TOMBALL, Tex. — Syed Raza and his wife, Jeanne Chilson-Raza, prefer not to use the word slaughterhouse.
And Hira Halal Meat, their business in this small city an hour’s drive north of Houston, looks more like a petting zoo than an abattoir. An artistically carved granite rock greets visitors at the entrance. Palm trees and potted plants dot a vast field where guests can mingle with miniature horses named Peaches and Sunshine, or play with Oso, a fluffy, golden Great Pyrenees and collie mix.
Behind a tangle of shrubbery lies a small metal building with a discreet white door that leads to a room where about 150 goats and lambs are slaughtered in an average week. They also process chickens.
Ms. Chilson-Raza also raises miniature horses.CreditLoren Elliott for The New York Times
The family follows the tenets of zabiha, the sacred Muslim tradition of ritual slaughter, which requires that animals be killed in the name of God, with as little pain as possible, and that the blood be drained. That principle is essential to ensuring that the meat is halal — that is, in accordance with Islamic law, which emphasizes respect for the animal’s life. This is why “slaughterhouse” has never felt quite right to the couple.
“I tell people we have a meat processing plant,” Mr. Raza said.
Conventional meat producers have been scrutinized and denounced for years by animal rights groups. Lately, that fire has been directed at some halal and kosher slaughterhouses in the United States and the United Kingdom that activists say have treated animals cruelly, as they are often killed while still conscious. In January, Belgium banned the Muslim and Jewish methods of ritual slaughter, saying they subjected animals to too much pain. Denmark did the same in 2014.
Mr. Raza and Ms. Chilson-Raza say they want to help reverse those negative perceptions, providing a clean, welcoming setting for ritual slaughter to serve a sizable Muslim population. The Council on American-Islamic Relations estimates the Houston area has about 80,000 Muslims, but there are only eight halal slaughterhouses, according to Lara M. Anton, a spokeswoman for the Texas Department of State Health Services.
In other regions with large Muslim populations, similar operations offer custom slaughters, like ENA Meat Packing in Paterson, N.J., and Nature’s Bounty in Vacaville, Calif. — but not many. Mr. Raza said that is because the business is not particularly lucrative. Goat and lamb meat have low profit margins compared with that of pork; pigs breed profusely and have more omnivorous diets. (Muslims are forbidden to eat pork.)
When Mr. Raza, 58, immigrated from Karachi, Pakistan, in 1980, he knew of only one store in the Houston area that sold halal meat. “The entire Muslim community would go over there, but it was so limited,” he said. Some conventional slaughterhouses in the Houston area started offering halal meat, but Mr. Raza said they “weren’t focused on cleanliness.”
There was also no place to perform qurbani, the killing of an animal during Eid al-Adha, the annual feast at the end of hajj, as well as the slaughters that take place during special occasions. This tradition commemorates the devotion of Abraham, who was prepared to sacrifice his son at God’s command.
Mr. Raza married Ms. Chilson-Raza, an Army veteran from California, in 1990, and she converted to Islam two years later. They bought a 12-acre property in 2000 to accommodate their horses and give their six children an outdoor area where they could play with friends.
In 2008, a family friend suggested that the couple host qurbani for a small group to celebrate Eid al-Adha, and somewhat reluctantly, they agreed.
Mr. Raza recalled his childhood in Karachi, when the celebrations surrounding qurbani were “the most joyful time.” He and his brothers would select the animal and sometimes participate in the sacrifice, with the help of local slaughterhouses that would provide chai, and tents for people to socialize. One-third of the meat would be distributed to the poor, another third to other friends and relatives.
The state of Texas requires that anyone slaughtering animals apply for permission and submit to an inspection. Once the couple won approval, they decided to build a commercial operation — a spotless, efficient and family-friendly farm, with animals that were raised compassionately, as Islamic law dictates. But they planted palm trees tall enough to keep customers from seeing the slaughtering area.
“Initially I tried to hide it from people,” Mr. Raza said. “When they asked what we were building, I would say I was starting a business for remodeling cars.”
Learning the ropes was a challenge. Neither the state nor the United States Department of Agriculture provided guidelines on how to build a slaughterhouse. Other slaughtering operations in the area would not allow the couple inside to study their methods.
But they had experience following food-safety standards and providing customer service: They had met while working at a Burger King, and jointly opened 10 Sonic Drive-Ins, which they have since sold.
They decided to focus on custom slaughters rather than selling predominantly to grocers, who they say are often looking just for the lowest price. The slaughterhouse was immediately successful with local Muslims, and Hira Halal Meat expanded, adding a large freezer and more storage space.
In 2009, shortly after the operation began, Mr. Raza and Ms. Chilson-Raza had a local imam come to the farm and certified that their methods met religious standards. They now raise and slaughter 6,000 to 7,000 animals a year, charging about $240 apiece, Ms. Chilson-Raza said.
On a typical business day, a customer first selects an animal from a holding pen. The animal is then run down a long alleyway and into a small room where it is laid on a short rack. Mr. Raza, Ms. Chilson-Raza, an employee or the customer will chant, “Bismillah Allahu akbar,” which roughly translates to “In the name of Allah, Allah is greatest,” and with a sharp knife, slit the throat of the animal in a single motion.
Islamic law directs that the animal’s throat be cut from the neck through the jugular vein and carotid artery so that the spinal cord is not severed and the blood can drain. It’s a process that stresses care for the animal, Mr. Raza said.
Some people contend that administrating an electric shock causes the animal less suffering and does not require as much skill. But the couple believes that theirs is the least painful way to kill an animal, which quickly loses feeling after the throat is cut.
In a large, white-walled processing room, the animal is skinned, washed, stamped and placed in a cooler. On a recent afternoon, there were no slaughters scheduled for the day, but there were a few remnants of the week’s earlier jobs: thick, black, rubber aprons were hung off a metal shelving unit, shaggy goat skins were slumped over a fence ready to be tanned, and the cooler was filled with carcasses wrapped tightly in plastic. (In periodic visits, state inspectors have cited some violations — like roaches and ants on the kill floor, and a leaking vent — but nothing unusual in the meat business, according to Ms. Anton of the state health department.)
Hira Halal Meat’s regular customers can’t imagine life without the place. When Nishaat Ali, a Houston homemaker, lived in Chicago, her husband would perform qurbani alone, “because he didn’t think we’d be comfortable,” she said. “Here, I have taken in my daughters and my son. It connects them to their religion. For me, it is priceless.”
Ms. Ali, 35, said she has visited the farm just so her daughters could ride the ponies.
Naghman Sheikh, 50, who sells cellphones, nearly became a vegetarian because he didn’t trust the halal meat at grocery stores. Nowadays “I don’t go the grocery store,” he said. “I go to the Razas’. You don’t feel filthy. You can breathe in fresh air. You can feel the respect for another life.”
But Sam Kouka, 50, who owns Mercy Slaughter, a halal operation 20 miles away, said he was skeptical that Hira’s method was truly humane, since the farm uses force to bring the animals to slaughter. “I’ve seen the way they hold the front and back leg to intimidate the animal, but this is not acceptable,” he said.
Mr. Raza said he does that to prevent kicking, adding that the process can never be free of force, as “any time you catch an animal they are distressed.”
They occasionally meet locals who don’t understand what exactly the word halal entails. “People have this phobia against Islam,” Ms. Chilson-Raza said. “They think halal slaughter is something crazy and weird.”
But they say they have an increasing number of non-Muslim customers. “I’d like to think we have changed some minds,” said Ms. Chilson-Raza, 57.
Business has been steady over the last decade, but Mr. Raza and Ms. Chilson-Raza hope to switch gears for their next venture: a corporate retreat in Colorado offering equine therapy, in which patients care for and ride horses.
“I don’t mind the slaughter part, but it is not something I am in love with doing,” Ms. Chilson-Raza said, gazing toward her horses. “I actually really love animals.”
