9 Days of Mourning

When I first arrived in Baoba everyone told me that during the month of December I would not be able to sleep because of all of the loud music, dancing and Christmas festivities. Noche Buena (or Christmas Eve) is the biggest holiday of the year in the Dominican Republic, and I was looking forward to seeing the celebration.

Well, the people were right. I have not slept for a week (**This post was actually written in my journal on Jan. 2**). However I do not think my experiences were exactly what everyone meant. The midnight before Christmas Eve, I was awoken by loud yelling outside the front door of the house. The grandmother of the family had died. This woman was in her late 80s and ill. She couldn’t walk, didn’t recognize anyone, refused to talk, and could only eat liquids. And for the past month she was living in my house so that the family could take better care of her.

Immediately upon hearing of her death, two of the daughters (Justina, the grandmother, had 11 children total) started wailing. The type of wailing that you only see in the movies or on National Geographic documentaries. I had been in my room, debating on whether I should leave them to grieve privately or I should go out and be with them. I decided at that point to go and be with the family. I walk out of my room and the granddaughters are furiously cleaning the entire house: mopping, sweeping, and emptying out all of the furniture in the living room into one of the bedrooms.

Thirty minutes after the grandmother’s death, she was in a casket in the middle of our living room and about 50 neighbors had come to visit the family. The two sisters continued crying, beating on the casket, and screaming “Why did you leave me Mama?” It was heart wrenching to watch. The family stayed awake all night as visitors continued dropping by at all hours of the early morning. Everyone told me to go to my bedroom and sleep, but there was no way that was a possibility. They were my family here in Baoba, and I wanted to show my support for them in this time; Even if I had wanted to sleep, that would have been impossible with all of the noise.

The next day was Christmas Eve, the biggest celebration of the year. The family had a pig in their backyard that they were planning on killing to eat, but now there would be no time for that. They continued grieving, and I continued sitting in silence beside them. At about noon, one of the other families that I am close to came and made me eat lunch with them at their house. So I did get to celebrate with the pork, although I was not in a festive mood. After lunch I stayed at that house and took a nap before heading back to the funeral.

Now let me explain to you how funerals (or velorios) work in this country. The person dies. Everyday for 9 days there is a religious service and visitors continue coming to see the family. The family is in charge of providing snacks and drinks to all of these visitors during the nine days. On the second day, the person is buried, so the body is no longer in the house. Once the body is buried, the family creates an altar of the dead person in their house so that visitors can continue paying their respects. So during the 9 days between Christmas Eve and New Year’s, we all just sat around in our black and white clothes and mourned the death of Justina. The two daughters were not content to simply cry; they would restart their wailing the minute a new visitor walked in the door.

On the 9th day, there is a big celebration and religious service. Which means my New Year’s Eve was spent preparing a larger alter (3 tiers) with my host family and prepping for the following day. On January 1, visitors started coming at 8 a.m. By noon, over 200 people had arrived from all over the country. Many of them had even rented out tour buses for the journey. At 12:30, all 200 people ate the lunch that the family had cooked- rice, beef, and yucca. It is amazing to me that the family whose mom just died are also in charge of feeding this crowd, but that’s tradition. At about 2 p.m. there was a Catholic mass, and at about 5 p.m., the crowd started filtering out.

And now for 3 years, the immediate family of the grandmother cannot wear the color red or use red or bright pink nail polish. They cannot drink alcohol or dance. And for the next 7 months, on the anniversary of the grandmother’s death, there will be another religious service in their home. And it was just four months ago that the grandfather of this same family died, so they’re continuing having monthly services for him as well.