Pema Lama

Yesterday a young boy died in our village. His name was Pema Lama. He was 12 years old. Words cannot describe the sadness that has swept over our home and the village. He was a sweet, affectionate boy that we had all come to know and love.  We met him several months ago when doing a door to door survey. We met his grandmother, who is a generous and loving woman. As she told us the story of her grandson, it was hard to not sympathize with his situation. He was abandoned by both of his parents when he was only 10 months old. Both his parents remarried and began new families, neither of which included him. He would go to his neighbors and ask them where his mother was, and they would respond with silence, uncomfortable with the question knowing no good could come from the answer. While he was 12 years old, he was only in second grade. He faced difficulty in school and had been unable to move ahead in his studies. But he was blessed with the love of his two grandparents who had raised him as their own.

            As we continued our visits in the village, Pema decided to tag along. As I sat and listened to the woman speak, not knowing what was going on, I was distracted by Pema’s desire to play with me. As the Nepali volunteers continued the interview I played thumb war and rock, paper, scissors, with Pema. It was clear he was desperate for attention, but with his huge vibrant smile, it was hard not to give it to him.

            Earlier today I was told that a 6 year old boy had died by accident eating poison of some kind.  While the news was upsetting the story was incomplete so it as hard to fully comprehend the situation. That afternoon the information changed. I was now told that it was a 6^th grader who had died and that is had been a suicide. Immediately I thought of all the children in my youth group.  But we were still not provided with a name nor were we sure that this information was more accurate then the previous. When we reached the school to meet with our youth group we learned the truth behind the mysterious rumors. That it was Pema Lama. We learned that he had eaten rat poison that had been bought several days prior. Whether it was a suicide or a mistake, no one was sure. The teachers informed us that the school would be closed the following day in order to give the children a day to mourn and have an opportunity to go to the burning ceremony.

            Today we spent the day at Pema's house observing the death ceremony. While the ceremony was sad and painful to go to, it was also beautiful. When we arrived at the grandmothers house the ceremony had already begun. The body lay inside the house where the Buddhist monks chanted and prayed. I couldn’t bring myself to go inside and see the body. The idea of seeing a 12 year old boy lying dead on the floor was to much to bare.  While I sat outside with the rest of the mourners I noticed the big shrine like structure that sat in the center. It looked like a small house draped in flowers.  Soon after arriving the monks came out of the house with Pema’s body wrapped in a white sheet. They circled around the small house several times before placing the body in the structure itself. As they circled around the structure the grandmother went into a sort of fit. She was hysterical and flailing her arms. It was impossible not to feel her pain. Her tantrum became so extreme that she fainted. While the women gathered around her to carry her inside, the ceremony continued without missing a beat. 

While you could not see the body, you could tell that it was folded in half so that it was sitting in the structure upright. Once the body was in place the monks surrounded the structure drumming on their instruments and singing their chants. This went on for over an hour. It is believed that at the end of this ceremony that the spirit is released into heaven, and therefore the body is now empty.

            Suddenly the community brought out a long thin white sheet. The sheet was tied to the bottom of the structure and then one by one women began taking the sheet in a long trail in front of the body. The sheet was at least 100 meters long with the entire community underneath raising the long white trail above their heads. The small house followed the white sheet being carried by for men. The long line of people walked up the mountain to center of town. Here is where the body was burned.  

            When we had returned from the ceremony an ease had come over us. While it had been a painful day, the ceremony truly allowed people to get closure and say goodbye. We spent the rest of the afternoon cooking a beautiful meal together and telling our personal stories about Pema.

He was a beautiful boy, and he will be remembered.