So there I was, in the midst of a cremation procession (I can’t say that everyday) and I could barely contain my excitement.  As the parade advanced toward us, I noticed groups of people carrying different objects. The first man carried a long white cloth and about ten women walked behind him each holding a segment of the cloth. Immediately after them, four men passed in front of me carrying an empty wooden coffin that looked like a bed and was painted bright yellow with other colorful accents. Next in the procession came a small tower that appeared to be about five feet tall. It was also painted in bright cheerful colors and was attached to a bamboo grid platform born by 9 adolescent boys. At the base were a variety of local fruits. Strips of young coconut leaves waved in the wind from the top.

The second tower to approach was larger and was born by about 20 men on a wider bamboo grid. It looked to be about eight feet tall. Sitting at the top of the colorful tower, there appeared to be a regal-looking chair sheltered from the sun by a happy yellow silk-tasseled umbrella. The seat of the chair was stuffed with different kinds of grasses and about five fabrics of different colors and lengths flowed from the front of the seat like carpets.

wade coming up the hill

Both of these towers, however, were dwarfed in size, color and detail by the last and largest tower, the wade, which was so heavy it had to be carried by 50 men who still strained under its weight. As the twelve-foot tall tower approached me, I noticed two men riding in the top tier, each hanging on for dear life as the men carrying the tower ran and twirled it in the streets. Sometimes the weight of the wade was too much for its carriers who would collapse under it making me wonder if the tower and men inside would fall to the ground. The men in the wade were there to secure the body of the deceased which was wrapped in a white sheet and was also riding in the tower. Given all the spinning and near drops, it was amazing that the men and their precious cargo didn’t all spill out. Luckily that didn’t happen although sometimes it apparently does as I was advised that there exists a special ceremony to take the body back in the event it falls and touches the ground.

Following the wade was a throng of people with a twenty-five or thirty member band of musicians playing upbeat festive Balinese music that contributed to the mood that more closely resembled Mardi Gras than a funeral procession.

When the men carrying the wade approached the intersection at the top of the hill, they began running in a circle, spinning the wade to confuse the spirit of the dead woman so that she could not return home. As they spun, some of the carriers fell to their knees causing the wade to dip very precariously. Apparently it was well attached to the bamboo grid, however, and didn’t fall off. The men recovered, rebalanced and surged forward at a run. Sometimes the power lines were too low for wade to pass and a man carrying a long bamboo pole with a V-shaped tip would lift up the line so the wade could pass under.

musicians in the procession

Mun and I hopped on our motorbike and took up the rear guard of the procession which passed right in front of Ayu and Raka’s house. Mun, who had been sick on and off the past few days, was exhausted and didn’t share my enthusiasm for the cremation ceremony. So he stayed at the house where Ayu and Raka kindly let him take a nap while I continued to follow the procession on foot. I had only walked about one block when I heard a friendly voice behind me say, “Hi. How are you? Where are you from?” I turned to see a handsome young Balinese man smartly dressed in black and white with a video camera in his hand.

He introduced himself as Wisnu and told me that he was the great-grandson of the woman being cremated. He was in charge of making a video of the proceedings for the family and invited me to join him! I eagerly agreed and all of a sudden, instead of filming and photographing the events from the rear, I was now escorted to the front and given, along with Wisnu, the choicest spots from which to record the celebration. Wisnu and I would run to the front of the procession, film for a bit as they passed us and then run to the front again. I wanted to capture the event both on video and with still pictures. Without Mun there to assist me, I often had the movie camera in my left hand, my D5 in my right hand and a lens cap in my mouth as my pants pockets were completely inaccessible under my sarong. It was probably the most exhilarating photography I’ve ever done.

wade making its way into the cemetery

The procession turned down a quiet street and shortly thereafter into a field that apparently served as the village cemetery. Wisnu and I were in front of the wade at this point, walking backwards over the uneven terrain, filming as we went. Several times I tripped over the back of my long sarong which kept getting caught under my shoes. The men carrying the wade were having just as difficult a time controlling their cargo and Wisnu warned me that if I fell, I would simply be trampled by the wade-bearing men as they would be unable to stop their momentum. Already sensing that this would be the case, I ceased filming momentarily, hiked up my sarong and moved to higher ground.

About 100 yards into the cemetery, the men set the wade down near a small hill about 15 feet high upon which was constructed a wooden table covered by a temporary bamboo pavilion wrapped in white sheets. The musicians took their seats in the field and the music ceased. The four men who had been carrying the empty casket placed it on the table. Several men took the body down from the top of the wade, placed it on what looked like a stretcher made of bamboo and carried it to the top of the hill. They processed around the pavilion three times, shaking the body somewhat violently as they escorted it. I think the significance of the three circles was the same as in the Memukur, each pass representing the three levels of existence: the lower beings, humans and the gods. After the last pass, they placed the body in the casket and threw the stretcher on the ground to the side. Women carrying large black tubs on their heads walked up the hill and about 15 immediate family members gathered around the body.

removing the body from the wade

I could see that they were performing various mini-ceremonies around the body but couldn’t really see what was going on. Wisnu was at the top of the hill filming, but I assumed that my invitation to join him had only included the procession and not this intimate gathering which was family only. I joined the rest of the villagers and more distantly related family in the field and put a long lens on my camera to resume photography from there. As I looked around the field, I noticed about 5 westerners photographing the event, presumably equally interested in this fascinating custom. I turned my attention back to the people around me and was surprised and amused to see a man selling cigarettes walking through the crowd and hawking his wares. It was most definitely a different atmosphere from any funeral I’d ever attended! 

pouring holy water on the body

I looked at the top of the hill again and was astonished to see Wisnu beckoning me to come up. It was obviously such an intimate gathering at the top of the hill, I thought I must be imagining things. “Who me?” I indicated, pointing to myself and giving him a quizical look. Yes, he nodded. Come up here.

I must have turned fifty shades of red to match my kebaya as I walked up the hill, hoping everyone had also seen Wisnu invite me, imagining though that they did not and were wondering who was the presumptuous white western woman invading this special ceremony. At the top of the hill, he introduced me to several of his relatives and then cleared a space for me at his great-grandmother’s feet so that I had an ideal view of the ministrations to her body. I photographed quickly, thinking that my invitation to be present was merely momentary. Wisnu again surprised me when, instead of indicating that I should return to my place at the bottom of the hill, he began explaining what was going on. I filmed and listened simultaneously. 

The body was still wrapped in a sheet. Several people on either side of the coffin held a piece of cloth that looked like cheesecloth about a foot over the body. There were already flowers strewn on top of the cloth as well as on the body itself and the priest was pouring container after container of water over the flower-covered cloth. Some containers were lovely ceramic while most others were humble plastic baggies. Wisnu explained that the water symbolized cleansing and each container of water came from different rivers and temples all over the island; each having been specially gathered for this ceremony. There are obviously a lot of different rivers and temples with holy water on the island; I must have seen at least 20-30 containers of water poured through the cloth and onto the body.

women waiting at the bottom of the hill

Wisnu explained that unlike many Balinese, his great-grandmother had not been buried after she died but was immediately cremated. Apparently, his family was wealthy enough to afford the expensive ceremony (in their case around $6,000). Most families have to save money for many years to afford a cremation during which time their dead lie buried in the cemetery. “Immediate” has a different meaning in Bali though than it would in the west. Wisnu’s great-grandmother died 20 days before she was cremated. Those who have money for immediate cremation will consult the pednanda (high priest) for the first auspicious date dictated by the Balinese calendar to hold the cremation ceremony. Until then, body is laid out in the bale of the family compound (the bale is a special room in the compound used only for the most important ceremonies). Immediately (in the western sense) after death, the body is injected with enbalming fluid to preserve it and prevent decay during the wait for the cremation. The Balinese also use this time to prepare the myriad of offerings used in the ceremony, build the wade and accompanying towers, gather the waters from all over the island and many other things that take place “behind the scenes.” Everyday during the time that the body is lying in state, special offerings are brought to it, including coffee, tea and symbolic meals.

box with great-grandmother's personal belongings

At this point, five women carried another white sheet from the bottom of the hill to the top and placed it on the body. They unrolled the sheet which contained flowers, rice and some belongings of the dead woman. They also brought a small white wooden box whose contents they emptied one at a time and placed on the body. Mostly, these were clothes and personal items that belonged to the lady. They laid her with her sarong and kebaya on top of her body, pulled a brand new pair flip-flops from their plastic wrapper and placed them near her feet. Money and Chinese coins were put in the coffin along with the rest. I have read that the purpose of a Balinese cremation ceremony is to free the body of all worldly attachments so I presume that was the reason the family was burning all of the woman’s belongings along with her body, preparing her soul to be reunited with the Supreme Being as a first step to her reincarnation. Before leaving the hill, the family last placed under the table a bamboo basket of green leaves that I guess also contained some offerings.

body prepared for cremation

At one point during all the ministrations, Wisnu had left the hill, telling me to stay and keep photographing. That was all the encouragement I needed. He returned a while later with a bottle of water for me. My God! Could this guy make me feel any more like an honored guest?! Throughout our time on the hill, I thanked him profusely for allowing me this rare close-up glimpse into a ceremony I’d been reading about since before my trip began. I told him repeatedly what a very special gift he was giving me and that I considered it an honor and a privilege to be allowed into such an intimate family moment. His reason for inviting me, he said, was so that I could tell other westerners about Bali and their traditions, hopefully enticing others to come see for themselves. No problem, I thought! But what about the other western photographers lingering in the field that day (who I’m sure were not happy to have a white woman “embedded” with the family “ruining” their photo opps)? Why didn’t Wisnu invite them for a close-up view too? Was it just because he and I had already chatted in the street? Or because I was the only one wearing a traditional Balinese costume (if so, thank goodness for the ceremony that morning!). Whatever his reason for inviting me, I will be forever grateful.

Putu in front of the wade

I left the pavilion with Wisnu and the rest of his family and we took our seats at the bottom of the hill. We visited, I was introduced around, brought more water and we took turns taking photos of each other with the family. Wisnu invited me to climb through the bamboo grid and pose with the wade, one of many things he encouraged that day that I wouldn’t have dared to do uninvited – and barely dared to do anyway.

Shortly, a few men brought containers of propane gas, lit a fire under the table and began the actual cremation process. Wisnu told me that in years past, they would use a special kind of wood under the table as firewood to burn the body. Although it gave off a pleasant odor, it would often take 3 hours or more to complete the cremation so now, they just used propane gas.

Again, he surprised me when he proposed that we have our photo made together … with the burning sarcophagus as the backdrop. Definitely a different kind of funeral than those we have in the west! But I figured he knew the ropes so I joined him for what has to be the most surreal photo of my entire trip.

with Wisnu (I can't believe this is really happening!)

While we were waiting for the cremation to be complete, Wisnu and I chatted. He told me that people jealous of his family had prayed to their gods for rain that day, while he and his family had implored their own gods to keep the rain at bay. The two groups of gods did battle among themselves and Wisnu’s gods had obviously won as the rain had stopped early that morning. I wondered whether the jealous families had pulled a fast one though, as the sun had come out and was starting to get downright hot. At the last cremation, Wisnu said, they weren’t so lucky. It poured rain which obviously meant that his family had lost the village “battle of the gods.”

It took about an hour for the body and all the accoutrements to completely burn. To hasten the process, a sheet of metal was placed on top of the coffin focusing the intense heat. In the meantime, more introductions were made and I was invited to join the family for a mini-picnic before the feast. They had obviously had the event catered, one of the many expenses incurred, and I was presented with plastic containers of traditional Balinese snacks: doughy rice cakes topped with shredded coconut, slices of cucumber, slices of tart mango and fried rice. A number of Wisnu’s cousins wanted to sit with me, but would get very shy when I complied. His sweet friendly mother, however, practically plopped in my lap and we chatted as much as we could through the language barrier when Wisnu wasn’t translating for us. They invited me to attend the family banquet after the ceremony was complete. 

with Wisnu's family

Eventually, the burning was finished and the family reassembled on the hill. They doused the smoldering ashes with hollow bamboo lengths filled with water until the pieces were cool enough to touch. The ground was still very warm from the heat though and I could feel it through my sandals as I photographed the family who were sifting through the ashes. They picked out fragments of bone and the Chinese coins and placed them in conical shaped woven bamboo baskets. More water was poured through the baskets rinsing the ash off and the clean contents were transferred to a white cloth-lined basket. When Wisnu saw they were at this stage of the ceremony, he excused himself saying “Oh! This is something I have to do.” I guess it’s required that all family members participate in this segment.

The memory card on my camera filled at this point. No more photos; only video and those batteries were about to die. I prayed to any god that would listen that they would last as long as possible. 

 When all the bones and coins were gathered, a woman carrying the basket containing them walked down the hill and over to the medium sized tower I had seen processed through the streets earlier. The basket was placed in the seat of the “chair” on the tower and several women began handing the priest baggies of different colored liquids – clear, green, brown – along with handfuls of noodles. These were all placed/poured in the basket on the chair seat.

the family gathering bone fragments and Chinese coins

At this point, the memory card on my video camera filled. Almost simultaneously, a text message from Mun brought me back to Earth. “It’s almost 4:00 and we still have to drive back to Ubud. How about if you wrap it up and come get me?” Even without the ability to record anymore, I longed to stay with the family until the very end of the ceremony. But that involved a procession to the river where the bones and coins would be deposited as well as a full-blown family feast. It would likely be another three or four hours before the village dispersed and went home. Mun had already given up a whole day of his one-week vacation on Bali to my ceremonial obsessions. It was time for me to go. It was with great regret that I said goodbye to Wisnu and his kind family for the privilege of including me in this very special family ceremony. I can only repay him by honoring his request that I do what I can to tell others about it.

To see video of this amazing event, click here. NOTE: The video is almost 30 minutes long. Don’t be scared – you will not see an actual body. I gave my family a sneak preview a couple days ago and they reported that it took a while to download, but finally played. Just so you don’t think you’re doing anything wrong, here’s Dad’s input: “Since the files are so large we would get a “stack error” message. All we had to do was click on that box to clear the error message and then let the file continue to download. There is a little “gearwheel” in the lower right part of the screen that continues to spin letting you know something is going on. It took another 4-5 minutes to finish downloading and then it played fine. So patience is required.” But I assure you, it’s worth the wait!

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.