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We Asked 6 Young Moroccans What They Think About The Country’s Eid Sheep Ban

BYYassine Hariss

June 2, 2025

Blood splashes stain every street corner as the air thickens with barbecue smoke. Families slowly start making their ways back from morning prayer, ready to dig into massive plates of meat skewers, piled high to mark one of Islam’s most sacred (and mouthwatering) celebrations. We’re of course talking about Eid al-Adha, a religious observance that commemorates Prophet Ibrahim’s willingness to give away his own son to prove his obedience to God. The practice, which is at the crossroads between religion, tradition, and culture, is for millions across the Muslim world an intimate performance of faith and a ritual that connects generations across centuries through a shared act of devotion that is now inseparable from the very essence of the holy day itself.

So when King Mohammed VI of Morocco issued an official directive discouraging his own citizens from performing qurbani (the animal sacrifice) this year, the response was immediate and anything but unanimous. While some understood the decision as a pragmatic response to worsening economic pressures, soaring prices, and deflating purchasing powers, others saw it as a disruption of a sacred rhythm of life that should remain untouched, even in the face of hardship.

The context is, unsurprisingly, complex: with inflation continuing to squeeze household budgets and the price of livestock reaching levels many families simply cannot follow, the royal order was framed by many as a gesture of relief: a way to spare the population from the financial strain of upholding a costly tradition. For others, that relief was overshadowed by a sense of disorientation, even quiet outrage, at the idea that one of Islam’s most significant rites could be set aside so easily, by decree.

To understand the mood on the ground–and the emotional, religious, and economic stakes of this decision–we spoke to six young Moroccans across different backgrounds about how they’re interpreting the king’s call, and what Eid al-Adha means to them when its central act is suddenly swept off the table.

Tachefine Skounti

No one can afford a sheep with prices this high, and those who can aren’t helping anyone. The king is doing the sacrifice on behalf of everyone, and honestly, it’s better that way. People won’t feel obligated to buy one. And prices actually dropped! Last year, sheep were going for around 6,000 to 7,000 dirhams (approximately $760). This year, some were as high as 12,000 ($1,300) for a single family sheep. Every year, Moroccans feel pressured to buy one, even if they don’t have the money, meaning that they’ll do whatever they can to make it happen. But when the king announced that there would be no Eid sacrifice this year, prices fell back to the levels we knew before COVID, around 2,000 to 4,000 dirhams (I’m not totally sure on the exact numbers, but it’s roughly in that range). And for the first time, people don’t feel that pressure, because the king is doing it for everyone.

Salim Bourezgui

These last few years in Morocco have been especially dry. It barely rained— and when it did, it wasn’t at the right time. That made sheep fodder extremely expensive, and logically, sheep prices skyrocketed. On top of that, there’s the reseller mafia— known as chenna9a. They operate in almost every field, not just livestock. In this case, they buy up huge quantities of sheep directly from the source at low prices, then resell them piece by piece to final customers at absurd markups. Some of them even managed to access government subsidies to buy— and even import— sheep from countries like Brazil, despite already making huge profits. Then there’s the social pressure Moroccans face around Eid. Those who can’t afford a sheep often feel ashamed for not being able to provide one for their family. That pressure only grows with the direct or subtle humiliation they may face from neighbors, or even from their wives. If a man can’t afford a sheep, he’s made to feel like less of a man. And even if he manages to buy a small one, he still might hear degrading comments like: “This isn’t a sheep, it’s the size of a goat” or “What kind of sheep is this? Look at your neighbor Abdullah— now he got a real one.”

I remember one summer a few years ago when Eid fell in August. It also happened to coincide with back-to-school season. How is someone who earns 3,000 dirhams a month supposed to cover rent, buy a “good enough” sheep, take his family on vacation, and pay for school supplies? Personally, I think the king’s decision to cancel Eid sacrifice this year is one of the best things he’s done for the che3b in a long time. This isn’t even about me. I just feel genuinely relieved knowing that a lot of men won’t have to go through that intense stress, shame, and humiliation this year just to buy a sheep. Prices of basic necessities have shot up over the last few years— chicken, red meat, olive oil, even butagaz— but salaries have stayed the same, and let’s be honest, they’re not going up anytime soon.

Nisrine Bezzari

Sheep were getting way too expensive. Some people were even thinking of selling their TVs just to afford one for Eid. So our king stepped in to stop that. It’s more of a message to sellers: stop raising prices like crazy. And now, prices are finally starting to go down. Honestly, it was a good move. It helps poor families and keeps things a bit more fair.

Actually, this kind of thing has happened before. King Hassan II didn’t completely cancel Eid, but in 1996 and 1997, he suspended the public sheep sacrifice because of a severe drought and tough economic conditions. It had become too difficult for people to afford sheep, and the country needed to protect its livestock. Eid still took place, just without the slaughter.

Sophia El Bahja

The ban on sheep this year was a very wise decision, one that should have been implemented last year, when prices were extremely high too. Many people who were already struggling financially ended up taking loans just to afford a sheep. We’ve lost sight of the true essence of Eid. As Muslims, Eid al-Adha is meant to be a time of spiritual reflection and generosity, not financial burden. These days, the focus has shifted too much toward performing the udhiyah (sacrifice), while the meaning behind it is often forgotten.

What’s surprising, though, is that despite the ban, some people in difficult financial situations still went ahead and bought sheep. That’s concerning, because the whole point of the ban was to relieve that pressure from those who can’t afford it.

Yasmine Jeffal

Honestly, I’m really torn. It’s weird to ban something as important and symbolic as the sacrifice for Eid, especially since it’s such a deeply rooted religious tradition. But at the same time, given the drought and the country’s critical situation, I get it. It might actually be a good thing to protect resources that are becoming more and more scarce (and expensive) and to stop people from going broke just to buy a sheep. So yeah, it feels strange, but it also comes from a good intention for the sake of the country… I don’t know, the whole situation feels quite complicated.

Ghita Jazouli

I grew up in Morocco, and I know for a fact that many Moroccans— even deeply faithful ones— often buy a sheep and go through the sacrifice more out of social pressure than personal conviction. It’s about not being labeled poor. The sacrifice is expensive but people still do it to save face, to show that they too can afford it even though religion clearly says you’re not expected to do it if you can’t afford it.

That’s why I think the decision to put it off this year is actually a great one. Now people have a legitimate reason not to do it. They can simply say, “I’m following the king’s orders,” and avoid the judgment. It gives people a kind of cover. They’re not skipping the sacrifice out of spiritual weakness, instead, they’re being good citizens. I’m sure it came as a relief for many who were stressing about how to afford it again this year. It definitely lifts a huge weight off a lot of people’s shoulders.

Also, let’s talk about inflation; it’s insane right now in Morocco. There aren’t many policies adjusting wages to match the rising cost of living, and people are already struggling just to buy everyday groceries.

So honestly, I think a lot of people are secretly, or openly, happy that it’s officially off this year. And I don’t blame them.

We Asked 6 Young Moroccans What They Think About The Country’s Eid Sheep Ban

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We Asked 6 Young Moroccans What They Think About The Country’s Eid Sheep Ban

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