closure

i have just returned from another cremation ceremony. but this one was different. it was for embryos and babies that lived for a for only a few months. i didn't realize it at the time. i thought i was being invited by my landlord to some distant relative of her husbands that passed away years ago and was finally being cremated. but midway through the ceremony i lost sight of her, and wandered around the small cemetery a bit, trying to see which grave she was sitting next to with her clan, but without success. so i just waited on the side and figured we would meet up again when it was all over. people were chatting and laughing and clearing away weeds, and chanting some. but, as usual, being the only "tourist" and not able to really "blend in with the crowd", when they began to file out of the cemetery for the next part, a young woman motioned to me to "c'mon". i always say "yes" to whatever they are telling me, so, i joined her, even though we didn't know each other. she asked if i was "alone" ( a phrase that makes them feel sad, since they don't think people should ever have to be alone.) and i told her that i am here with my friend, but we lost each other. suddenly she pointed to people filing out of another part of the temple and asked if maybe she was here? and i began to tell her no, but at that moment, my friend walked out and i laughed and joined her, wondering why she wasn't in the cemetery with everyone else...

her english is minimal, so i have come to realize that when she does speak, i should pay attention, because it is important. so when she pointed to the little young coconut she was carrying in a make shift baby carrier of a strip of white cotton material, and said "this baby, bury different cemetery. that for man" (and pointed to where i had just come from.) aha....so all of these women walking in pairs of two in this long line are not just carrying a symbolic baby of a deceased adult that will be reborn in the next incarnation (which is what i had thought until now) but are actually mothers who have lost their babies while they were pregnant or during the first few months of life!

we walked a few minutes and entered the "baby cemetary". i had passed this place everytime i came in and out of the village, and guessed it was a baby cemetery, but it looked so strange and was in transtion all the time that it didn't make sense to me, and i kept forgetting to ask a villager about it. it is less than 100 sq. meters big. slowly things began to make sense. the people that had been holding the big silver trays with a naive drawing of a man or a woman on a piece of bamboo, were the symbolic remains of "adults" (beyond the age of 3 months) that needed to be cremated in order to continue on to the next stage of their existence. they were symbols of people who had passed away and been buried in the cemetery over the past 30 some years, but because of lack of funds, never had a cremation. today was the day that some 60 members of this "clan" (extended family) were having their communal cremation since the price is much cheaper ($10, compared to $200)....

we all stood out on the road as some 20 men took a live frangipani branch from a pile that were situated at the entrance to the tiny cemetery. the huge straw baskets filled with offerings, each with the name of the child on it, had been placed around the small crowded old broken down cemetery. then the branch with the buds and new leaves on them were stuck into the basket too and the leader began to read out each name and direct the women next to which basket to sit down on the ground. i stood next to her, trying to figure out if i am allowed to accompany her inside or i am supposed to wait on the road. i noticed that most of the women had a man sitting next to them, or behind them, and realized that ketut, my landlord, had come alone....or rather, had invited me to come with her....so now i understood....it was her way of being accompanied, and also of letting me have a cultural experience. i felt honored, and humbled.

each woman walked into the tiny graveyard, the priest was on a raised platform, there were several assistants helping out, and i was watching...it was the first time i saw tears in peoples' eyes...a solemnity in the air, downcast looks, and i realized the difference between a life long lived, compared to a new hope that was suddenly lost. there were young couples and even up to middle age, like my landlord who is 45. what followed was a long series of symbolic actions and items being handed out, hung from the branches, incense constantly being lit to accompany each soul, little candies being placed in the little baskets that represented offerings being made to them. what was a bit paradoxical, or possibly on purpose, is that while the priest was busy chanting his prayers, shouts of little kids on recess were heard just as loudly, since the elementary school is right next to this baby cemetery.

i usually just imitate what i see them doing, but now i realized that what was going on was that these parents were praying in place of their baby who could not go through the motions....so i was not to be imitating today. i stopped once i heard a few chuckles and glances in my direction and realized that "the tourist" is mixed up.

i too had lost a child in my fourth month, some 32 years ago. it is as clear as if it happened yesterday. i was sad, but went with the flow of how things are done in a modern busy hospital, and just continued on with my life after the embryo was thrown in the garbage bag next to the reclining chair where they had vaccummed "it" out of me, asking if it's important to me to know whether it was male or female. i declined. and was grateful to become pregnant again a few months later and to continue to have 5 more healthy births.

as the ceremony in the baby cemetery continued i could feel what a comfort it is to be with other women that also lost their babies. i remembered an old hassidic folk tale of how a woman could not accept the fact that her child had died and told the holy man that he must bring him back to life. he told her that first she must go from house to house in the village and bring him oil from a house where there has never been a death. she begins to go from house to house, but on every door she knocks, the people that open it reply that they are sorry, but someone has died in that house at some point. after going through the entire village, unable to find a family that had not lost a loved one, she is able to accept her new reality, as a mourner among others.

i suddenly realized how important this physical act of closure was. husbands, wives, mothers, daughters, sisters, friends, neighbors, cousins, were all accompanying this final act of release from this life cycle before going on to the next. clay earthenware plates were handed out to each woman and she placed the small palm leaf fan-like body symbolizing the baby onto it, along with a little stalk of sugar cane and a tiny kind of scooper from palm leaf, and small folded pieces of white and gold cloth. kerosene was passed around in a used plastic water cup that each woman sprinkled on the contents of the plate, and then some 30 sticks of incense were lite all at once by each mother as she ignited the symbolic remains of her baby which went up in flames all over the cemetery next to each mourner.

ketut, my landlord, was very busy making sure that every bit burnt totally and if a piece fell on the ground it was swiftly returned to the contents of the plate so that these symbolic ashes of her embryo could finish the necessary rite of passage. when all that was left from the big flames, were just ashes, some of the coconut water from the young yellow coconut that each woman had carried in the little silver tray, as if it was her baby, were sprinkled on the ashes, with the piece of sugar cane, she was hitting hard to mash up all of the ashes, which were then scooped up in the little leaf scooper and placed inside the open top of the coconut, along with 5,000 rupiah notes (50 cents) and some holy flowers. the earthenware plate was then thrown on the ground and broke into pieces, and we all exited,

again, in twos, the long procession of the 30 some "mourning" women walked the 10 minute walk through the village to the sea. each was carrying the young coconut with the ashes inside it, in the makeshift white material baby carrier. now i understood why at the beginning of the ceremony they were all relating to that coconut as if it was a baby or something. i had never seen such tenderness towards a ritualistic coconut before. i asked ketut how old her baby was when he died. she said he was a 4 month old embryo and his name was aditya. her older son was then 5 years old. she had had an operation after that, but nothing helped. "i was "broken". no more children. so only have one aditya, now he is 25. enough." i realized she had waited 20 years for this cremation. the village promises that it will make sure that each soul will have a cremation, if the family cannot afford one individually. so once enough people need one, have the money, and the day is auspicious, it takes place. i assume that for the young couples that were there, it was still a fresh experience of sorrow. but for each woman (and possibly man), losing a baby is an unforgettable event in her life.

when we reached the rocky seashore, all of the women sat in a line, with their family member(s) behind them. after the instructions were given how to take the white cloth and wrap up the young coconut holding the ashes in it, with the incense, money, and flowers, we all stood up, they took three big steps back and than all ran barefoot in their sarongs into the sea. with water up to their knees they threw the cloth wrapped coconuts joyously into the sea to begin their symbolic journey "home" to be reborn.

at this point i was a bit confused because suddenly out of nowhere a group of about 10 teenagers appeared and went running into the sea in their regular clothes (all of us were wearing temple clothes) and they had fishing nets on poles and as the waves swallowed up the cloth wrapped coconuts with the cremation ashes inside, they were quickly retrieving them! once the women had thrown them into the sea, they had no attachment to them. when i saw there wasn't the slightest reaction to the grabbing (almost out of the womens' hands) of the coconuts, i realized that these teenagers were out to make a quick buck! free money inside each coconut they grabbed! i was shocked. no one else was. everyone seemed to be relieved and finding their flip flops and walking back to cars and motorbikes in their wet sarongs, happy to continue with the end of the ceremony.

laughter was in the air, peoples' faces were relaxed. joking began, chit-chat, people being offered rides. our car filled up with 10 people, one of which was a young woman that had been wiping her tears most of the time in the cemetery and being supported by her husband that was making sure that the priests didn't forget each time to sprinkle holy water on their symbolic child too. my heart had gone out especially to her. i wondered what her story was. did they have any other children? how old was her embryo/baby? how long ago did it happen? how did it happen? can she have more children? was it the hoped for "male" child that every family wants? she was sitting in the back seat near me, and when i saw her smiling and laughing and talking, i realized that it would be selfish of me to ask these curious questions at this point. it was clearly an important closure of a very emotional weight that each had lived with until now. the lightness in the air now at 10:30 a.m. after having begun the ceremony at 5 a.m. in the dark was a wonderful feeling. they had now completed their duty to the souls of their deceased baby.

even though i don't understand much indonesian, i knew that no one was busy talking about emotions with each other. we were off to eat a communal meal that the men had prepared at 4 a.m. for everyone. afterwards we returned home, ketut went to her room, to sleep, and now, when her husband returned from work, she is still there, hours later, and i can hear her sharing. i am happy for her. i realize that it is something that was hanging over them until now. there had been no closure until now. even when i had met her husband the first day and asked how many children they have, he answered "one son. my wife had another one, but it died and she could not have anymore. so one is enough." i am sure that in the future if someone asks them that same question, they will still mention the one that died, but the feeling of closure and a new life being reincarnated brings the same mournful reality some new life.