My first funeral

We continue to be surprised by new experiences, even after living here for 2 years. The other day I went to a funeral of a man I never met.

I had heard about the death of a friend's dad, but never entertained the thought of going to the funeral. The other morning I showed up at another friend's house and asked what he was up to. "I'm on my way to the funeral, want to come?", he asked. My initial thought was that was the last place I wanted to go, but then I thought why not? I'll learn something new. I thought it odd they were still dressed in their work clothes. We jumped on our motorcycles and off we went.

As we rounded a corner I saw just ahead a procession, people mostly walking behind VW bus that had a casket hanging out the back. We joined them, half walking, half riding our motorcycles. I soon realized we were heading for the cemetery (makes sense, but I was prepared for anything). The procession reminded me of a New Orleans funeral, minus the pageantry. I was surprised that the normally boisterous and expressive Brazilians chose to honor their dead with solemn reverence and awe, much like we do back home.

The freshly hand-dug hole was waiting for the casket. One interesting difference with the casket was the sky light. Really, I'm not kidding. They don't embalm here, so all caskets are closed, the window allows the mourners to see only the face of the deceased. After a few songs and a prayer, the casket was lowered by ropes into the hole. The gravediggers immediately started covering the casket and the crowd slowly dispersed.

My first Brazilian funeral reminded me again of the paradox of experiencing a different culture. In so many ways the people here seem foriegn, in every sense of the word. And yet, the more I get to know them and their customs, I see they are so much like me.