Burial customs, mon

I just got back from my latest travel yesterday at about 1:30 am after a rather trying day of travelling with Air Canada (Definitely not an airline I recommend going with). Oh yeah, before I get into my point, I watched a little documentary on archaeology on the flight over about stone henge. Guess who was the lead excavator? None other than our friend Mr. Parker Pearson! (He's a wee bit short and chubby).

     Anyways, this blog entry is inspired by a fellow class-mate and friend, ms. Carmen Fletcher who told me about a blog entry she did earlier in the semester about checking out a graveyard while travelling. It's mostly because of that and this class that really made me pay attention to the burial practices of the local population in Jamaica where I was visiting.

 view from the road leading into the mountains, away from the coast 

    The majority of event's i'll talk about occurred on the same day, while we took the tongue biting journey through less than drive-able roads in a difficult and mountainous terrain to visit the Mausoleum of Bob Marley. The majority of the time travelling from the coast into the center of the island was spent feeling like we were lost, particularly when we wound up in the middle of a funeral in a very small, secluded mountainous town. Judging from the sour looks of most of the surprisingly well-dressed mourners, we weren't welcome outsiders. The only exchange between the five of us in the car and the crowded road was a nod and the shout from a middle aged man exclaiming "It's a funeral mon, drive through!" (seriously, they do say mon... A LOT).

     The other run-ins with death we had (other than examining graves themselves) were with animals. In one circumstance, we drove by a small settlement where we heard the screaming of a dog. At the side of the road we saw a man prodding a large stick repeatedly into a dumpster-like bin, where the noise was coming from. With traffic tailing behind us on the small and winding road, we had no choice but to keep on driving, leaving the helpless screams of dispair from the dog behind. On our way back down to the coast, a similar experience ensued. This time, as we turned a hair-pin corner, we found a young puppy in the middle of the road, standing by what appeared to be its sibling. The body of the second dog was half squished into the road, with its tail still wagging rapidly. Again on a dangerously small road where accidents are frequent, we had little time to react. I remember looking up at the nearest house on the hill with its residents watching carelessly as the mother and brother/sister of the dying dog paced distraughtly  back and fourth along the road, risking death by staying to close. Once again we were forced to leave without taking action.

     I've encountered death before in a number of circumstances. Growing up in a rural area, animal death has been nothing out of the ordinary. However, there was something chilling about this time. Maybe it was the graphic sight and sound, maybe it was the mood I was in. It made me wonder how the locals could care so little, but one must recognize that this was just another difference of culture. Coming from an area where the rate of death from auto-accidents is one of (if not the) highest in the world, I suppose there is no surprise from the lack of remorse of those people watching one of their animals slowly die infront of their eyes (two of which were children no older than 7 or 8).


    Anyways, I should speak about the graves of human beings that I viewed. Unfortunately, I was unable to actually walk through any graveyards or even near any graves. What seemed to be the most common occurrence that was visible from the roadside was burial within the yards of loved ones; a little eerie, if you ask me. Everywhere we went were one or more tombs right next to the houses where the deceased's  family members lived. Bob Marleys tomb was also located right next to the house where he grew up.

Here's a quick snap shot of the only collective gravesite I saw on the whole trip

      Most likely due to British Colonial influence, much of the burials seemed similar to what you would expect here ( in terms of the tombs themselves, at least). Large concrete foundations with slabs of marble or concrete were the most common. At the funeral we saw, everyone was dressed in western drab: suits, gowns, dresses. It would have been really cool to see a Rasta style burial, but it seems christianity is the leading religion there.

Just thought I'd throw in this shot of the Jamaican country-side for fun

I just realized I completely forgot to include a really cool story about a wake I went to while we were in Jamaica. 

 On St. Patty's day we decided to go out to downtown Montego Bay (which is pretty busy on a regular night). On saturday, it was absolutely crazy -you could hardly drive down the road at any time, it was just so packed with people moving about. After walking down to a park where they had some sort of music festival, we started heading back, brushing off the constant stream of pushy locals hoping that we would buy whatever they were selling at the 'tourist' rate as we went. Towards the city center, there was this small, secluded beach, just packed with people. Looking down from the road we could see some sort of party or gathering going on, and a big section of lit candles spread out on the sand. Curiosity took over, and even though it appeared to be more of a local event, we decided to go down and check it out. 

 I've always wanted any closure process after my death to be more of a party ('celebration of life' sounds too phony) than a funeral. That's pretty much exactly what this was. At first we confused it as a straight up beach party, as they had a full out bar and enough bass to cause ear haemorrhaging -especially with the extremely vocal semi-rasta DJ. It was upon closer inspection (and realizing that although people were drinking, no one was really dancing or getting wild) of the candles that we realized this was a wake/memorial for someone who had recently passed. How cool is that?? Being remembered through and awesome beach party.