moldovan funeral

MOLDOVA FUNERAL

As I sat in my room on this cold November day, studying Russian,  listening to the neighbors dog "yap.yap.yap" for  ooohhh... going on 6 hours, I heard a funeral procession passing by. It is quite a site to see, and hear. The rhythmic sounds of the trumpets, drums, and the chanting of the woman, are so full of grief it is hard to stop and watch one pass without tears.

When I came across my first funeral procession I was carrying a very heavy jug of water. As I came out of the store I ended up behind a procession. I wasn’t really sure how to handle this, what exactly is the etiquette for a Modovan funeral? I thought it was best not to pass them. It was a looooongg walk home with that heavy jug of water.  It is slow, very slow because they periodically stop to sing. At first I couldn’t figure out why it is they stopped in certain places, seemed random to me.  After many stops (carrying my heavy jug of water) I picked up the “pattern”. It happened each time we came to a crossroad or corner onto a new street. What the significance of this is, I don’t know. PC did not provide training on all Moldovan culture, certainly not this.

The second time I came across one there were sidewalks and I saw people pass so I did also, however, I needed to cross the street. Is it bad to cross in front of them? And if so, how far away do they need to be? Not sure… so I stood at the crosswalk and I waited, and waited, and waited.  What I found very moving is along the way each man, working in the yard or drinking with his buddies (seems every 50 feet there is a small shop with an outside table surrounded by men, drinking. SIDE NOTE: Moldova is the HIGHEST consumer of alcohol per person in the world. In fact 3 x more than the average person, I know this because I have done presentations for the 9^th grade – they don’t believe me, I tell them GOOGLE it) stop what they were doing, take of their hats, bow there head and stand quietly until it passed. Just like here, cars line up behind the procession waiting for an opportunity to get on their way.

The coffin, which seems to be is a simple wood box, is carried on a flatbed truck, loved ones sitting around it. Who needs limos right? The family and close loved ones walk in front, the others behind. The people with the musical instruments walk in the back with bows on their instruments.  Note, I don't have many photos, can't really stand and take photos without being obvious.

They carry these odd memorial “wreaths” that are sold everywhere. They are made of what we would call a fake xmas pine rope, usually in a horseshoe shape. They are covered with fake flowers –  I hate to say it but each time I look at them I think “tacky…. soooooo tacky”. But they must think they are beautiful, it’s their tradition – so be it. These fake flowers also are what are left at gravesites, don’t think I’ve every seen a real flower.

 

 

Moldovan cemeteries are fascinating, from the first day I saw them I was intrigued and began taking walks in them. The problem for me is I get LOST weaving in and out of small paths and hundreds, or  even thousands, of crosses and headstones.  I obviously get out of it, but it takes a while, several times I could feel “small panic attacks” sneaking up on me.(breath Sandra breath... it's only a cemetery full of dead people and there is no way out...). I always end up coming out in a different place than I was aiming for. But by then I'm just happy to be out, however, now I have to figure out where I am!

 

This is my town cemetery, it is rather long walk up up and up, behind the church. Oh, by the way, I no longer cut through the church property because I found out the sign on the front says that woman must have their head covered. Oops.  Rude American, I have done it many times.

 

At the entrance

Sometimes I come across people at the sites, it’s usually easy to be discreet and respectful and silently go around them, though a few times I have found the path brought me right to a spot where people are attending to a grave. I feel TERRIBLE when this happens, I never know what to do, look at them? Say  hello? Smile?  At least I put my phone with the camera  away! Oh such a TOURIST. One time I was way up on the top admiring the view. I was thinking about the fact there are no roads and that people have to carry the coffin up this huge hill and get through all the other graves without tripping.  Very impressive.  I then watched a little-old Babushka lady walking through them and I realized HEY she is coming right were I am!! I quickly moved out of the way thinking “are you kidding me? Thousands of these things and she is coming to one right next to where I am sitting!” small world … even in a cemetery. Unlike the “relatively young” American, she was not sweating, breathing heavy or carrying a large bottle of water, that I had emptied a long time ago. When I get home I'm ready for a nap!

Our cemetery here in  Taraclia is split into two parts, which I didn’t know until I was lost and came across a bridge. I had to make a decision, cross the bridge? Is it safe? Or turn around and go all the way back. …. Well, it was too hot and I was too tired to go all the way back, so across it I went. With much trepidation in each step, I tip-toed (does doing this make your body weigh less?) testing the strength of each board.  I hung on to the side railings because somehow in my mind it made sense that if it fell I could gently lower myself to the bottom of the ditch that was far below.  Though I know the reality is I could probably hold my body wait, hanging by my arms, all of 30 second.  I made it, obviously, but I won’t push my luck again.

By weaving in and out of paths and plots through thousands of gravesites (I don’t know how they bury people that there is such a small space between them). I made it to the top. It was worth the climb on the very hot day. I found myself at the highest point in Taraclia with a fantastic view

 

Mostly what you see are crosses, blue and white, crosses and crosses and crosses.....

 



 

Unlike home, gravesites are laid in random order and unlike the stones at home the designs are as varied as there are many. I find it interesting that the funeral procession is so “rural” only to find these elaborate stones, even the small crosses have portraits of people. Many go way back, I have seen very few of these portraits on stones at home. I even remember the first one I ever saw back in the 80s. We are so advanced in everything in the US, yet clearly these stones require much more advanced technology than the square stones we find at home. You could wander for hours and never see the same stone twice.

 

 

 

Speaking of small worlds. I had a photo taken next to a larger than life-size stone with a handsome young man on it. My host mother was looking at photos on my phone (I learned to be very careful what I have on it, she does this often) wouldn't you know it, it was her nephew. ooops

 

Throughout the cemeteries are small table and benches so that people can sit at the site of their loved one. There are several memorial days for those that have died. One of them is the week after Easter, it’s called “Easter for the dead”

A small candle is placed at the site, as well as many more plastic flowers.  Many of the stones have a small place to tuck the candle into.

 

So not a real “cheery” topic but it is another fascinating part of the new culture I have found myself in. It is because of these experiences I am reminded how much better it is to be IN a culture rather than just passing through it on a vacation.  These are the kind of  imagines that will live forever in my mind, as well as the sounds of the processions. Today when I heard it, though it was freezing out I sat on the step to watch, holding the little kitty, and cried for the stranger that has passed away and the sad image of their family and friends. Off to the cemetery, hopefully not too far up.