Hungry Ghosts: Episode 3, the Funeral Crasher

A veneer of information from a tourism website about the Festival of the Hungry Ghosts, with its trappings of items to burn plus chanting/performance rituals, contributed to what would inevitably have to happen, under the circumstances. It honestly never crossed my mind that a funeral would be held underneath an apartment building. And the event I attended had everything I expected for hungry ghosts.

I can't remember the last time I was so mortified.

As the flash went off (I later learned), the mourners at the Taoist funeral (not the Buddhist festival I thought) were obviously stunned that a stranger would crash a funeral AND photograph their grief. In the moment, I knew I'd done something dreadfully wrong, but didn't know exactly what, since I had it on good authority that I could photograph ghost goings-on.

My legs would not move. I wanted to die and be serenaded by the male singer in drag, who (I discovered later) was dressed that way because he was singing the story of the dead woman's life (that was her photo at the altar, and the reason for all of the flowers, and all the white clothing). Her three children and (some, but not all) of the other mourners had a series of complex rituals to complete, and musical ritual performances by Taoist musicians were part of that.

The singers didn't miss a beat, most of the mourners' attention reverted almost immediately to the ceremony. But there were still plenty of people looking at me in bewilderment? dismay? dislike? I felt the latter. Quickly, a woman (who was clearly the organizer) came over and introduced herself. Selene asked if I needed something, and why was I there. I blurted out that I had just realized that I was probably not at a hungry ghost festival, which I had planned to attend that night to learn more about Chinese culture, but was at some other kind of event. The lightbulb had still not gone on for me. She very kindly said, "No, that's for sure, this is a Tao funeral."

I cannot imagine what my face must have looked like when she said that, I nearly burst into tears (being surrounded by crying people probably was part of me bubbling up, but so was my embarrasment). "I'm so sorry I intruded on this family's grief, I never would have done it if I had known, I'll just try to slip away unnoticed.: "That's unlikely, everyone is certainly aware you're here." "Let me try, I'll just go quietly." "No, stay and learn something. The best thing you can do now is stay. I'll explain your mistake, it would honor us if you would feel welcome, you are our guest now." She was very nice, at the same time insistent that now I was there I should stay. She brought me a chair, said something to the woman I was standing next to, who then sat down beside me. So I stayed. What else could I do?

My partner was a lovely Chinese woman whose child was god-daughter of the dead woman. The Chinese woman, Li, spoke enough English that we could communicate, and her daughter Evelyn was very chatty in the breaks between segments of the performance, explaining many of the rituals to me.

The dead woman's three children came and spoke to me (her youngest son has been in Houston for the past two years, he's a pilot in the Singapore Air Force). The eldest son was very distraught, but gracious. The daughter was quiet, but thanked me for staying to honor her mother's life, she graciously said that my presence was an understandable mistake for someone unfamiliar with Chinese culture. The widower came and introduced himself. Ideas of quiet escape at the first opportunity vanished; I had no choice at all but to stay until the end. At the second intermission in a very long ceremony (I was there for over three hours, and I came late) a meal was served. I ate.

I ate in the company of charming people, all very tolerant of me. I enjoyed talking to them, they explained more about the rituals I was seeing and confessed that the singers were using a Chinese dialect they did not understand, making for a long evening in their opinion. They gave me a red thread to tie around my finger, warning me to let the thread fly away before I went up the stairs to the flat, distracting the ghosts trying to follow me up the stairs. I'm not sure whether everyone got a red thread, or whether I was perceived as particularly vulnerable to being on the receiving end of ghost attention. Anyway, I took it, tied it around my finger, and (though I'm not superstititious) I dropped the thread at the foot of the stairs to distract any pesky ghosts.

At the end of the third segment of the Taoist rituals, alter materials were gathered up by the mourners (a very elaborate paper car and house, bags of "money") and taken to the apartment complex's burning pit. A lot of burning goes on in Chinese rituals, consequently all apartment buildings have arrangements for burning.

Throughout the funeral ceremony guests came and went, while a conductor regaled the mourners with instructions. He made them line up, walk in particular ways, hold certain items, put joss sticks in particular places, and to bow at appropriate times. I noticed that some mourners discreetly approached Selene and gave cash. I resolved to wait for an opportune moment to atone (in the fiscal sense) for my uninvited presence in one of life's most intimate events. Once burning was in the works, Selene was tidying up. There were no other mourners around, all of them were participating in that part of the ceremony. Could I make a donation, as a mark of respect, as other guests had done? She opened the book where she was keeping records (all in Chinese characters) and asked me to write my name. I was able to see that people had given donations from S$20 to S$300. I only had a $50 bill in my purse. Easy decision, that, buying back a bit of my dignity. I was finally able to slip away without having to face the family again, or make a scene.

Today the music was provided by five men with horned instruments, and sounded like an Asian version of jazz music played in funeral processions in New Orleans. The ceremony resumed this morning around 10 (the noise was the dead giveaway, it is very noisy to keep bad spirits at bay), so I stepped out on the walkway to observe from a distance. I didn't want to intrude again, it just didn't seem right, but I did want the mourners to know that I was trying to be respectful. Many saw me, and several waved. I didn't want to shout hello, so I waved back and put my hand on my heart and hoped that somehow translated into "I'm sorry too."

I could not see, only hear, the coffin being nailed shut. I'm not sure why, but tears welled up. Even from a distance, the effect that had on the family was obvious. Stoic the night before, they were sobbing now. The coffin was put in a hearse, unlike any I've ever seen, since the back was entirely glass so that the coffin could be seen. The picture of the dead woman was wired to the front of the hearse. The musicians led the procession away from the building, followed by the hearse with the three kids touching it, walking behind. Two buses were hired to take mourners to the cemetery. I noticed that Selene remained behind when the procession left, and I walked down to apologize again for my blunder the night before. She said everyone understood perfectly that I was curious about Chinese culture and that they were touched by my donation. Whether that was said to help me save face, or not, I'll never know. But I hope it was true.

In the end, attending the funeral took nearly as long and cost twice as much as the "Spooky Walk" in terms of money, and a hundred times the embarrassment. And I didn't learn a thing about hungry ghosts. But I participated, even if inadvertently, in a cultural event that I bet few Westerners have an opportunity to see. It was fascinating. I'm sorry I was a funeral crasher, but I'm not sorry I saw the funeral.

And I think my mistake, and my sincere apology for making it, were taken at face value and forgiven. At least I hope so. That episode had the unexpected knock-on effect of being the icebreaker for meeting more people here in the HDB estate. But I'll write about that another time.