Raising The Dead. Attending A Mass Cremation In Bali.
It is an hour before dawn as I make my way up the gently sloping hill to the cemetery outside the village of Blangsinga, on the island of Bali. There is no wind; a scimitar of a new moon that hangs overhead provides scant light. I fall into step with perhaps fifty or so men carrying a variety of implements for digging. Hoes, shovels, picks and long metal spikes carried nonchalantly over their shoulders, in a way we resemble a rag - tag medieval army, off to fight a battle.
Once we arrive,the men divide into small groups and make for their assigned family grave. In the darkness I can hear others already at their task, waist deep in newly dug graves. As the new day begins to dawn and the light casts its morning glow I see, standing in rows, huge platforms carrying over- sized animal statues looming over me in rows under the trees.
Elephants, bulls, both black and white, dragons and huge fish rear like giant sentinels keeping watch over the morning’s proceedings. Today is to be a special day for the village as the hundreds, if not thousands of family, and friends, many of whom have travelled great distances, have come to farewell the dead. Today, one hundred and eleven bodies will be exhumed, the bones washed, wrapped carefully in white muslin before being placed into their allotted sarcophagus.
A Balinese cremation is, to the western eye, a dramatic event that can leave the onlooker puzzled by its complexity as the cremation ceremony has absolutely nothing to do with a dead body.
The Balinese believe the body is nothing more than an impure, temporary vessel, having no significance at all, except as the container of the soul and its anchor to the earth. At the time of death all thoughts are concentrated upon the spirit and its passage to heaven. Instead of grieving, the Balinese prefer to throw a great celebration to hasten the departed souls to oneness with God.
The soul of someone who dies cannot immediately leave the body.
At first the Atman (the immortal soul) hovers near the body as a ghost that can bother the deceased’s family. Only after the body’s five elements (air, earth, fire, water, and space) have been returned to the macrocosm by burning can the soul completely detach itself from the body.
I have now been here for about three hours and there is shouting and laughter as a procession of women arrive carrying offerings in silver bowls on their heads. A large orchestra of men and boys dressed in vivid, purple jackets adds to the growing din.
Mass cremations are never simple but they are loud!!
There is a pervasive belief that no expense should be spared for the final send off of the soul and, any skimping constitutes disrespect to the departed. A cheap cremation is considered a rather bad way to start ones afterlife.
These ceremonies can, and do cost millions of Rupiah which can severely tax the families resources as hundreds of people are involved in the lead up to the grand day which can take weeks and even months of preparation. Not only are the spirits impressed by a grand cremation, but the family gains prestige and status in the village if they provide a costly ceremony.
Today’s particular event is a ‘ communal’ cremation where funds are in effect pooled so that the cost is spread among all of the participants thus lessening the burden on the poorest of the community. With all the thousands of details in the lead up to the event seemingly in place the event unfolds. However, there seems to be no checklist as, in essence no one is in charge, but it all works out in typical cooperative Balinese fashion.
By now the midday heat has begun to set in.
The diggers, who regularly swap places, are deep into the graves and finally the buried bodies, wrapped in white shrouds are spotted in the earth. The attending family members now jostle for position around the grave and a white ribbon, attached to a three -pointed stick from the dab -dab tree is ceremoniously lowered into the open pit.
With a mighty, “one two, three” shout, the resting corpse is rather unceremoniously hoisted into the air to fall onto the side of the grave. The shout, I am told is to wake the sleeping dead!
Once there it is gently unwrapped, exposing the bones which are washed in holy water and carefully arranged before being once again wrapped in pure white muslin. The body is then placed its allotted sarcophagus. Once all of the bodies had been exhumed it was time for a spot of lunch and a bit of a rest. Cheerful vendors have by now set up stalls selling all manner of food and drink while balloon sellers, holding aloft their colorful wares wander amongst the crowds followed by bands of excited children.
Lunch over, the orchestra once again bursts into life and, after a splendid meal are in fine form!
Each family then begins to deposit their offerings into their family’s sarcophagi attended by a priest who sprinkles holy water from clay pots that are ceremoniously broken when the ritual is complete. This takes a while and a torpid lull falls over the crowd that by now measures at least three thousand. They sit around in the shade catching up on local gossip and chatting with relatives who have travelled from all over Indonesia to attend this grandest of ceremonies.
Then without warning young men clad in white robes race through the crowd carrying lighted torches setting fire to the base of each sarcophagus. Within minutes the tranquil scene is no longer tranquil as the entire cemetery is suddenly ablaze. This is high drama at its best.
The huge sarcophagi begin to smoke and then, the as fire takes hold, flames dance around the elaborate structures consuming them in yellow busts of fire that crackle and explode in showers of sparks. I am in a frenzy, desperately trying to take as many pictures as possible while at the same time avoiding the fierce heat erupting all around me. I begin to understand what it must be like for a photographer is a war zone! Burning elephants, bulls and dragons are rapidly consumed in the blaze and slowly begin topple from their lofty platforms.
All too soon it is over and, as the heat subsides, I wander through the charred remains. Black and singed dragon- heads breathe actual fire while elephant trunks are now reduced to smoldering appendages.
This certainly gives new meaning to the term, ‘ ashes to ashes!” Tonight the ashes will be collected and taken to the temple and guarded overnight before a grand procession tomorrow makes its way to the sea.
That story however I will leave for another time.
Photographs copyright P.V. Walters
www.paulvwalters.net
I am greatly indebted to Fred B. Eisman JR whose essays Bali; Sekala & Niskala was helpful in giving me an insight to the complexity of Balinese cremation.
Paul v Walters is the author of five best-selling novels and when not consumed in sloth and procrastination scribbles for several international travel and vox pop journals.
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