Life & Loss in a Different Culture

Death is a tricky subject. No one wants to see their loved ones pass away and the whole process can be emotionally traumatic but at the same time it is inescapable. Coming from a Catholic background my relationship with death has always been very westernized, that is to say that when there is a death in my life it’s usually met with a hefty amount of grieving and sadness. Luckily for me it’s not very often that someone close to me passes away so when it does happen it’s treated as a significant loss. In Thai culture however death, and all the significant events immediately following, are handled very differently for two very important reasons.

Firstly, the sense of community here is vastly different from back home in the states. This has an interesting effect on death, more specifically the funerals that follow. Because the community here is so tight knit to the point where everyone knows each other funerals become a community event where every one from the village gets together to participate. So whereas back in  the states if your neighbor from down the street has a 90 year old mother named Ethel and she dies it’s pretty unlikely you’re getting an invite to her funeral, but if that same scenario were to take place here in my village the only unlikely thing would be that the woman’s name is Ethel. Inevitably if you’re part of a community here then funerals are going to be pretty commonplace by the time you’re an adult. In just the past month here I’ve been to seven different funerals, now contrast that with the number of funerals I’ve been to back in America which is two. Obviously it’s not that Thai people are dying left and right at an absurd rate (although sometimes I feel like that may be the case) rather the connectedness of each member of the community makes it so that death isn’t just an isolated tragedy that strikes one person’s circle of influence at random. When death happens here the whole community feels it and bares the weight together.

Secondly, and arguably most importantly, death is treated very differently here because of the big B word; Buddhism. Something like 95% of the population in Thailand identify as Buddhist and this has a staggering effect on how death is perceived. In my own personal experience talking with different people in my community about death I often hear people referring to concepts such as “rebirth” and “new life” which is most likely in reference to the idea of reincarnation. Surprisingly (for me at least) I’ve also gotten quite a few responses involving the idea of a Heaven in the afterlife. Now neither of these concepts are exclusive to the teachings of Buddhism but the point I’m trying to make here is that most, if not all, Thais believe that their loved ones go to a better place after death. So why does this play such a huge role in how death is perceived if their beliefs in the afterlife mirror what most other religions believe? Well imagine you go to church on a Sunday and on this particular Sunday everyone in attendance is 100% firm in their devotion to God, no if’s, and’s or but’s. Now imagine everyone in this church not only lives on the same block as one another but has also grown up together on this same block for generations. Now stretch your imagination just a tad bit more and go a step further to picture an entire country made up of blocks like the one I just described and you should have a better understanding of why Buddhism plays such a huge factor in people’s perception of death. Sure, I’ve hyperbolized the situation a bit but in all honesty Buddhism is so intertwined with the daily lives of people here it’s much more accurate than it isn’t.

I mentioned previously how funerals are community events and I want to try and give you a first hand account from my perspective on how the entire process plays out. The first ceremony that takes place is called the Rot Nam Sop which is where the body of the recently deceased is laid out at a temple and their community all line up and take turns pouring water over the hand of the deceased. This symbolizes the washing away of any past transgressions and is a really emotionally intense experience if you’re thrown into it without warning (more on that later). Following this on the next day there is a huge meal that the entire community gets in on. This is the part of the funeral I’m most familiar with because of my affiliation with the government office in my village. I always accompany the rest of the squad when they go to any funerals in our village. Following the meal there’s usually a ceremony which involves a lot of praying, monks chanting, and me getting increasingly uncomfortable as I’m forced to sit cross-legged on the ground for long stretches of time. At this point I’m usually done participating but after this all takes place the body of the deceased is cremated and after 100 days the ashes are returned to the family. Needless to say the process is just ever so slightly different from how things go on back in the states. I think if you were to witness a traditional Thai funeral for yourself the biggest difference you’d find is the atmosphere. When Thai’s gather together for a funeral it’s hard not to take note of the relaxed mood of most of the people in attendance. In fact if it wasn’t for the fact that everyone is in black (which is apparently the universal color for tragedy) you might not realize you’re at a funeral at all. When I say they’re community events I mean that there are literally dozens upon dozens of people coming and going, greeting each other, and just generally being their normal, jovial, selves. Coming from the states and my own religious background it was very odd to observe all this the first time around (which was months ago now) but if you look at it in the Thai cultural context it makes a little more sense. Death is a part of life and most often these funerals are for people who have lived long full lives so it makes sense that most people at Thai funerals aren’t openly overcome with grief and sadness. Unfortunately, as is the case with life, some people pass away before their time and usually this changes the mood a bit.

A few weeks ago one of the ladies at my office came up to me to let me know that someone had passed away. It was a man by the name of Pii King who worked in a neighboring village but lived very close by to me. He was actually one of the first people I talked to in my village and he always seemed genuinely happy to see me. We even did a project together in his village when I was still fresh at site still trying to figure out how to say “trash can” properly in Thai. He died from a ruptured blood vessel in his brain at 33 years old with a wife and two kids. That was the first death in Thailand that actually got to me because it’s always a little more heavy when it’s someone you know and doubly so for someone so young. I wasn’t crying my eyes out or anything but it definitely made me stop and have to process everything for a bit before accepting what I was hearing. After I’m informed of his passing I find out that the Rot Nam Sop is that same day and of course I agreed to go. Now this is the crazy part, at this point I’d been to a bunch of funerals but this was actually going to be the first time I’d attend the Rot Nam Sop and although I knew what it entailed I still wasn’t actually prepared for it.

I walk into the temple and immediately I can sense that the mood in the room is very different from what I was accustomed to at other Thai funerals. Everyone was lined up to approach the middle of the room where Pii King was laid out on a raised platform covered in a white sheet. No one in the room was really talking and I could hear Pii King’s wife gently sob as she knelt down next to him. Some of his coworkers and friends stood beside his body as well and all of them wore solemn faces with eyes brimming with tears.  There was a terrible sinking feeling in my gut as I slowly shuffled closer to him and was able to see expressionless face and thought how strange it was to be seeing him like this when just a few days prior he had had such a great smile. Then it came time for me to take part in the ceremony. I knelt down next to Pii King, gave a small bow then poured water from a small bowl onto his already heavily pruned hand that lay over a small vase of flowers. As I got up to leave the temple I gave a few words of thanks to his wife and the people around him and they offered back weak smiles and courteous bows and just like that it was over.

Once I walked out of the temple I was greeted with a much more familiar sight. All around the temple there were groups of Thai people sitting around tables and benches talking to one another, cheerily greeting new arrivals, and just generally being jovial. It was kind of a relief in a way, inside that temple there was so much sadness that you’re almost overwhelmed by it but once you go outside the community creates such a positive aura that washes over you and reminds you that the world is still full of so much life. So while I might be more familiar with the funeral atmosphere inside the temple I can definitely understand the benefits of a Thai funeral’s atmosphere. Death is something that all cultures have in common but the way people approach the concept of death can vary drastically, and who’s to say what practices are right and wrong. In the end we all end up in the same place and those left behind to grieve and mourn do so in a way which suites them best.

 

On one final note I’d like to dedicate this post to my best friend who passed away a couple weeks ago. To my dog, Chip, who was a source of endless love and joy to the entire Fontana family and all the friends that knew him. I’ll miss you lil’ pup, sorry I wasn’t there to say goodbye.