A Day of Cremations and Reflection

After early rising to roosters crowing, dogs warming up their voices barking, doves cooing, unique chirping and tweeting of tropical birds, doing yoga and meditation, the sun came up glowing oranges and reds lighting up the few morning clouds.  Ah........this Sunday day awaits, what to do?

Yesterday, we found out that the brother of the landlord, Ketut, had passed away and that there was going to be a funeral procession starting right at the corner and proceeding to the area near the beach where cremations take place. David felt we should go to pay our respect and would be interesting for me to see - he’s seen a number of them as it’s quite a frequent occurrence.  Turns out life has its counterpart, Death, however, we are in agreement it only happens to others and don’t believe in it personally........

We started having our breakfast of yogurt and fresh fruit when we heard the distinctive gamelan
music start up nearby and hurriedly rushed out the courtyard a few feet to street corner where the procession was forming up.  Many women dressed in brightly colored matching sarongs and sashes carrying flowers, offerings and incense lined up on the narrow road with a large gamelan cart, a dozen men playing other instruments and men dressed in green shirts with purple, red and checkered sarongs and the Balinese headgear they wear here for ceremonies, in front and behind the women.  At the end of the procession was a casket mounted on a wheeled cart pushed along by men on both sides with bamboo poles passed through the cart between them.  We stood watching as music played and everyone patiently waited some command to proceed, which finally came and they moved on down the road, eventually disappearing around the corner, the music trailing behind and fading.  Since it would be some time before they travelled a bit of distance through town, we went in and finished our breakfast. We prepared to join up later along with our neighbor Evonne-during the course of the day I got to know a bit about her story - born in Manila, Philippines, married an American who was a roadie for The Almond Brothers, lived in Guam for next 32 years, two kids and two grandkids, retired, moving to Bali five years ago because cost of living much better here on fixed income.

The three of us then got a Blue Taxi, very inexpensive and the better ones to get with look a-likes not as good, and headed in direction of ceremonial grounds but soon found ourselves behind another merging procession.  We followed haltingly in the cab, driver and other vehicles unruffled by this fairly common event but eventually bailed and walked the remaining distance down a lane lined with hundreds of scooters - must be the place.  As we walked, the gamelan music volume increased, rounded a corner and arrived into a large open area filled with hundreds of people, other arriving processions arriving close behind from other directions.  The place was teeming with people grouped together by their common family colors apparently and it took some time wandering among them to get the lay of the land and figure out what was happening.  Over the heads of the crowd, me being taller then most so had a periscope advantage, I could see large colorful ornamental portable temple like structures that seemed to be used by better off families and caskets started being carried through the separating crowd to an area where bamboo pyres were arranged in a line separated about 20 feet apart.  The previous chaos began to become more ordered and start to make sense to me, almost like clouds of smoke that change into an animal shapes in the sky.  I moved about with my cell cell phone camera clicking and videoing the unfolding process, initially thinking whether it was disrespectful but realizing the locals were doing the same and accepting me as just another member of the human clan joining in this special send off of a loved one.  At that moment I felt calmly present, part of the process, not standing out and flowed between the three pyres being set up to accept the bodies and intently observing the process.  In America this whole process of cremation is hidden away but here everyone participates - more open, natural. Now that I have experienced this way, I think somehow it is healthier but have to have more time to contemplate the broader feelings I have had this day to explain.

Then, the caskets were brought in to their respective pyres of large bamboo logs stacked in a rectangle where the body, wrapped in a palm blanket, was transferred from the casket onto a built in recessed bed.  The body was then unwrapped by multiple hands, exposed in their burial clothes, hands arranged in repose upon their breast and the ritual blessings began.  Everyone was crowded around as the priest and I’m guessing family elders, sprinkled holy water on the face and upper body, chanted, put offerings about and on the body which was then recovered with a long elaborate cloth and intricately woven decorative palm weaving imbedded with flowers, leaving the face and hands exposed.  There was constant motion, not quiet solemnity but a sense of life almost reanimating the dead - felt  more like the living were accompanying their loved ones part way on a continuing journey and they were not alone, just taking another trip - touching.  Multiple layers of fine cloth was then piled on top off the body, then different pieces of organic matter, such as leaves, flowers, matting.  At one end of the pyre, a probe connected to two large propane tanks was inserted under the pyre and then ignited, lighting the material under the body and then surrounding area.  As the flames increased in intensity, the attendants moved the burning material around the body with poles with hooks on the end, keeping as much of it on top of the body as they could.  Eventually, a hand, arm, face and other body parts would be exposed, still intact, flames roaring around them.  Eerily, a hand would move straight up out of the flames, suspended for a while before slowly lowering back down, as if to wave goodbye..........

The fires grew in intensity at which point a length of corrugated sheet metal was placed on top of the bamboo railings and now pretty much exposed body, thus concentrating the heat back down to complete the process of cremation as more fuel was added from underneath.

The whole time, the family and village members watched attentively but also seemed to be in constant aware conscious movement, giving the impression of just another of the many family gatherings they had had over the lifetime of their loved one, milling about in visitation.  With that, we took our leave and went to a nice Sunday buffet, continuing on our life journey perhaps a little more aware of its temporal nature.

Quite the day and after all this we found out we were following the wrong body, in fact, Ketuts brother was still lying in state in the family home as is the custom before before being washed and prepared for cremation - not exactly sure how long this process takes but sounds like days perhaps.

Returning home and after a couple hour break we headed to beach with Katrinka and doggy Bondi in tow.  I did a long swim up and down the low tide bay with kites and a paraglider flying above, fishermen standing in the shallows, surfers in the distance beyond the reef riding the large waves, families strolling along the shoreline and gentle breezes flapping flags and banners about.  Refreshed and energized I went to the Genius Cafe and ordered a fresh young coconut water with lime and commenced writing of today’s events.  Before I knew it the sun set, got dark, live music group was playing and evening crowd filtered in around me, had some tomato soup and wandered home in
dark.



Here’s a few pictures and videos of the beginning of procession with the “wrong body” which I’m posting late after a long day so will do another post tomorrow with maybe a few more thoughts, pictures and videos.  Also, somewhere in the course of events I believe I overheard that where we were today was just one of a number of cremation grounds.