First, when someone dies, the body lays in state for 3 days at the home - during which time, like a really long wake, friends, family and relatives visit and drop off small monetery gifts. By the 2nd day, the femail relatives have already begun cooking for the masa.
Then, on the 4th day is the funeral. We (bunel & I) arrived at the house at 11:30 -- and everything got started an hour late. Because of the heat, the priest arrived by car and held the service outside on the driveway. She was lying in a plain wooden casket lined with wine-colored satin and filled with photos of her loved ones and fresh flowers. About 150 people were there but I was assured hundreds more had paid their respects earlier. Before she died, Maria (the deceased) purchased gifts for all her relatives and friends. In America, we have wills and distribute our assets, post-mortem -- but in Moldova, where the tradition is a little different, all the gifts are placed on a tarp on the ground (in this case in the middle of the driveway) for display. Then, after the service, the 4 pall bearers - who were each given a shirt as a gift and had tied it around their shoulders - carried the casket over the pile of gifts. After that, everyone claimed their gift and took it with them. Typical items in the pile - comforters, pillows, clothes, towels and my favorite, pairs of jockey shorts. Children were given branches that had cookies and candy tied to them. They celebrated life - according to bunel - who didn't really know anything for sure and I suspect just wanted me to stop asking questions.
From there, her open casket was put into the back of a decorated flat-bed truck with all of the flower arrangements. Most of the arrangements were huge - and all fake. But some people brought carnations or amaryllis -- but only in even numbers (odd numbers are for any occasion except death). A little girl was also put into the back of the truck with a branch to ward off flies. The truck started off and we ALL followed on foot to the church where the bells were rung and the priest was dropped off.
But this was only the beginning.
From the church, we processed to the cemetery (7 km) on foot. Every 10 minutes of so, Maria's oldest daughter put a plastic wrapped packet on the road for the truck to drive over and bless (not run over - just drive over). In each packet were a braided bread, a dishtowel, candy, and candles. These were pieces of the person's soul (I believe) and after it was blessed (i.e. driven over) it was given to a walker and the walker kissed it saying - 'To the soul of Maria'. There were 40 of these bundles signifying the 40 bridges that the dead must cross to get to heaven (whether this is an Orthodox thing or a Moldovan thing - I don't know). I got one of the bundles - and was pretty surprised - as I'd never met Maria or her daughter - but I accepted it with honor.
Thankfully, I thought to purchase a bottle (1.5 liters) of mineral water before starting my adventure - and soon became the most popular person on the route. Everyone was coming up to me, introducing themselves, telling me they knew my bunel, and then waiting for me to offer them water. Which I did. And to heck with the germs (although I did think about it - there was no way to avoid it without being unspeakably rude).
So we schlumped along in the heat for almost an hour - and then stopped just as my bunel told me we were getting close to the cemetery. I was confused - why stop know when we were FINALLY going to get there!?! (I had been warned of the long schlep to the cemetery was rewarded with car-rides back to town). The stop, it tuned out, was to have a last 'party' for the dead person. A guy with a BUCKET (serious, it was a red, plastic, dig-me-a-hole-and-build-me-a-sandcastle bucket) of wine and one glass, was walking around and making everyone drink a decent juice-glass sized slug of home-made wine (which we followed with some of the recently blessed bread from my plastic bag). And then we were off again.
Arriving at the cemetery, the pallbearers fetched a metal gurney and put the casket on it (I, for a horrifying minute, thought they were going to remove her from the casket). And so she was carried, still open, to the grave that the pallbearers had dug earlier in the day. There is no professional funeral help. Just us, the mourners, as even the priest didn't come with us.
And the time had arrived for everyone to say goodbye. Children, relatives, and even her mother, kissed her goodbye and kissed the cross she was holding. They also poured wine in the shape of the cross over her legs. And finally, right before the lid to the coffin was screwed on, her daughter untied her feet (which I guess is horrible bad luck for the dead person if you forget to do it.)
After that - the pallbearers lowered her into the ground with what looked like seatbelts and everyone threw a clod of dirt on her casket. And walked quietly out - after having another shot glass of housewine - for Maria's soul.
From there - we carpooled/van pooled/hitch hiked with farmers on hay wagons (bunel wouldn't let me - but other people my age were doing it) back to the center of town where a bar (big bar) had been rented out and a masa had been put. The female relatives had been cooking for 3 days and had prepared all the foods in the same quantities that are available for wedddings, baptisms, & birthday parties. Minus the chicken jello because it was so hot. But they had made fried lake fish, salads, breads, fried chicken, dill potatoes, fresh veggie plates, and desserts. All of this complemented by a pitcher of wine, bottle of champagne, bottle of cognac, bottle of vodka, and bottle of mineral water for every 4 people. The mood was definately more subdued than at other masas, but with over 200 people eating, it was still a noisy event.
And that's death in Moldova. Different, but just as sad.
S