How Other Cultures Look at Death and What We Can Learn From Them
By Judith Fein
For twenty years, while I explored the world as an international travel journalist, I wanted to find out how other cultures looked at death, and if they saw it as final. My assignments took me to Japan, Brazil, Vanuatu, South Africa, Norway, Micronesia, Israel, Mexico, Nigeria, Ukraine, Italy, and beyond. Each ceremony and experience was different but there was one commonality: death is not the end. Although we may lose people we love, or people with whom we have unresolved relationships, it is entirely possible, and even normal, to continue communication after death.
After each trip, I had plenty to think about. One of the best parts of travel is that it exposes us to different ways of living, thinking, and behaving. It expands the boundaries of what is possible, and makes us consider changes to our own lives. Enough theory. Come along with me on one of the trips, to the remote island of Mog-Mog, where my husband Paul and I were permitted to attend a funeral. We were two of the four visitors who had come to the island in the previous year.
After we disembarked from the ferry, topless girls in grass skirts and men wearing loincloths greeted us. They invited us to their outdoor cooking areas where they offered us fresh fish, taro, stew, and as much coconut water as we could drink. Then they gestured for us to camp outside the thatched house where a coffin lay amid the ritualized crying of grief-stricken women. As they wailed, they also expressed their feelings about the deceased — which were not always positive.
A man from Mog Mog, who acted as our translator, said mourners might talk about the generosity of the deceased and also his drinking and abusive behavior. They can praise his skills as a storyteller and regret his periodic irresponsibility and lying to cover up for his wrongdoing. They can lionize or lambaste him.
At first I was shocked. Can’t they just leave the dead in peace? I wondered. But I said nothing, sitting and listening to the wailing and talk.
Finally, fascinated by the idea that people speak their truth about the deceased but not quite understanding how and why it is done, I asked our translator.
“During a Mog Mog funeral,” he began, “ people are expected to air all of their feelings about the deceased person publicly, so the negative emotions don’t eat away at their insides. The bad feelings are expressed, rather than kept inside, and then they are buried along with the body. At a funeral, people reveal their true feelings, but speaking badly of the deceased outside of this context is taboo. And it is forbidden to speak badly about the dead person once he is lying in his final resting place.”
“You mean that a person doesn’t become a saint just because he died?” I asked.
“He can be a saint. He can be a sinner. He can be both. And maybe it is a relief for the person to die without any secrets.”
The funeral experience and our translator’s explanation resonated with me on a very deep level. Perhaps the inhabitants of Mog Mog got it right. A person doesn’t automatically ascend to sainthood just because he has left the earthly plane. Maybe honoring a person for what he did right or wrong during his lifetime isn’t a bad idea. It may actually be inspired. And perhaps it gives peace to the soul of the person who has died. No more secrets. No more lies. No more shame. Everything is transparent, out in the open. And it is done publicly.
“The people who are left behind express who the deceased really was, and with that open truth there comes a relaxation of tensions that are kept inside. So saying the truth brings a kind of peace for the living and the dead,” our translator explained.
“It’s good,” I said to him, and he nodded.
Then I noticed a man who had come over with us on the ferry. First he said hello, I said hello, and then he said he was happy to make my acquaintance. I said I was happy to make his. His face was so open and friendly, that I inquired if it was appropriate to ask him a few questions. Yes, he said.
“Do you believe there is life beyond our life here on earth?”
“Oh yes,” he said with conviction. “There are spirit worlds. Certain people can communicate with spirits, for sure.”
“And do you think the deceased person can hear what is being said about him at his funeral service?”
“Oh, yes.” “And can it bring relief or peace to the living and the dead?” “Yes, for sure, ma’am.” I didn’t ask any further questions, and he didn’t provide any more information, but I had learned all I needed to know. Even if the relationship was troubled, the living can help the dead by speaking the truth and telling the real story. It is a weight removed from the hearts of those who continue living, and even absent any forgiveness, it allows the deceased to acknowledge what he did that was wrong.
When I returned home to the United States, I told friends about my experience on Mog Mog. Several of them said they wouldn’t mind having funerals like that, and it would be liberating for them and for those they had left behind. I must admit that I concur. I wonder how you feel about it.
Judith Fein is an award-winning travel journalist, speaker, workshop leader and author who has contributed to 110 international publications. Her highly acclaimed new book, HOW TO COMMUNICATE WITH THE DEAD…and How Cultures Do It Around the World, is a groundbreaking and fascinating look at death and its aftermath. Communicating with the deceased can provide relief for grief and loss and help the living if they are going through a difficult time or are just curious. To learn more visit: www.GlobalAdventure.us
Knitted Artwork by Shanell Papp
