Yesterday we attended the funeral of our colleague's brother, the PNTL that
died in the tragic accident on Saturday while bringing back ballot boxes from
Lolotoe sub-district.
When I envisioned what I would be doing in Timor, the last thing I expected, the last thing I wanted, was to attend a funeral. Funerals are never easy; I have attended my fair share of them but it never gets easier, it probably shouldn't...
We made our way from Maliana to Bobonaro villa, already a treacherous road, made more treacherous by the events that it had witnessed. As we were leaving, we encountered the FPU team bringing back the car that had been involved in the accident. Never an easy sight, it was even more gruesome knowing that we were on our way to attend the funeral of the man that had been in that same car probably laughing and happy that his mission had been a success just 48 hours before.
The day was dreary as if it knew that it had to be. It was cold, the coldest I've ever experienced since being in Timor and the fog that came down the mountain became thicker and thicker. There were hundreds of people gathered at the family's house, including many colleagues of the PNTL officer. Like in all funerals, it is tradition to bring flowers; the problem is that there are no fresh flowers to be found in Maliana. We have to contend with fake plastic flowers going for 1.25$ a piece. How many is enough? What becomes of them after? Will the family find comfort in plastic flowers? These thoughts were going through my head as we were trying to pick out which to bring with us to present to the family.
We entered the dark house bearing our flowers where the wife, heavily pregnant, was sobbing hysterically over her husband, lying in his coffin in his police uniform. It was my first time seeing an open casket.
Here they have a tradition to raise the coffin up as it is about the leave its house in order to allow the family of the deceased to pass under the coffin. We were told that it was their way of saying goodbye since the deceased would never be returning home again. It was very moving as the family members were beside themselves with grief, tugging at the lock on the coffin and refusing to go under the coffin, refusing to say goodbye.
The procession to the church followed, with hundreds of mourners in tow. The church became so packed that we decided to stay outside on the steps. It was a beautiful ceremony, filled with music sung by the people in attendance. Afterwards, an UNPOL car took the coffin to its burial ground where another ceremony took place. Here cemeteries are usually on hill sides, allowing the deceased to have their final view of the mountains. The people were gathered all over the cemetery, on top of other graves and otherwise, something that you would never see in Europe, for example. Speeches were made and the grave was blessed by the priest before cement was dropped on the grave to encircle the coffin, another aspect that I'm not familiar with as we usually use earth to cover the coffin.
The burial was then followed by lunch. The family had made enough food to feed the hundreds that had come to pay their respects, which begs the question of whether they can afford it. We were told that funerals, as tradition, were the most costly of events in a person's life here in Timor. The family was not of means and the PNTL officer was probably the bread winner of his entire family. Families here are not just composed of the nuclear family and you are expected to provide for the whole family, extended and otherwise. The State payed for the coffin and will provide the wife with a modest pension but with 5 kids and another on the way, it is likely that her life just took a turn for the worse. But they wouldn't allow us to kindly refuse their food so we stayed and ate with them and the hundreds others. And then we were told that the ceremony had finished and that it was time to leave.
On the road again back down to Maliana visibility was poor, the fog had descended drastically and we were left with only 10m of visibility, something we had not yet experienced here and so we tread carefully. It was sad to have ended the elections this way, when all three rounds had been so successful, when we were so happy for Timor and what this meant for its future. It was a sad day in Bobonaro.
When I envisioned what I would be doing in Timor, the last thing I expected, the last thing I wanted, was to attend a funeral. Funerals are never easy; I have attended my fair share of them but it never gets easier, it probably shouldn't...
We made our way from Maliana to Bobonaro villa, already a treacherous road, made more treacherous by the events that it had witnessed. As we were leaving, we encountered the FPU team bringing back the car that had been involved in the accident. Never an easy sight, it was even more gruesome knowing that we were on our way to attend the funeral of the man that had been in that same car probably laughing and happy that his mission had been a success just 48 hours before.
The day was dreary as if it knew that it had to be. It was cold, the coldest I've ever experienced since being in Timor and the fog that came down the mountain became thicker and thicker. There were hundreds of people gathered at the family's house, including many colleagues of the PNTL officer. Like in all funerals, it is tradition to bring flowers; the problem is that there are no fresh flowers to be found in Maliana. We have to contend with fake plastic flowers going for 1.25$ a piece. How many is enough? What becomes of them after? Will the family find comfort in plastic flowers? These thoughts were going through my head as we were trying to pick out which to bring with us to present to the family.
We entered the dark house bearing our flowers where the wife, heavily pregnant, was sobbing hysterically over her husband, lying in his coffin in his police uniform. It was my first time seeing an open casket.
Here they have a tradition to raise the coffin up as it is about the leave its house in order to allow the family of the deceased to pass under the coffin. We were told that it was their way of saying goodbye since the deceased would never be returning home again. It was very moving as the family members were beside themselves with grief, tugging at the lock on the coffin and refusing to go under the coffin, refusing to say goodbye.
The procession to the church followed, with hundreds of mourners in tow. The church became so packed that we decided to stay outside on the steps. It was a beautiful ceremony, filled with music sung by the people in attendance. Afterwards, an UNPOL car took the coffin to its burial ground where another ceremony took place. Here cemeteries are usually on hill sides, allowing the deceased to have their final view of the mountains. The people were gathered all over the cemetery, on top of other graves and otherwise, something that you would never see in Europe, for example. Speeches were made and the grave was blessed by the priest before cement was dropped on the grave to encircle the coffin, another aspect that I'm not familiar with as we usually use earth to cover the coffin.
The burial was then followed by lunch. The family had made enough food to feed the hundreds that had come to pay their respects, which begs the question of whether they can afford it. We were told that funerals, as tradition, were the most costly of events in a person's life here in Timor. The family was not of means and the PNTL officer was probably the bread winner of his entire family. Families here are not just composed of the nuclear family and you are expected to provide for the whole family, extended and otherwise. The State payed for the coffin and will provide the wife with a modest pension but with 5 kids and another on the way, it is likely that her life just took a turn for the worse. But they wouldn't allow us to kindly refuse their food so we stayed and ate with them and the hundreds others. And then we were told that the ceremony had finished and that it was time to leave.
On the road again back down to Maliana visibility was poor, the fog had descended drastically and we were left with only 10m of visibility, something we had not yet experienced here and so we tread carefully. It was sad to have ended the elections this way, when all three rounds had been so successful, when we were so happy for Timor and what this meant for its future. It was a sad day in Bobonaro.
Sorry to hear about the accident Fifi, please be careful!
ReplyDelete