In a similar vein to Mexico’s Festival of the Dead, the bone turning ceremonies in Madagascar honour the ancestors in a celebration where laughing and weeping are both perfectly normal.
Madagascar: bone turning ceremony
Just south of the capital is the colourful little town of Antsirabe, where the ruling Merina tribe also live. Patric Niaina owns an intricately painted rickshaw there, and ferries locals around in his hand-drawn taxi. But, today he’s taken the day off work and donned his smartest outfit for a trip into the hills just outside of town. It’s a big day for him. His family is holding an auspicious bone-turning ceremony to honour their ancestors, and Patric is not missing it for anything.
With Patric navigating, we wind along well worn sand roads, through the mountains but see absolutely no sign of a ceremony. Then as we round a corner, there is a heaving gathering of people on the hillside. The national flag is being held high and people are milling around energetically. “That’s the famadihana,” says Patric, “it has already started.”
It’s a hot, dusty afternoon, and we arrive to a cacophony of music, singing and raucous revelry. Rice and rum are everywhere, being served from little stalls under rainbow umbrellas. We are quickly enfolded in dust and fresh rum fumes, and are definitely the only sober guests there. But, in a bid to change that, we are quickly handed a bottle of rum for an obligatory swig. It tastes like swallowing razor blades, but this is the traditional brew of Madagascar, and there is no way around it today.
Madagascar: bone turning ritual
The tomb has already been opened and the crowd mills around the entrance, some weeping, others laughing, some seemingly indifferent to the magnitude of the occasion. A family will save for five to 10 years to be able to afford such a ceremony, because it entails mountains of rice and plenty of rum, as well as new shrouds, gifts and the prized zebu cattle that are slaughtered as part of the ritual.
First one skeletal mummy is carried out of the tomb, rolled in a hand-woven grass mat and held high above the surrounding crowd. Then another and another emerges, until five family members are lying side by side on the grass – their heads facing east. Some of the living family draw near to tell the latest news and happenings in the village, others ask for advice, and still others stand in silence and simply watch the proceedings.
Not wanting to impose, we keep moving back in the crowd, but are constantly yanked forwards to be a part of the ceremony and to see exactly what is going on. It’s difficult to hear what is being said, amidst all the singing and chanting, laughing and crying – and liberal swigging of rum from bottles being passed through the crowd. But we respectfully oblige and stand with the family.
Then the mats are gently unrolled by chosen family members, and each mummy is wrapped in a new white shroud to cover the old one. All the time, the family continues talking to their dead ancestors as if they were perfectly alive and part of the party. It is an almost surreal experience for western eyes, but one we will never forget. The Malagasy reverence and respect for their ancestors is deep and real.
Madagascar: wrapping mummies
Patric stands with us, rum in hand and watches as intently as we do. “This is a big day for the family,” he says sipping his neat rum, “and it is very special that you are here. It is a blessing and good luck for us.” Then, an elder places a small gift on the chest of each mummy and inscribes their name on the shroud – in felt tip marker pen. A new straw hat and a photograph of each ancestor are also placed on their chests. In between proceedings, a childless woman tears a tiny piece of shroud to place under her pillow in the hope of bearing children, and another lovingly strokes the skeletal remains of her grandmother.
Then after more rum, and with plenty of dancing and singing, the crowd gives the ancestors a jovial send off – back into the cool tomb. It will be a good few years before the family will host another bone turning ceremony, but they start saving for it immediately.
While the Merina and Betsileo tribes are the only ones to practice bone-turning ceremonies in Madagascar, each of the 18 tribes on the island have rituals to honour the dead. Because, for the Malagasy, death is the most important part of life and the dead have far more power than the living.
With the mummies all safely back in the family tomb, celebrations start winding down. It’s been three days of full throttle revelry for the crowd, and they are growing weary. Rum fumes still permeate the air, as the last guests settle down to enjoy bowls of rice. Patric has settled in with his family and we afford him privacy and head back to Antsirabe. But first, we respectfully thank him for allowing us to attend this personal ritual, and hand him a bottle of rum as a traditional gift. “Thank you,” he says, “the honour was all mine.” And with a rum-soaked smile, he screws off the cap and takes a long swig.
