Haiti: death care during catastrophes
January 15, 2010
A CNN “developing story” today described the cemetery and funeral crisis that is accompanying the Haiti disaster. Just two days after the earthquake there is insufficient space in cemeteries to bury the casualties, no time for real funerals, and not even enough coffins to put the bodies in. The desperation on the faces of survivors waiting in long lines to get their loved one’s body into the cemetery, who have to bribe officials for even the most wretched space to bury the body or who are forced to bury them unmarked in a field or watch them disappear in a mass cremation - this is heart-wrenching even beyond the tragedy of the deaths themselves. For not only are loved ones suddenly dead, there is not even the possibility of a dignified and loving farewell for them.
These tragic images should not only awaken our compassion - they should also be reminders that death is not always as manageable as we experience in our relatively peaceful and organized world. The “thronging in the lifeboats” has become completely foreign to us in our protected world. But by watching what happens in Haiti, we can get a preview of how it will be when a similar catastrophe strikes one of our cities. For we are naive if we think that we will be spared similar trials - in the long term, nature makes no favourites.
"Thronging in the life-raft" - what happens to death care during catastrophes?
We are equally naive if we think we will be able to manage our catastrophes much better. Sure, we have far superior infrastructures and disaster responses. But when the earth shakes violently enough, or when the wind blows strongly enough, we will be in the position of the Haitians today. Then not only will our life-infrastructure be handicapped, but that which takes care of death will be equally overwhelmed.
When a society is unprepared, then when the worst comes, which it always does in the end, it must scramble desperately to deal with the practical and spiritual consequences.
Like in Haiti, a similar disaster in San Francisco or New York or London or even a smaller metropolis will create an acute burial space crisis. Farmers’ fields, parks and wildlands near the cities will be appropriated for burials. If the disaster is bad enough, anonymous mass cremation will be the only choice to avoid contagions. There will be no time for meaningful funerals, for erecting a worthy memorial, perhaps even for recording where a body has been laid to rest.
What we see in Haiti should be a wake-up call to us to prepare ourselves now, as best we can, to deal with the mortalities of catastrophes. So that when they come, we can treat our dead in a half-way decent manner.
By locating and preparing enough suitable land for cemeteries in advance, we can avoid a good part of the indignity and the unnecessary additional tragedy that results when death care is forced to become a desperate, purely hygienic matter. By prepared the right kind of land, we can also save precious farmland and wilderness from being used for burials.
Hopefully we will be spared these mass catastrophes - but even then, such preparation can only help us for the inevitable rise in deaths which demographics is bringing our way in the next 3 or 4 decades.
All the more reason to move forward with Perpetua’s Garden now.
Culture vs Nature in cemeteries
November 5, 2009
If I have one gripe with many green and woodland cemeteries it is that they don’t think deeply enough about the consequences to humans and human culture of making cemeteries more “natural”. This regards above all finding a place for enduring memorials in natural cemeteries.
This morning I came across an interesting story from the UK, in which the same conflict emerges in another aspect: http://www.midweekherald.co.uk/midweekherald/news/story.aspx?brand=MDWOnline&category=news&tBrand=devon24&tCategory=newsmdw&itemid=DEED03%20Nov%202009%2012%3A32%3A44%3A790
For the time-pressed (or if the link expires), the story essentially concerns the conflicts between mourners in a woodland cemetery and the deer that wander in and quite naturally eat the fresh flowers laid on burial sites. As a woodland cemetery, it is a good sign that the deer like to visit. But what happens when they eat all the natural flowers so that, paradoxically, all that remain are the artificial ones?
This simple example illustrates well the possible conflicts between nature and culture that can only become more evident as woodland and other “green” cemeteries multiply. I find nothing wrong with more natural cemeteries - on the contrary, Perpetua’s Garden aims to be just that. But people need to be clear that natural cemeteries set different boundaries between nature and culture than conventional cemeteries and the consequences need to be accepted. When a cemetery is intended to be a closer part of nature, it is only logical that situations like the above happen.
The issue of the flowers can be extended to memorials and in general to all that is human (ie cultural) in the cemetery. We want a cemetery that blends into and is friendly to nature - this means that we must accept that the human cultural aspect is curbed: that the flowers get eaten (or we use artificial ones) and that the stone memorial is forbidden. That flowers get eaten and must be replaced is a small concession to nature’s cause which we can easily accept; but not being allowed any kind of enduring memorial means the line has been drawn too far on the side of nature and human culture has lost its place altogether in the cemetery. The disappearance of the flowers upsets the direct descendents of the deceased - the absence of personalized, enduring memorials may not be noticed until later, when nature has naturally taken back its domain and no signs remains whatsoever, not even where the body rests. Then it is too late and human culture as a whole suffers.
Where does nature’s place end and culture’s begin, where do we draw the line, what are our priorities and what compromises must we make? Ideally we think about these things in advance and do not have to learn only by our mistakes. Perpetua’s Garden also sets this question as one of its tasks.