A Q'eqchi Funeral

Sorry for the delayed post! Without electricity it is hard for me to keep my computer charged, friends! But regardless, the last month has been jam packed with action in Indian Creek to say the least! I have attended village council meetings, went on bird walks as a new member of the Indian Creek birding club, helped weigh and measure baby's at a mobile health clinic, gotten to better know the village overall, became the assistant girl's soccer coach (I know very little about soccer), and even attended a funeral for my host father's sister.

But an item I do want to share a bit about was the funeral. A couple of Tuesdays ago, while battling a raging fever (unknowing of just how bad it would became as the day progressed into night) I stood four feet for my host father's sister, overlooking her and her surrounding loved ones. Earlier in the day I had agreed to go along with my host parents to see Ms. Pop in the Dangriga hospital, having found out only that morning that she was a Diabetic patient whose disease unfortunately had gotten the best of her.

I rode for two hours, partly in the rain, in the back on a pick up truck with 7 others to see this woman I had never met before. Upon arriving, I was filled with tears as this complete stranger was helped sit upright on her hospital bed, her legs swollen, black and blue. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as if she was possessed and she looked like she only had three days maximum. I realized at that moment that I had never truly seen in person the grave outcome of Diabetes. It was also then that I realized the value of my work here in Belize; that a little bit of education on non-communicable disease can be in fact, a matter of life and death.

We heard the solemn news on Thursday: she had passed at 3:00 that morning. The wake and funeral would take place Friday into Saturday. In Belize, many cultures participate in an overnight wake for the deceased, celebrating, rejoicing, and remembering the life of their beloved one. I unfortunately did not attend the wake, but did engage in the funeral the next day. It was a far different experience than what I know in the United States. When we reached the deceased house we entered the room where her coffin lay, and were instantly overcome by a crowd of people singing songs and praying over her body. This lasted about thirty minutes. Though I could not understand much of the prayers or song, I was still moved to tears by the amount of people who attended the funeral and by the pure sadness captured in their wet eyes and shaky voices. Thankfully, my host brother managed to explain some of the Q'eqchi customs to me; for example, if a younger child is close to the deceased, his or her parents will pass the child over the body multiple times to ward off the spirit from coming back to haunt the child. And another common custom is to take photos of the deceased at the funeral, which starts at the deceased's house then is moved to the church for service, and finished with the burial. On the way to the church my brother had asked me if I brought my camera with me. I replied to him stating, “no” and asked why I would have it. He laughed as if it was a silly question and said, “well to take pictures.” To my great surprise, people take pictures at funerals as a memory of the day.

We finished the morning around noon, with the burial in the community cemetery. You would not even know the cemetery here excites, as it is set back in a plot of trees and often is overgrown with tall grass. On a regular day if you look closely through the trees you might see the large gray, cement boxes, which serve as tombstones, blending in with their surroundings. However during a funeral service, men work vigorously all morning priming the place with their machetes. Graves here are dug out similar to those of the States, except instead of just a tombstone, the casket is covered with concrete, forming each individual burial site into a large cement box. Everyone, again crowded around as family and friends said their final goodbyes, and the body was lowered down into the grave. Once final words were spoken, the men slide a wooden slate over the grave and just like that, people started departing the cemetery and made their way back to the deceased's home for one last meal of the day.

I went to bed that night still emotional over the lose of my new family's loved one, but also really intrigued at the events of the day. Seeing this funeral service was no doubt unfortunate, but also really helped make me more aware/ put into perspective some of the cultures differences between me and my new community. I hope in the future I will come to learn more of these traditions, just hopefully on a more cheerful note!

Until next time! (and I promise I'll try to make it sooner than last!)