My other mother

09.07.2009

Fr Warren Kinne describes the funeral rite for his elderly Chinese 'mother.'

The only person left in the world to call me "Da erzi," "(my) big son" died at the beginning of the week. Zhou Rui Lan was well into her 80s and although she had been bed-ridden for some time, she was mentally alert to the end. Even inside the last week she was delighted to see me. Communication wasn't easy between us as she only spoke Shanghai dialect and I find that largely incomprehensible.  She would speak her bits and I would speak mine in Mandarin and there was a meeting  of minds if not languages.

Then she would doze off while I read "The Shanghai Daily." Then I would excuse myself and walk back to my place.

When a distraught daughter called me on the phone to inform me of her mother's death, I dropped tools and headed around to the wee old house. Incense sticks were thrust into my hands which I lit, did the bow and put in the container before her picture. Then I tossed some paper money into a burning bucket in front of the table. The funeral was to be the next day at Long Hua.

Her old Work Unit had ordered a bus and on Tuesday we headed off for the funeral parlour. There we lined up behind her natural son who held her framed picture in front of him. This rested on his chest. Inside the parlour we signed the book and were given a flower.

I had a white piece of cloth tied at the left side around my waist and a black patch pinned to my left arm. Then I stood with the two other children,a little younger than I, in the front row. Any queries from others there were met with "mother would have wanted it."

Two people gave speeches - one from the Work Unit who mentioned the Communist Party frequently, and the other from her natural-born son. Both showed a lot of emotion. Then we did certain rituals that included profound bows with heads to the ground; placing the flowers; group circulation of the coffin and some wailing. But for me the really interesting ritual was "dressing" the old lady ritually - from long underwear to jacket that was placed over her corpse in the coffin.

Then paper "silver and gold bars" were poured in, towels and other bits and pieces shoved into corners, and finally fresh flowers to fill the coffin to the brim. Then we all had a turn at nailing down the lid. After that we processed to the outside hearse that was to take the remains to the crematorium in another place.

All the funeral participants were given a bag with a towel, a chocolate bar and a Chinese rice bowl and spoon with characters for a "boundless long life" written there. Then we re-boarded the bus for a banquet where the assembled throng all seemed to have come from a funeral. There was a good deal of "bottoms up" and curling smoke. People seemed now to be relaxed.

On the way into the banquet we went in a single file and threw a left leg over a fire. I was happy to note that I wasn't wearing any synthetic fabrics as the fire was scorching and a mite dangerous. No one seemed to know the significance of this ritual but I guess it confused any accompanying malevolent spirits and smoked them out of the banqueting hall. Mind you, the cigarette smoke inside might have been enough.

After that I made the mistake of visiting a Chinese friend who wasn't at all happy to know that I had come straight from the Memorial Meeting to her house. "Why didn't you go to your own house first?" she asked? So I have a lot of learning to do yet.

Old rituals are being resurrected here in China but the meaning of the rituals seems now to be vague. But what is clear in this otherwise rather secular celebration is that "filial piety" is alive and well, and a belief in the after-life seems pretty well demonstrated given the bullion we loaded into Old Chinese Mother's coffin. I hope she is enjoying the good life.

Fr Warren Kinne teaches in Fudan University in Shanghai.