Soft and silky karakul is one of Afghanistan’s chief exports. But critics say it is cruel and un-Islamic.

The newborn lamb struggled to stand on unsteady feet. As it collapsed in an ungainly heap on the ground, its gray pelt attracted the attention of Rahmat Bai, the owner of the herd. He ordered the lamb slaughtered. The bleating of the baby attracted its mother, still in pain from the delivery. She could do nothing except add her complaints, in a plaintive crescendo of “ bah bah bah.” The sound swept through the herd, and on to the cattle, who also began to stir.

But Rahmat Bai stood by his resolve. The newborn lamb was part of his valuable karakul herd, and its silky pelt would fetch a high price on the export market.

Dubbed by critics “ the cruelest fur,” karakul is the skin of newborn or even unborn lambs, prized for its softness and silk-like texture. Known variously as “ astrakhan” or “Persian lamb”, karakul has been a major export of Afghanistan since the beginning of the 20th century, when herd owners from Bukhara sought refuge from the Soviet Army in Afghanistan, bringing their sheep with them.

The hardy karakul sheep can withstand the harsh climate of Afghanistan’s North, with its cold, snowy winters and brutally hot summers. And despite the criticism, the fur is highly prized in Europe.

But the practice of killing newborn sheep sits uneasily on the consciences of herd owners. Many deem the practice un-Islamic, and businessmen such as Rahmat Bai are at some pains to justify their actions.

“The mother is not strong enough to care for the baby,” he insisted. “Killing the newborn is good for the mother. She can get stronger, and will be healthy enough to bear another baby next year.”

Once the lamb is a few days old, its pelt loses the characteristic watered-silk look; it dries out and becomes longer. At that point it is ordinary sheepskin, sold for a fraction of the price of karakul.

Within Afghanistan, the main use for karakul is for the type of hat that President Hamid Karzai has made famous. But many consider the characteristic headgear old-fashioned, and far fewer are now being sold than in previous years, say merchants.

Still, the karakul hat has its fans.

“I have been wearing karakul hats for more than 20 years,” said Satar Khan, a resident of Mazar-e-Sharif. “My head hurts if I do not wear my hat. I have worn out more than 10 of them.”

The fur enjoys wide demand in Europe, where it is made into high-priced coats.

According to Mohammad Askar Sultani, a resident of Mazar-e-Sharif, karakul trading is gaining popularity among Northern businessmen of Balkh, Kunduz, Jowzjan and Faryab provinces.

Sultani denied that pregnant sheep are slaughtered to obtain the skins of their unborn lambs.

 “This is a rumor circulated by those who want to damage the karakul industry,” he insisted.

But Naqibullah Arzang, a karakul exporter in Mazar, said that he and other merchants obtain pelts from individuals who sell them at the bazaar, as well as from butchers who buy pregnant sheep and then slaughter them secretly.

Killing pregnant sheep is banned by the Ministry of Public Health. It is also unlawful in Islam, according to Imam Mullah Mohammad Qasim, of Mazar’s Hazrat-e-Ali shrine.

“There is no Hadith or verse in the Holy Koran that allows the slaughter of pregnant or new-born animals,” he said.

Mullah Mir Abdul Nafai, former head of the Balkh Department of the Haj and Islamic Affairs, agrees.

“Killng pregnant animals and their babies only to sell their skins is un-Islamic,” he said. He pointed out that the practice had been banned during the Taliban, and the karakul trade went into recession. The Taliban also outlawed karakul hats.

Once the Taliban left, the karakul trade picked up again.

According to the head of the Balkh Chamber of Commerce, Sayeed Tahir Roshanzada, karakul exports climbed steadily after 2003, reaching a peak in 2006. He said that government revenue from karakul exports in 2006 approached $50 million.

 Since that time, a combination of factors, such as the global recession, drought in the North, and other market influences have combined to depress the karakul trade.

But Haji Sayeed Mohammad, a merchant in Mazar, has done well for himself. “In 2009, I exported 210,000 karakul skins,” he boasted. He claimed to have made $5 million.

Mir Zaman Popal, general manager of the export office from the Afghanistan Chamber of Commerce said that in 2008 the country earned nearly $14 from karakul exports.

The skins go mainly to Britain, Denmark, Finland and China, he added. The most common colors are grey and black, although beige and other tints are also popular.

Preparing karakul skins for use is a laborious and time-consuming process, say herders, which in part accounts for the high price of the pelts.

Mohammad Ayub, a karakul trader, described the procedure.

“The small pelt is first sprinkled with salt, and, in batches of 20-25, left to dry in the sun for one day,” he said. “Then we wrap the skins in leather, and wet them with a mixture of water, salt and corn flour. They are left to season for 18-20 days. Then we wash them clean and dry them in the sun.”

After they are dry, the skins are given to skilled workers who cut them into pieces ready for export.

Dr. Mohammad Hashim, head of Balkh’s Department of Veterinary Services, told Afghanistanvotes.com that eating the meat of pregnant animals is not only forbidden in Islam, it creates various health problems.

“It causes disturbances in the digestive system,” he said. “ And animals may have infectious diseases which are easily communicated to humans.”

Dr. Mirwais Rabai, head of the Balkh Health department, confirmed that many illnesses and even deaths are caused by animal diseases that are somehow transferred to humans.

But for those committed to the karakul trade, the benefits far outweigh the risks.

“I am proud of my profession,” said Rahmat Bai, whose nickname is Ming Kuli Bai, or ‘owner of a thousand sheep’.  “ I like being known as an exporter of karakul.”