Thai/Khmer/Lao etc., traditions and customs are as varied as those of any other countries I suppose, but the ones that deal with death and the respecting of the long-dead here can be a little morbid to sat the least.
During the last few days, we've attended no fewer than five funerals, one repeat blessing for someone's home, and today's respect for the dead. My wife will attend another funeral this evening. I confess to having the occasional thought that those who have passed on might have appreciated the same degree of respect for them while they were alive...
Yesterday's funeral included the ceremonial washing of the dead person's hand by attendees. Once that part was concluded, the workers involved completed the wrapping of the body in sheets. The decorative coffin was then opened, a long metal tray removed from it and laid next to the body. "Helpers" then raised the body and slid the tray beneath it. The body was then lifted over their heads and slid inside the coffin. Apart from the washing, the remaining actions described above were carried out with about as much respect for the deceased as if dishes were being stuffed into a cupboard, with mourners laughing and chatting, and with many if not most of them studying their mobile phones.
This departure from Western custom seems more than just a little macabre, and the funeral will continue tonight and on until the day of the cremation, to be followed 100 days after the death and again on the anniversary, by more "respect." I daresay that the family of the dead will be respecting him and his predecessors with the customary glasses of spirits, beer, water, red and green sodas, dead meat, fruit and other offerings... Meanwhile, the house is now full of incense smoke, and my facemask is being out to good use, trapping some of the smoke (and my bad thoughts about the whole process.)
As usual, my wife invited me to call up my forefathers in order for them to share in today's bounty. I really don't want to give offence to those who believe in this facet of local customs, but as I'm not a strong believer in this type of ceremony, I merely stood in front of the makeshift display and contemplated that annual mystery to me of what happens to the produce on offer to the departed. I can imagine Nomad wincing at the thought of my precious Bells sitting there with incense ash drifting down into the half-full glass.
The things we do to please our hosts, eh?