Ashes

I am not a big fan of tours. Wesa and I were stuck in Vientiane for a handful of days, but didn't really want to hand over money so someone could entertain us with rafting or pretty colors. Tours can be such a mixed bag, something wonderful, followed by another two hours of waiting and 200 other tourists lined up to do the same thing. Instead, Wesa and I often wander the towns we visit, either on foot or bicycle, to try and soak up the flavor of the culture and the town. Oftentimes, nothing spectacular comes of it. And then, sometimes you come across something unique, something that you'd never see at home.

Wesa and I were walking the streets of Vientiane with this idea. Unfortunately, it was also cloudy, humid and hot, to the point that even walking made us grumpy and sweaty. We walked into something that looked like a park, but instead found a large and well-kept wat. There were people loitering everywhere, just hanging around, as if waiting for something. Clueless tourists, we stagger in, fighting amongst ourselves, looking for a shady place to cool off our fried noggins and tempers. In one of the squares out front of one of the temples, we noticed a squared off area, edged with elegant dragon statuettes and shades, and black and orange fabric. In the center was something resembling an altar, draped in white veil-like material, like we'd see someone get married in front of at home. We settled in under a tree, fighting the ants, hoping perhaps to see a joyous celebration in the square.

We waited, and then it began. We saw a long column of orange robed, shaved-headed monks, walking slowly, each holding onto a long continuous piece of white fabric. They looked hot in their robes, several of them had placed small cloths over their heads. We started to get excited--a ceremony of some kind, what a cool experience! Then came a column of women in white behind the monks, Nuns, we decided, each clutching the fabric rope. Then came a small group of people wearing black, clutching the long white fabric rope--and we knew this was not the happy occasion we looked for. The long fabric rope was tied to the front of a truck bearing a large, ornate white paper/cardboard house, covered in gold and silver. Perhaps in the old days, the nuns and family pulled a cart or the animals that dragged the paper house to the ceremony. All the people loitering across the large park began to assemble, and the air of expectation began to build. As we sat there, practically in the front row of townspeople dressed in their good clothes, women began to circulate through the crowd, passing out cold water and party favors. Mine was a keychain, a golden pillow attached to a small ring. First we declined the water and the favors, but took them when they were offered again--we were afraid to offend those who were there to witness whatever we were about to see. As the monks filed in, then the nuns, family, who we could see crying and looking very upset, we realized that we had stumbled upon a funeral of some kind. We wondered about the body--this was obviously someone of either wealth and/or importance. Was it cremated? Would they bring it? Would we have to see it? I thought, should we leave? I worried then that our quick unceremonious departure would also cause the family to lose face, so we sat, and waited.

I found out in a minute about the deceased woman. The large paper house, several feet tall, was actually a coffin. The funeral workers quickly took apart the multiple layers of the house, quite light, to move the bottom, the base, the heavier, more important piece onto the altar. The coffin was open and plastic pulled back, and people started taking pictures and video as if this was a party, frantically snapping away, climbing over each other with cameras, videoing the plastic as it was peeled back to reveal the deceased woman. Then she was shut back inside, and the paper house was once again built over her.

We did not understand the various actions of the people during the ceremony. Words were spoken. The fabric rope what had pulled the woman to the center square was tied to the altar and then to the wat iteself. The monks sang and prayed off to the side of the square. Various useful implements of life were placed alongside--clothes, chairs, bedding, water. The people (over a hundred) were invited in a crowd to place incense and a flower on the altar, and then each person came away and washed his or her hands. We sat and watched, as the people streamed by us to perform this part of the ceremony. We did not know this woman. We did not know what it meant. And so we sat.

The nuns and monks prayed over the altar (careful not to touch each other). Then all the flowers and incense where thrown carelessly onto what we realized would soon be a funeral pyre. The monks came with flames lit, the funeral directors carelessly climbed over the paper house, to threw some kind of flame encouragement onto the altar, and in seconds, the paper house erupted. The blast of heat blew everyone back, and all those in attendance practically bolted from the scene. Someone threw money and candy at the backs of the departing crowd, and the street urchin children, who had harried the altar and disrupted the funeral several times by attempting to steal some of the dead woman's things, screamed and chased the bouncing candies and folded bills. We did not run with the crowd, but instead slowly backed away from the fire. The monks kept careful watch on the pyre, and the people around. We serreptiously took photos, wandering around the fringes of the square. The heat was absolutely incredible, in a few seconds, the paper house was unrecognizable.

I swallowed hard when the blaze reached the bottom level of the paper house. The body then, would surely be burning.

The heat continued to build, and we were slowly pushed back more. Thunder rumbled across the sky several times, we knew it would rain soon. Ash began to float down, slowly falling like snow, and I resisted the urge to lift my face to the sky and try to catch the flakes in my mouth. I was still sweating...and when the ash touched my skin, it blurred, mixed, and streaked when I tried to rub it away. Morbidly, I wondered if the ashes mixing with my sweat where that of her bone, hair, clothing, body. It was then, that we beat a hasty retreat away from the pyre, to let the ashes rain down in peace.

I hoped that it would rain soon, so I could get the dead woman's ashes off of my arms.

(Note: click photos for larger image)


The entrance of the Monks and Nuns.


Warm Monks


The house containing the body.


Moving the body from the truck to the pavillion.


Setting up the house on the pavillion.


Decorations


Fully set up now.


The possessions of the dead.


Kids trying to steal possessions.


Fuel before the fire.


Keeping watch.


The body burns.