It was the last day of a week of events. We got there at about 9:45 am. There was no organized ceremony. Instead, the courtyard of the family's home was filled with people sitting at little tables or standing around. There was lots of activity, talking, live music, laughter, men smoking (in fact there was a tray of cigarettes for the taking right inside the door), women cooking. People were basically just hanging out.
At the entrance to the courtyard, people would stop at a table and make a donation to the family. This was carefully recorded. If, in the future, the family attended someone else's funeral, they would know exactly how much to donate to that family. No more, no less.
There was an altar at one end with a picture of the deceased above it and incense burning In front of it. Guests would go up whenever they wanted, get on their knees and kowtow three times to show respect for the deceased, then they would turn toward the family who was standing nearby and give a little bow towards them with their hands clasped in front of their hearts. Brian encouraged us to do so as well; it would bring honor to the man's family. We took turns kowtowing, and our style must have been really bad because each time one of us did it, there were ripples of good-natured laughter among the crowd. When I was doing it, I just said a prayer for the man and his family.
We hung out for a while, taking pictures, smiling at people, chatting. It was surprisingly comfortable being there. At some point they started putting plastic on the tables and bringing out food. They might feed hundreds of people at a funeral, so you can see why the monetary donations are helpful. While I have absolutely loved the food here (it is light and full of fresh vegetables), this meal was a little different. There were eight dishes, and they were, according to funeral tradition, heavy on the meat. Two of them were pure animal fat, another was a spicy liver. Some of the others were more palatable, and there were a few vegetables. We had eaten breakfast before we came, so we didn't make much of a dent in what was served. Jeanee, Brian's wife, was at my table and she joked that we would have to take home whatever we didn't finish. A few minutes later, though, I learned that she wasn't joking; they brought a bunch of small plastic bags for us to put the food in! Fortunately, the Linden Center staff would enjoy eating it and we wouldn't have to see it again.
We left to make room for the people who continued to arrive. Later that day they would all process with the coffin through the town to the burial ground in the mountains.
Things like this are the reason I love traveling with the Lindens. They are part of the community and have built strong connections. These relationships open doors to seeing parts of life in China that just aren't available to the average tourist. I may never see the Great Wall, but I have been to a funeral!
