¡Saludos mi gente!
Sorry for such a delay since the last mensaje, I've had technical difficulties, my computer's been dead for a week now and the charger blew up due to a big 'ol power surge and mega high voltages. I know more about lowering and raising light now that I ever need to and I'm definitely going to think twice before plugging my computer into an unprotected socket. But such is life in a developing country. Since we last spoke, I've climbed a really big mountain, celebrated the DR's infamous carnaval celebrations and Independence Day on the 27th, turned 24(!!) on the 28th, and welcomed the newest group of volunteers to country! This week I want to chat about funerals and what death has taught me about life.
Peace Corps Volunteers go to a lot of funerals. In small towns and villages, because everyone knows and is related to everyone, you must pay your respects at every death in town even if it’s fulano’s brother’s sister’s cousin’s mom that you only ever said hi to from the back row in church. Especially if you don't know the person who died but you know the family, you’re expected to go cumplir and sit for hours and hours in someone’s house talking to family members, seeing the dead person in their open casket and eating lots of food. Funerals and death work differently here than they do in America. While we are used to embalming the body or cremating someone and then having a celebration of life ceremony months later, everything here happens very quickly.
Here’s a cheat sheet to death in the DR step by step:
1) Immediately after death: When someone dies, the family prepares the body and it’s ready and in a casket at the house within four or five hours. Friends, neighbors and distant relatives spend the day with the immediate family and pull an all-nighter to wake up with the family in the morning. This is known as the velorio and is done so that the close family doesn't have to wake up alone in their own grief. The community comes together to support the family. This part of death includes lots of porch sitting, food, coffee and story telling.
2) The next day: The day after death, the body is taken to church for mass (if there is a church in town, if not, someone speaks words over the body and there's a ton of praying) and then on to the cemetery, usually led by a hearse and hundreds of community members walking behind. The body is then entered into the family’s plot while close family members scream, cry and touch the casket until the last possible moment. Instead of being buried underground, each family reserves a certain amount of space in the cemetery and they build a huge shrine with little shelves where the caskets go. If you run out of space, the family just keeps building cement shelves on top of the others. Then, the funeral organizers close up the shelf’s slot with cement. This is called the entierro.
3) Nueve días: For the first nine days after a person’s death, a vigil is held with close family members every night. On the ninth day, there is a large mass and more food/family time. This is called nueve días and is the second time (after the velorio) that the entire community comes together to pray and send the body safely to heaven.
4) Each month after death: Then, on the date of the death each month for the next year, the close family takes flowers to the grave site and has a vigil in the home with candles and prayer. This is the cunplemes.
5) Each year after death for seven years: On the anniversary of someone’s death each year for seven years, close family brings more flowers to the grave and eats more food in close company. This is the aniversario. Usually there is a huge mass in town on the 1st anniversary of death.
Addendum: The close family members must wear black, gray and white for at least the first 9 days of mourning. Then, an individual will decide how long they wish to continue mourning, some choose to do so until the first month anniversary, others choose the full seven years (it's rare to mourn this long, but some do in the case of the loss of a child). This is called luto. During luto, you can't dance, drink or play loud music and community members have to respect the time you choose to mourn and not encourage you to dance, sing or dress up. People are in general, very respectful during this time.
Last week, Máxima, one of my favorite old doñas who was about to turn 99 years old, died. Reflecting on her death makes has helped me understand just a little more about life. Here are three things doña Máxima taught me about life.
1) Life is long.
There’s plenty of cheesy sayings explaining how very short and precious life is, but I believe thinking about life in terms of it being long and full of adventures, relationships, experiences, etc. actually helps me live better. Máxima’s life was long and she lived every moment of it. She was the brightest and happiest doña I’ve ever met, even though she was 90% blind, had a croaky voice no one could understand and sat on the couch all day every day. She liked to sit right by the window overlooking main street and she’d yell and greet the people she knew walking by. Every time I walked into her house and greeted her with a big “HOLA MAXIMA” she would know it was me by voice and hug alone. She always offered up whatever she was eating and made sure to keep a spot on the couch open right next to her for visitors. She lived a long and good life, and I hope to live like she did up until the day I hopefully turn 99. Knowing how very long life can be, I would rather live it like Maxima, happily and kindly, making the most of every relationship that I can. So much time to learn and grow!
2) Staying in bed is easy.
This isn't a comment so much about my good friend Maxima (who quite literally stayed in bed or in a rocker all day) but it's to say that Maxima’s death lit a fire under me to compartir more (which may sound funny to some of you who think that I literally compartir all day and don’t actually work – this is not the case). My whole community is out there and it's often much easier to just stay in bed/at home watching TV shows, reading good books or drinking vats of coffee and not visit neighbors. And I'd been rather good about visiting Maxima lately but there was a time when I avoided her house because it was the one with all the tigueres out front and I hated getting cat-called and hissed at. I rationalized not stopping by her house more than I motivated myself to get up and go. And when the news of her death came, I felt guilty. Yes I'd visited her six times in the last month, but I only ever stayed long enough to update her on life and then I rolled out. I know people always feel guilty about not visiting loved ones especially when they pass away, but most people don't have a community of old lovely people within a ten minute walk. Maxima’s death will remind me to visit my beloved community members with more regularity and take that part of my job just as seriously as I take the measurable "work" part.
3) Just imagine how much life Maxima saw.
And by this I mean, it’s truly incredible how much doñas know about life. From secret remedies and weird concoctions to drama and town gossip, Maxima knew everything. She was the queen of her little perch on the couch and saw hundreds of people pass by her house everyday. She also probably had upwards of 10-15 visitors a day stopping by to besa mano, blow kisses, and update Maxima on their families, children, ailments, etc. Doñas are sage members of society, well versed in love, sadness, happiness and every other emotion on the spectrum. And Maxima carried her wisdom beautifully.
Maxima's death was sad, of course. But when there is so much death around me, it becomes less ominous and overwhelming. The most important take away I'll have from an endless stream of velorios is learning how to productively reflect and grow from each death. Maxima was a great teacher in life and even more so in her death. She will be forever missed!
So there you have it, my reflection on life, death and my favorite doña Maxima. In the vein of talking about living life, I hiked the Caribbean’s tallest mountain, also known as Pico Duarte, the 79th tallest mountain in the world, Mud Hell Mountain, or the hardest hike I’ve ever done. I didn’t believe other volunteers who said it was very difficult and they wished they’d trained. Phew, I thought, they’re just weak and out of shape. Well, needless to say, they were right, I should have trained! It was a grueling 55 kilometer, three day, mud filled adventure that just kept getting better! I went with three other volunteers and my best friend from America (thanks for all the snacks!). The only training I did was not wash my hair for five days in preparation for no showers. Como quiera it got greasy. I am really lucky to have been placed in this beautiful country with diverse geography, affording me the opportunities to climb mountains, sit on beaches and swim in river. If y’all haven’t visited, you really should!!!
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