Funeral

We entered the house and it was incredibly silent even though it was filled to the brim with women. In the four rooms that I could see there were over 100 people. We walked through the first room and into a second where we placed our gifts (food, çaý, and in my case homemade peanut butter cookies – see blog I did it!!!) and shook hands with each of the women. They were, from what I could tell, the elders of the family. We gave each the standard greeting, ‘daýomy?’ literally - are you strong?, then we took our place along one of the walls and sat for a little while, there was a spread of food out but no one seemed to touch it. We sat in silence for a time and did a lot of praying. One of the elder women would say a prayer and everyone would cup their hands at their waist or chest and then when the prayer is over you take your hands and swipe them over your face as if your hands were filled with water and you are splashing it onto your face. Cutting through the silence was a startling, painful wail. It was much worse than hearing someone cry, even crying uncontrollably. The wail was filled with pain and anguish and intense hurt and sadness. Several of the women in the room I was in began to tear up and cry silently (this included me). Slowly, people began to exchange greetings and give condolences. Some food was brought out in bowls and people nibbled at it politely and after about five to ten minutes we left. We then went into a second hidden room that appeared to hold the immediate family. My director was in this room. I gave her a hug and shook everyone else’s hands. We sat down and declined the offerings of çaý and food out of what I believe was politeness. We sat in this room for another ten minutes or so and then stood up to leave. We walked back out the main room through 20 – 30 people. We then walked to another house, again filled with women, sat in another room after shaking hands with all the women who were sitting around the outside, we sat, exchanged greetings, prayed, ate a little bit, and someone gave me a gift of crackers (these are normally set out when you have guests over for çaý). I tried to casually leave them behind but one of the doctors told me I had forgotten them. I can’t really figure out why I got a gift, but this is not the first time this has happened. We spent another 10 minutes at this second house and then returned to walk home. On the way in and out I saw large gatherings of men. There were men coming and going from one of the houses and several large gatherings of men standing around the area where the women normally cook. It appeared that they were tending the steaming containers of food, if this was indeed the case this is a task not often done by men.
The lead up to the visitation is as follows. Today was the absolute right day to look as Turkmen as I could, I dressed the part and I didn’t even know what I was getting into. Last night Dilber (sister-in-law) suggested that I wear my new Turkmen vest with my one and only (not for much longer) Turkmen koýnek (dress). I have my weekly English lesson with the doctors and nurses on Thursdays (today) and she thought they would like it. They really did! Everyone’s face lit up as soon as they saw me. It was great! I felt silly, but sometimes you just have to. Shortly before our lesson began the doctors informed me that the head doctor, Jemagül, just had a death in the family (I believe it was a sibling but I’m not entirely sure). They said they were going to visit her after our lesson and asked if I would like to accompany them. I said yes. This is where I was very, very glad that I wore my Turkmen clothing. The lesson ends and we wait for a little while. I am asked if I have my hat with me because I need to have my head covered when we go and I run home to grab it. When I arrive at home I decided that it would be better if I was wearing a scarf rather than my crocheted hat. I opted for my one scarf. It is bright purple with crazy flowers on it – very Turkmen. I returned to the clinic with my head scarf looking incredibly Turkmen. I took pictures which I will hopefully get posted soon.
Looking back on it, I think that funeral rituals are very telling of a culture’s priorities. The number of people who were in Jemagül’s home and three or four surrounding homes was simply inspiring. There were so many people. The support of this small community was immense. On the way to and from the visitation everyone we passed seemed to be going to or coming from the house. My family knew about it and we live on the opposite side of town. In America community support in many places is, in my opinion, severely lacking. Americans go about their daily business and many times don’t connect with a single person outside of their home. I find, the more I travel, that much of the world finds this concept foreign. Most of the rest of the world embraces community and thrives with the support of community. While there are some communities that exist in the states they are usually far and few.