Funeral
We were invited to the funeral of a highly venerated Monk on Sunday. The procession to the Pagoda was starting at Tchey school, one of schools I have taught at. We were not quite sure what to expect but it felt unmissable. There was one very strange thing though. The Monk had been dead for two years.
Lori and I set out at lunchtime and got to school to see a large ceremonial coffin with two splendid papier mache horses pulling it, a lovely little chariot for the Head Monk to sit in large numbers of 'our' children and lots of Monks. A large canopy had been erected in the yard and there sat rows of the deceased relatives. All the women in white with shaved heads and the men in white robes as they had become Monks for two days for the Ceremony. There were many old women but very few old men as is the case all over Cambodia. Indeed, there is huge shortage of old people generally, for obvious reasons. Over half of the population is of school age. Just think about that for a moment.
So, as happens everywhere here, there was lots of sitting around waiting for something to happen. I should mention that it was 107 degrees F! Eventually the firecrackers went off to scare away the bad spirits the chanting began and the procession started. It was all very jolly and, as I have found everywhere, the Cambodians were friendly and welcoming but they were just getting on with things and ignoring us, a trait I love. No fussing over us, no staring we just became part of the day.
It seemed odd to us that we walked at the front with the children. The usual order of important people first is reversed here. Afterwards came the ladies then the men then the coffin, being pulled by relatives and, finally, the Chief Monk in a carriage and the other Monks walking.
It was so hot on the tarmac without any shade we thought that we would melt. It was quit a long way, maybe a couple of miles, and there were thousands of us all walking two by two. Thousands of Cambodians, a Texan and a Brit. We all carried flowers, and incense sticks wrapped with a small riel note to place on the coffin at The Pagoda.We were on the main road from Siem Reap to Poipet on the Thai border; in the heat it felt as if we were walking all the way to Thailand. We had an umbrella but could not use it because we would have been higher than the Monk's.
Eventually, we reached the Pagoda where there were even more people waiting and huge jollifications. A beautiful canopy had the coffin for burning under it and everything was covered in flowers. The two year old corpse was removed from the ceremonial coffin and placed in the other one. The kids had all climbed up to get a ringside seat of the body. They kept asking if we were scared. The coffin was duly filled the party was started. There would be chanting all night and food and celebrations until, finally, after two years, the body would be burned. The whole thing was incredible.
When we were walking on the road and melting we gave a thought to what happened to the people of Cambodia when the towns were emptied by the KR and the whole population was marched into the countryside. Ponheary and her family were marched for ten days, she was 13 and her youngest sibling was a baby. They were given no food, in April the temperature would be hotter than it is now. They were terrified, surrounded by bodies and saw the soldiers killing people for minor infarctions all the time. They had to keep the younger children quiet because the soldiers killed any child who made a noise Marina, the youngest surviving sister, was three and frightened of the soldiers. The only way they were able to keep her quiet was by tying a krama (Cambodian scarf) around her eyes so she could not see anything. She still sleeps with krama over her eyes now. It got our little walk in perspective. We could stop at any time, had water and weren't afriad that we were going to killed at any moment. We were not carrying all our possessions and struggling with young children scared out of our minds.
It seems a little odd to wait two years for a funeral but it was because of his importance. It takes some organising to get everything in place and everyone together. In the meantime the body was kept in The Pagoda which raises all sorts of questions that we were unable to get answers to. It is a rare honour to be so part of a community that one gets invited to such personal things. I love this place.
Lori and I set out at lunchtime and got to school to see a large ceremonial coffin with two splendid papier mache horses pulling it, a lovely little chariot for the Head Monk to sit in large numbers of 'our' children and lots of Monks. A large canopy had been erected in the yard and there sat rows of the deceased relatives. All the women in white with shaved heads and the men in white robes as they had become Monks for two days for the Ceremony. There were many old women but very few old men as is the case all over Cambodia. Indeed, there is huge shortage of old people generally, for obvious reasons. Over half of the population is of school age. Just think about that for a moment.
So, as happens everywhere here, there was lots of sitting around waiting for something to happen. I should mention that it was 107 degrees F! Eventually the firecrackers went off to scare away the bad spirits the chanting began and the procession started. It was all very jolly and, as I have found everywhere, the Cambodians were friendly and welcoming but they were just getting on with things and ignoring us, a trait I love. No fussing over us, no staring we just became part of the day.
It seemed odd to us that we walked at the front with the children. The usual order of important people first is reversed here. Afterwards came the ladies then the men then the coffin, being pulled by relatives and, finally, the Chief Monk in a carriage and the other Monks walking.
It was so hot on the tarmac without any shade we thought that we would melt. It was quit a long way, maybe a couple of miles, and there were thousands of us all walking two by two. Thousands of Cambodians, a Texan and a Brit. We all carried flowers, and incense sticks wrapped with a small riel note to place on the coffin at The Pagoda.We were on the main road from Siem Reap to Poipet on the Thai border; in the heat it felt as if we were walking all the way to Thailand. We had an umbrella but could not use it because we would have been higher than the Monk's.
Eventually, we reached the Pagoda where there were even more people waiting and huge jollifications. A beautiful canopy had the coffin for burning under it and everything was covered in flowers. The two year old corpse was removed from the ceremonial coffin and placed in the other one. The kids had all climbed up to get a ringside seat of the body. They kept asking if we were scared. The coffin was duly filled the party was started. There would be chanting all night and food and celebrations until, finally, after two years, the body would be burned. The whole thing was incredible.
When we were walking on the road and melting we gave a thought to what happened to the people of Cambodia when the towns were emptied by the KR and the whole population was marched into the countryside. Ponheary and her family were marched for ten days, she was 13 and her youngest sibling was a baby. They were given no food, in April the temperature would be hotter than it is now. They were terrified, surrounded by bodies and saw the soldiers killing people for minor infarctions all the time. They had to keep the younger children quiet because the soldiers killed any child who made a noise Marina, the youngest surviving sister, was three and frightened of the soldiers. The only way they were able to keep her quiet was by tying a krama (Cambodian scarf) around her eyes so she could not see anything. She still sleeps with krama over her eyes now. It got our little walk in perspective. We could stop at any time, had water and weren't afriad that we were going to killed at any moment. We were not carrying all our possessions and struggling with young children scared out of our minds.
It seems a little odd to wait two years for a funeral but it was because of his importance. It takes some organising to get everything in place and everyone together. In the meantime the body was kept in The Pagoda which raises all sorts of questions that we were unable to get answers to. It is a rare honour to be so part of a community that one gets invited to such personal things. I love this place.
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