Life and death of the villages

My return to the Waangleng village coincided with a ritual known as Daazaai. This is a Daoist ritual that summons the soul of the deceased, cries for them, brings the soul through to the underworld, then pays tribute and sends useful items to them. The soul in question was my grandfather-in-law who passed away last year in July. I was a bit surprised that such a ritual would be done over a year after a death, and didn’t ask whether a soul would linger so long for this ceremony. When I spoke to an out-of-town friend I learned that even he thought it was unusual to wait so long, but he was an urbanite and the ways of the village can be quite different between regions, and even within regions.

In the past 18 months, the Chinese villages who shape the family have lost our 99-year old great-grandfather (Aa-Gung), a paternal uncle (Daai Guzoeng), a maternal third uncle (Saam Kaufu) and a great uncle (Aa-Baak) who was a frequent visitor to the living room and others. Most of these bereavements happened in my absence from China but being remote made me very sad, not just for their passing as I knew these men and they knew me and that they were a part of my Chinese life, but also because they were a part of the life of the communities. 

Aa-Gung in particular was an amazing presence who I have already spoken about in a previous blog. But Daai Guzoeng was also a remarkable figure. We’d been to his home in the neighbouring village many times. He seemed an elder who chose his words carefully and meaningfully, just like Aa-Gung. When we visited last year before his passing, even in a barely conscious state, he recognised me. Village-style, he spent his final days at home.

Saam Kaufu, third uncle, was the older brother of my wife’s mother. He had battled with cancer for many years and while the cancer wasn’t what took him, the battles with it weakened him to the point that it was probably only a matter of time. I was close to his brother fourth uncle who was immediately open to talking to this weird foreigner. Saam Kaufu for quite a few years didn’t really know what to say to me or how to look at me, but by the end was very relaxed and we could talk. He was also a village producer of some really good, really potent baijiu, even though he himself was teetotal. Just like Daai Guzoeng, he too spent his final days at home. 

Aa-Baak was a good character. In the village where it’s quiet so often to have someone just “pop in” for a chinwag is essential. He was that guy. He often went barefoot, which was a bit rare, and a bit like Fourth Uncle, never hesitated to talk to me. His death was out of the blue – maybe because he didn’t want to talk about his unwellness. 

Driving down the roads of the villages at night you might be struck by how many homes do not have the lights on, that is, they are no longer inhabited. But the Daazaai ritual brought out the clan in force. The ritual itself was an overnighter; people started appearing in the early afternoon; things started in the evening and went throughout the night till sunrise. Almost all of the clan came and a lot of the associated family members, too. I finally put a face to quite a few names that I had heard so often. The village once again appeared the centre of culture and bustle.