Egyptians prepare for this year’s Eid Al Adha balancing religious duty with increasing fatigue over rising prices, as many families cut back on or forego entirely the tradition of slaughtering a sheep for the feast.
In Cairo’s working-class Ain Shams district, Sanaa El Sayed, 53, has for years set aside an amount of money each year to buy meat, keeping some for her household and sharing the rest with relatives.
But after a decade when her Eid budget has barely increased, high inflation means her budget now buys far less meat, forcing her to rethink how she celebrates the holiday.
At a Giza livestock market, the price of a sheep is about 22,000 Egyptian pounds ($420), far beyond the reach of most Egyptians whose monthly earnings are in the low thousands even after recent minimum wage increases.
Ms El Sayed has decided to pool money with neighbours to share the cost of one animal, while others say they will limit themselves to a more symbolic participation in the feast by buying a few kilos of meat.
“For many years now, every Eid feels less and less like the holiday we grew up with,” said Gihan Sameh, 43, from Giza.
Ms Sameh said this worries her because she sees the hardship as not only economic but spiritual.
She recalls the classic Sharia division of the sacrifice – one third for the immediate family, one third for extended kin, one third for the poor – and fears that when families cannot afford a full animal, that carefully balanced ritual, and the sense of divine favour it carries for believers, becomes eroded.
She recalls buying two sheep for her daughter’s wedding five years ago for about 8,000 pounds ($153) in total. Back then, many households in her income bracket could still stretch to one animal for Eid.
Today’s prices, she said, have pushed the sacrifice out of reach for many, turning what once felt like a spiritual obligation into a tightly budgeted consumption decision.
Livestock traders say the pressure is reflected in weaker demand. Three sellers at markets in Giza and the Nile Delta told The National that trade at this year's Eid season is the slowest they can remember.
“The funny thing is, there is meat of every kind here. There is local meat, which is best, but we also have cheaper cattle from Djibouti and Sudan. Truly, there is so much supply this year, but no one is buying,” said Ibrahim Adel, 39, a seller at the Menouf cattle market in Menoufia province, which draws traders from six neighbouring governorates.
He said he spent the past seven months raising about 1,000 sheep for the Eid season and had sold fewer than 250 with just days to go before the festival.
“I am being forced to bring my price down to where I might as well just give them away for free,” he said.
Alaa Fathy, 41, a seller in Giza, said he cut his price from 210 pounds a kilo to about 185 pounds on Sunday because customers were walking away and he felt that time was running out with the feast starting on Wednesday.
“High supply and little demand” is a common refrain among traders, who see large crowds at markets but far fewer people leaving with animals.
Behind the scenes, feed and fuel costs have risen sharply.
Sellers said the price of animal feed has jumped in the past year, and Egypt’s heavy reliance on imported corn and soybeans leaves local prices exposed to global market swings and foreign currency shortages.
According to a recent feed market report, corn prices have risen by about 26 per cent since the start of the war in Iran at the end of February, which disrupted supply chains. The price of soybeans has risen by close to 85 per cent, pushing up the cost of industrial compound feed by roughly 45 per cent.
Fuel has added strain. Diesel, one of Egypt’s most widely used fuels, has risen from about 13.50 pounds a litre in early 2025 to 20.50 pounds after a series of increases in October and March, a jump of more than 50 per cent, according to official announcements.
Authorities have tried to ease the burden on consumers. The Agriculture Ministry said it has allocated about 15,000 local livestock for sale at discounts of at least 25 per cent through about 600 fixed and mobile outlets nationwide, alongside fresh, chilled and frozen meat offered at below market prices.
These outlets, often set up in busy squares and outside ministry offices, have drawn long queues in the run-up to Eid, a sign that demand remains strong but is being diverted away from open market prices towards subsidised channels.
Religious authorities and state banks have also moved in. The Ministry of Awqaf, working with Banque Misr and the National Bank of Egypt, is offering six-month instalment plans for sacrificial vouchers, with no interest or administrative fees for some customers.
Vouchers are priced at about 7,000 pounds for imported meat and 9,500 pounds for local meat, entitling the buyer to about seven kilograms of meat from a slaughtered animal, with the rest distributed to poor families on the Ministry of Social Solidarity.
Islamic charities and NGOs run parallel schemes, selling similar sacrificial certificates and distributing meat on behalf of donors.
At the same time, some sellers, facing higher costs and lower sales, are ignoring Cairo's municipal health and safety rules by bringing animals into residential areas for sale.
Penning sheep under balconies and inside streets was once a common feature of Eid in Egypt’s cities, but has become rarer after authorities restricted slaughter to licensed areas.
However, operating in licensed areas requires sellers to offer discounted prices, because they are embedded into the government’s cost-cutting scheme, or to pay a fee paid to municipal authorities.
To avoid this, many sellers this year have set up stalls in some of Cairo and Giza’s poorest neighbourhoods where enforcement of regulations is lax or municipal officials can be silenced with a fee, Mr Fathy explained.
On the eve of the feast, the streets, markets and mosques still carry the familiar rhythms of Eid, from children eyeing new clothes to butchers standing proudly next to their displays of fine meats.
Billboards advertise sacrificial meat and holiday offers, television stars line up to wish viewers a blessed Eid, and mobile phones buzz with automated greetings from state agencies.
Yet beneath the surface, many Egyptians say the holiday feels heavier than before, as the rising cost of devotion forces them to redraw the line between rituals that are essential and what they can no longer manage.
For many, the Eid they grew up with, of plentiful meat, unhurried visits and less anxious talk about money, is giving way to a leaner, more calculated celebration that keeps the form of the feast, but not always the ease that once surrounded it.
