memorial dinner, swimming

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I spent yesterday in the sun. First outside the morgue and then at the beach. Funeral services in the Orthodox Church were at 1, so the Legotkins and I got to the morgue at around 11 am. There a a number of families had gathered outside under the hot sun, each waiting to collect their loved ones. We joined them.

After a death, Russians usually keep the body at home and have the burial three days later. The heat, however, had created a high demand for the morgue's services. Outside the morgue, you could smell why. Many of the mourners-in-waiting held kerchiefs over their noses. At regulary intervals, vans would pull up to the loading dock, young men in black t-shirts would deposit the caskets, and then the family would get in. This conveyer belt moved, but slowly. It was 1:30 when the experts called on Sveta.

Forms were filled out, and after a short while a lift brought up the lilac-colored casket. Red with black trim for men, green, pink, or lilac for women. Because it was our turn, we were allowed inside for a brief visitation. The experts gave Sveta a spray bottle and instructed her to use it each time she opened the casket. Then the men in black shirts put the casket in our van.

It was past 2 by this time, and the Church service was long over. So, Sveta had the driver take us instead to her grandmother's building. We parked outside the door, Sveta went up to fetch a couple of stools which she placed on the sidewalk. Neighbors filed out as the pallbearers placed the casket on the stools and opened it. Per the experts' instructions, Sveta sprayed the body, and then stepped back.

An old woman lifted up the sheet covering the grandmother's legs, gently touching the feet and legs.

"This is what's called conferring with the dead," Sveta whispered.

It's a good idea to touch the legs of the dead. If you don't, the dead will not be at peace. Ill-at ease, the dead will come to you in your dreams, and demand to know why you neglected them. Prayers, putting up candles in church, can help in reducing these nocturnal meetings.

After a while, the casket was again temporarily closed, put back in the van, and we headed to the cemetary across the Kama River. According to some of the Perm boosters sitting next to me, it is the largest in Europe. It is big -- so big that the driver had trouble locating the grave site. After some wandering around and a few questions, we found it. The diggers arrived shortly.

The casket was opened for the final time, they body sprayed, the sheet lifted over the head, and some words said. Then Sveta's father put on the lid and hammered it shut. The diggers lowered the casket. Once it was in the grave, each of us picked up a handful of dirt, dropped it on the casket, and then stepped back to let the diggers finish the job. In a few minutes, we were back in the van.

Back at the grandmother's apartment, Sveta's Aunt Vala, cousin Seva, and friend Larissa had prepared a memorial dinner. There were meat and fish pies, chicken soup, cucumber salad, and some unknown, but delicious, fish spread for the Russian white bread. Later, the women brought out chicken with cabbage. The traditional funeral dish, an unfortuante combination of rice and raisins, was also present, but in thankfully small quantities. We had vodka for toasts. In addition Sveta's father and brother, with some help from a neighbor, emptied a bottle of cognac. I was particularly intrigued by what was in the mugs. It appeared that some jerk had put a number of rocks in each cup of tea. I found out the rocks wer actually dried apricots. "Compote," they call it. Very very sweet. A little too much for me, but everyone else drank it down. Vala had been cooking since 6 am, and it showed. We had a nice breakfast the next day.

Afterwards, cousin Seva invited Sveta and me for a swim. We were tired, but also ready to get out of there. Plus, we wouldn't have to endure the bus. I don't remember our driver's name, but I do remember him blasting out of Perm at around 90 mph. He was very good natured and an excellent volleyball player, but like so many Russians seemed to drive not so much to get from point a to point b, but to test his skills against world of rivals. So, we flew down poorly paved roads, passed everything in sight, and arrived at the Silva River while it was still light and hot. The river was not visibly dirty, and the swimming area large enough. Also, Russians dive like they drive -- with reckless abandon. Off walls, bridges, into murky water of unknown depth. After some volleyball and more apricots we rocketed back home.

Later, I was putting away the table, and Sveta stopped me. We would need it again soon. You see, nine days later we will have the second memorial dinner, and again at 40 days. The last one will be in a year.

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