Funeral in Koth Gaun

Disclaimer: My apologies to anyone offended by the following relation of my experience of a Nepali funeral service.

We were woken up one morning just after 6:30 a.m. to the sound of loud knocking at our window. I (Ken) was called outside by Pastor Shyem to accompany them to collect the body of a believer who died in the middle of the night. A previously built coffin was hastily finished in preparation for the body. We rented a bus to take the group to Koth Gaun for the funeral but, because the driver of the bus was Hindu, he wouldn't take the body, so we ended up borrowing a separate truck to carry the casket. On the way, I found out from Shyem that the Christians have to handle the entire procedure - from making the casket to picking up the body, the funeral service and the interment. The bus couldn't make it up the mountain as the roads were too narrow so we ended up hiking the rest of the way. When we arrived in the village, we noticed a group of people assembled around the house of the deceased. The covered body lay right out front of the house beside a pen of yaks. The truck arrived with the casket shortly thereafter and the service commenced right there. Crouched down in the front row, I had the privilege of getting a first-hand view of a Nepali funeral. What a mistake that was! The yak nearest me was relieving itself and, at the same time, swatting flies with its tail. The result was that the lucky recipients in the front row 'seats' were christened. I calmly rose from my squatting position and retreated to the 'safe' back row, far out of reach of any further personal violation. One of the believers from our church smiled, leaned towards me and whispered, "Welcome to Nepal."

The funeral service, which was officiated by Pastor Raju, ended after a brief sermon and some singing, and we proceeded back down the mountain to the burial place. At the first village we came to at the base of the mountain, I wondered why we suddenly stopped. Apparently we had forgotten the essential ropes with which to lower the casket. Shortly thereafter we were off again. We arrived at the Christian burial grounds some 20 minutes later. Some of the boys began carrying the casket through a gate up the hill. As we made our way through the forest over several mounds, I finally noticed a marker over one of these mounds and realized they were all grave sites. It felt rather disrespectful to be traversing over them but, again, this is a funeral Nepali-style.

As we proceeded up the hill, Hari (one of the street boys) and I met with a bull who seemed intent on charging us. He was stomping on the ground and thrashing his horns into the side of the ravine. Then the bull briefly lowered his head to chew on some vegetation so we quickly took that as our cue to make our escape. However, 2 other ladies from our group were still behind us and had to confront this animal. Hari warned them when to run but one lady missed the cue. Instead, she just lowered her head and stood very still. I thought that she knew something about bulls and that she was showing her submission in this manner. The bull did seem to slow down and calmly walked behind her. When she heard the bull's movement behind her, she quickly made her way up the hill to us. I found out that she actually knew nothing about bulls and was merely reading a headstone.

We caught up to the procession who were just attaching the ropes with which to lower the casket. But on the way down, one fellow let go of his rope, with the result that the coffin fell at an angle and got stuck head-down in the hole. The opposite fellow also dropped his ropes so now we had no ropes with which to level the casket. The other problem was that the lid had popped partly off in the process. One of the boys grabbed the shovel and began levering at the foot of the coffin to try and drop it, but with no success. Rabin, another street boy, was standing at the side of the hole with his hands on his hips, assessing the situation. The next moment, I saw him springing up and into the hole, landing with a loud thump on the head of the casket. He took another 2 good jumps and realized it was no use. He then managed to retrieve the rope from under the casket. He climbed out and began pulling at the head of the coffin while another fellow continued prying at the foot with the shovel. The casket finally fell into the hole with a thud. What a comedy of errors! The poor son & daughter of the deceased could do nothing but politely view the entire procedure.

After a short prayer and song, we all took turns covering the casket with dirt - no mortician, no funeral director - just the local believers interring one of their own. This was my initiation to a funeral ... Nepali-style.