Today I attended my second funeral since I've come to Phnom Penh. The first was for an Australian man who died suddenly while on vacation. Only his travelling companions were here to attend the funeral, so my boss, Charlie Dittmeier who is a Catholic priest invited me to accompany him to the Buddhist wat that also serves as a crematorium for downtown Phnom Penh. Death, a certain reality for all of us is not covered over or even decorated here.



The Australian's body was brought directly from the hospital morgue covered with a white cloth in a simple wooden coffin. After a few words from Charlie and a reading the body was lifted directly into the crematorium where a roaring fire was already stoked to recieve its burden and fuel.


Today's wake was for the mother of my colleague, Vichet, the lead interpreter at Deaf Development Program. Several of us drove out to Vichet's home where her mother was laid out in a coffin much like the white one in the upper left hand corner of the picture here. There in the family's living room, which if you will remember in my description of Khmer houses also serves as the bedroom, was the coffin, accompanied by a large portrait of Vichet's mother. Relatives sat stoically while friends called and offered traditional incense and prayer.


A small meal followed our visit. Vichet, ever the gracious hostess, thought not of herself but of her guests who she welcomed with tearful but open arms. A professional group supports the family by hosting and preparing a wake meal and by bringing in the chairs, tents and tables needed to accomodate the mourners. In traditional Asian style friends offer envelopes of cash to defray the costs associated with the meals and funeral.

Vichet shed many tears as she described her mother's death and remains. I was impressed how she was able to express her feelings so openly in a traditionally tight lipped culture. But such openness was not true for all her siblings. In Cambodia, the youngest child of the deceased and sometimes other children shave their heads to mark the date of death. Her bald-headed younger brother sat stone-faced in shock surrounded by his friends who were joking and chatting. Clearly, he was not able to express his grief as openly, and his pain though "stuck" was no less obvious.

Tomorrow a hearse will take Vichet's mother's body to the crematorium. On Saturday, the family will host a traditional seventh day ceremony to remember their mother. This ceremony will be much more significant for the family and strict traditions will be followed to send their mother on to her next life. It occurred to me that funerals, wakes and memorial services ties the living to the deceased as well as tying the living to their cultures. So, such ceremonies while marking the life of one who has passed, really mark the ties of her or his relatives to their community and culture.