A cremation in Nong Noi
A death in Nong Noi, the hamlet closest to our country. A 19-year-old boy died in a motorcycle accident.
The fact that Thailand has the sad honor of being in the top 3 of countries with the most road casualties is almost entirely due to the popularity of motorcycles (you won't find a "moped" of less than 50cc here) and the lack of decent driving -course. 80 kilometers per hour, no helmet on, no light, tearing left and right around the other traffic, it's all possible here. And very often it suddenly turns out not to be possible. Or a motorist, whose driver training mainly consists of a color test, a reaction test and watching a video, finds that cars always have priority over motorcycles or that a motorcycle as an oncoming vehicle is absolutely no reason to wait before overtaking. And then of course there are the many stray dogs and the unexpected deep holes in the road that launch the motorcyclist. Without the often very young motorcycle victims, Thailand would be a nice mid-engine in the accident statistics.
The boy was related to Tui, our neighbor who also carries out the necessary chores, such as excavating and pouring the foundation and floor, and building the basic structure. Because Nong Noi, which has maybe about 20 houses, is the community we will soon be part of and everyone there already knows us or has at least heard about us, we think we should make an appearance.
Wednesday evening was the first ceremony, in the boy's parental home. A large tent had been built with room for the whole village, about 100 men I estimate. Upon entering, Thai disco blares loudly from the speakers. We are very warmly welcomed by the parents, to whom we express our sympathy with hands and feet and our rehearsed sentence. Then we are directed to the front row to take a seat.
In front of us on the floor is another box where the next of kin will sit, and behind it a small platform. After half an hour the disco stops and four monks enter and take a seat on the platform. A man we will call the funeral director speaks and chants for us impossible to follow texts. Sometimes one of the monks takes over. In the meantime, things are quite animated in the tent. People walk around, talk to each other, check Facebook, take photos and send apps. Some of those present follow the ceremony a little more closely, and we soon see that at some moments the intention is to bring your hands together. In the meantime, Tui has come to sit behind us and has taken on the role of personal supervisor. When I'm a little too late, “Frenk: hands” sounds from behind and when Mieke holds her hands together a bit too long, it's: “hands okay now, Mik”.
At the moments that are really important, everyone stops talking, texting, walking around and other activities and devoutly brings their hands together.
When the ceremony is over, the parents come to thank us again for coming. It has never happened before in Nong Noi that farang were present at a village event. We in turn thank the parents for allowing us to be part of the ceremony and again express our condolences. The boy turns out to have been their only child. Death is treated differently in Buddhism than in the West, but that does not alter the fact that the loss of your only child is also a traumatic event here. Your life is turned upside down from one minute to the next, and it shows on the poor parents.
Saturday afternoon was the cremation. Just about every village in Thailand has a crematorium. In shape it is often reminiscent of a small temple, but with a chimney attached. In addition, there is a large covered floor, sometimes with fixed benches. In Nong Noi the crematorium is still completely open; it is more like a stage in a large open space, with a covered area for the visitors next to it. The front rows, with plastic seats, are now reserved for the dignitaries. Behind it are concrete benches for the ordinary people, to which we fortunately appear to belong.
Much of today's ceremony revolves around offerings made to the monks in the form of gifts. Each time someone is called forward to be handed something that must then be deposited with a monk. Pong has meanwhile prepared us for our turn and fortunately also gives us a signal when the time comes. We have already been able to see what is expected of us. I walk to the table where the offerings are handed over, receive an envelope with a wai and bow and then have a master of ceremonies point me to the correct monk. With my height and unathletic figure it is impossible to make myself smaller than the seated monk, but with a bow and wai I think I make my good intentions clear and I put my envelope on the large pile of offerings already there.
Then the notables may collect an extra large gift and place it on a special table, which they then stand behind. The monks now move from their places to take the notable gifts from that table.
When the whole ritual is over, it's time for the burning. First we all walk past the altar, as I call it, with the body of the boy, to pay homage. We are given a key ring with a flashlight as a reminder. Then firecrackers pop, screaming kitchen maids scream, flares are launched. The boy's friends start their engines and run them at full throttle. Under infernal noise, and with lots of colored smoke and rotating lights, the altar is suddenly completely on fire. A huge wishing balloon is released, which also ignites all kinds of fireworks on the way up. When we turn around again, all the chairs have already disappeared and the tent has already been largely demolished. Half of the visitors have already disappeared and the other half are busy cleaning up.
The subdued atmosphere that we know in the Netherlands, and which has brought us the term "grave mood", is not visible or palpable here. When the mother comes to wave and shake hands afterwards, however, the tears are visible and Mieke doesn't keep it dry under the warm hug either. Exciting to have been part of this.
Traffic problem is not due to the driving training and exam, not even to the roads, which in Thailand are quite good compared to other SE Asian countries.
However, following the traffic rules, which everyone knows, they take exams, and the rules are normal.
It's enforcing the rules. I also think that outside the cities not everyone has a driver's license to put on a helmet ????
One may think if something happens this will be my Karma. .
Dear Henk, maybe the training and taking the exam is not the same everywhere, only the experience I have made here is that both the training and the exam cannot be compared to the quality we know from Europe.
During the written exam, if the number of points was not obtained, money could still be paid, and during the practical part, which meant nothing more than a lap around a square, the examiner simply stayed in his room, so that he could of the entire practical part, has seen very little or nothing.
Also as you write, that outside the big cities not everyone has a driver's license, this gives you even more to think about whether everyone really knows the traffic rules.
The problem in Thailand is simply that sometimes almost children drive a motorcycle without real knowledge of the rules, and the legislator as well as the parents rarely find it necessary to check this properly.
Compared to Thailand, funeral ceremonies in Belgium and the Netherlands are just a cold, soulless affair
I said goodbye to my wife here. Children played in front of the coffin and made drawings that they dedicated to her. All very moving, because you really get time to say goodbye during the 3-day rites. Because the first prayers and rites start in the morning. The deceased is also symbolically invited to tafeo. Because in the closed space behind the freezer there is a table with a chair. I can assure you that when you invite us for dinner with a few light taps on the coffin, silent tears will run down your cheeks. Intimate friends and family members also say goodbye in this shielded space.
The cremation was in Central Thailand, and as usual there. No music, gambling or alcohol
Detailed, empathetic and sympathetic written account of an event, of which at the end it seems that not much is going on, most of them are already on their way home.
But for the immediate family, parents, brothers, sisters, friends and acquaintances it is certainly at least as drastic an event as in any other country where someone has to say goodbye to a loved one.
Expressing sympathy in person at such an event is also very much appreciated in my experience.
Nico B
beautifully and serenely described the ceremony of a cremation and its preparation in Thailand. Thanks for sharing!
There is ONE fact that is ignored and that is that after the death there is also a 100 day ceremony.
In the time between the death, all property and things that the deceased has attached value to are collected and either given away or burned.
Often the house or renovated is added, cleaned up, painted etc so that the deceased spirit finds no identifying marks and therefore does not come back.
This is also a whole ceremony that even lasted three days at my father-in-law's. With a big party on the penultimate evening with a band with singers, dancers, a kind of one-man show and, above all, a lot of loud music from a 4000 watt installation.
A lot of food and especially a LOT of booze. Until the wee hours.
PS the days from death to cremation had already taken 10 days from 06.00 to 02.00 so around the clock. With security at the coffin because PS if the deceased wanted to get up, there had to be someone waiting for him.
A good, compassionate story. What always struck me at the many cremations I attended (many young people with AIDS at the beginning of this century) is the solidarity and cooperation of the villagers. And also the way in which the life of the deceased is honored with photos, texts, poems and speeches, where the unpleasant matters are not left undiscussed. The sadness only comes to the fore in a personal encounter or is processed in solitude.
Beautifully and aptly written, Francois. The atmosphere is indeed completely different from a cremation or burial in NL, but the sadness is no less - although it is not openly shown.
For the last five years before I stopped working, I spent 6 to 10 weeks each year in my parents-in-law's village in Isaan. Have also known five acquaintances and even a family member to die. I then went to express my condolences to the family of the deceased, but never went to a cremation. I myself don't believe in Buddha (in any god, by the way) and I thought (and think) that I didn't belong there. According to my wife, the rest of the village understood my point of view and accepted it.
Unfortunately, I have also experienced a cremation up close a few times.
What strikes me is that it is different everywhere (local use) and one person makes it a grand farewell party and another simple and brief. This is also not the same everywhere.
When my father-in-law was cremated 14 years ago, not a drop of alcohol was served, at the request of my mother-in-law (the family likes a glass) because she did not think that was appropriate. In the sala next door there was a party every night with cards and drinks. With us only food and fresh.
The term is also different everywhere. I was told the richer/more important you are the longer the mourning.
My mother-in-law thought 7 days was a good time, so we respected that.
In the sala next to it was a "rich" person, who celebrated for 100 days.
Have now experienced a few cremations in Buddhist temples in Bangkok, mostly near me. With some of the deceased, whom we (my wife and I) knew personally, we went to the temple every day and also to the cremation of course. Have never seen a drop of alcohol at all those funerals and no parties and parties afterwards. A modest service with monks every day and about the same on the 7th day, followed only by the actual cremation. Food was provided on all days, with water.
Khun François La Poutré, Once again a beautifully described article. In your excellent objective description you combine the harsh reality with intense tranquil sadness. It moves me. Keep writing. Greetings from a grateful reader