried to leverage it up. After a few attempts, the cover refused to budge. The man put the pick ax away.

The real business commenced.

One man laid a small blade against sheep’s neck. She resisted, but a second man held her down. The blade crossed her neck almost in slow motion. I am sure it was much slower for the sheep. Blood flowed forth quickly, though smoothly, not at all gushing, like you see in the movies.

I showed these pictures to my wife, a veterinary pathologist. As a part of her work, she regularly cuts the head off of large animals. One thing that bothered her was how long it took to kill this sheep. The process, she said, should be quick. Slit the throat, working your way back a little with the blade, and then snap the head back and break the spine.

But this sheep was still kicking for a good three to four minutes. It was clear that these people were not very experienced butchers.

Also, an experienced butcher probably would not have dropped his money into the blood!

I will conclude with something Galen said. “I like mutton. It’s got to come from somewhere.”

For those who did not get a chance to see this before, check out our other dead sheep experience, the thirty-five frozen lamb carcasses that got placed on our bus as we entered Xinjiang.