I truly don't mean this to sound tacky, but....the past two mornings I have been rather thankful that my sweet little boy gets up at the crack of dawn (anywhere between 5:30 and 6:00am). I am thankful because if he hadn't woken me up I would have been pulled from my sleep by the not too tremendously pretty sound of the recorded funeral music that families play when someone dies.
On saturday morning we were already awake when the music started blaring...and I do mean BLARING through our house. We knew it meant one of three things....a wedding, a funeral or another 'bon' celebration of some kind. We looked outside and didn't see anyone at all walking around in our neighborhood and we couldn't exactly tell where the music was coming from. About 15 minutes later, I looked out again and finally saw it....the white flag that is flown near the house of the one who has just died. It was flying at the house right across from ours. The particular type of music that was playing is the same song that is played at the home of every Buddhist when they die. We have been told that it is played as soon as possible after the person dies, so that the soul of the one who has just died (which is still roaming around somewhere) will know that they have died.
It took both Chris and I by surprise as we had just been talking with the wife of that family the evening before and she had said nothing of anyone being sick or near death. Soon there was quite a bustle going on as people were coming and going in preparation for the funeral bon that was to happen that day. The music got louder and louder...so much so that even though Chris and I were in the same room with one another we had to shout at eachother to be able to hear what the other was saying. Then the monks came to offer prayers and to chant with the family...at points they were louder than the music!
Throughout the day tents went up, tables and chairs were put up and prepared for the funeral meal. We soon realized that if we were going to go anywhere during the day that we needed to get our car out before they finished putting the tent up. We literally had tables sitting just outside our gate and the funeral tent, once it was completely set up consumed our entire road. The event went through the evening until 10:30pm when the lights in their house went out. (We did have to park our car at a friends house though as we couldn't pull it down our road and into our garage).
As I got up and ate my cereal at the table this morning, I might as well have been eating out with the guests as we were pretty much staring at each other through the plants in front of our house....strange! Finally 36 hours later this first of the three necessary funeral bons ended. The second will come on the 7 day anniversary of the death and then the final one on the 100th day anniversary. This is all part of the Buddhist/Khmer culture here. I also noticed today that the youngest daughter in the home (a beautiful little girl, maybe 4 years old) has already had her head shaved bald. This is a way to honor the one who has died. So sad to see her beautiful long shiny black hear totally gone.
What has struck me about this event is the lack of community involvement in the process. We have said before that due to what happened during Pol Pot's time that people really don't trust one another too much and relationships are often lacking, but this just made it seem even more real. Yes, the funeral caused all of of who live on this little street a bit of inconvenience (4 families had to walk through the funeral in order to go anywhere!) but through all of it I didn't see any of our neighbors go to see the family or be involved.
Another example of this that happened recently is when the house right next door to us had a baby. We knew that she was pregnant and getting really close to delivering, but we had heard nothing from anyone. Then as Chris was out with Aiden the other evening the dad came out and casually mentioned that TWO weeks ago their new baby boy was born! No one else in our neighborhood knew either! So I went to school the next day and asked my teacher what neighbors normally do for one another when a new baby is born. She gave me a strange look and said that we don't do anything, that it was the families responsibility and they shouldn't burden the neighbors for help. She did follow that by saying that since I was a foreigner that I could probably take them some food if I wanted to, and they would probably think it strange, but just chalk it up to the fact that I am a foreigner.
I find it hard to be in a community where major life events are announced by sudden loud blaring music, or not announced at all. Our hope is that when we learn this language and begin working in a community that our presence and therefore Jesus' presence will bring back some care and concern for the ones living next door.
