Unfortunately one of the old boys in my neighbourhood died a few days ago. I knew something was up when an unusual number of other old boys, and a few youngish ones, gathered around the plastic chairs they daily haul out onto the footpath in order to keep watch on the street and ensure the gossip machine is well fueled. In some ways this is quite reassuring as we have builders, aka thieves, living on the street (they live in whatever premises they are constructing). It seems to escape this informal neighbourhood watch committee that there are guards at every house but in reality, the old boys are probably far more of a deterrent to crime than the guards, who may in fact be thieving themselves. And you can be sure that no one misses out on being a topic of discussion. I can see it now: "That foreign teacher at number xx not come home until 10.30 last night. Maybe she finally get a boyfriend. No husband, no kids, so sad. Maid said she sick last week. No one to stay with her. No good. But no wonder she no husband, she yell to motodop driver, 'no I don't want any fxxxxxxg drugs!' motodop driver maybe good husband, she never know now...so sad"
Getting back to the funeral, we are now into day three of poorly recorded plinkey-plunkey cacophony pouring forth from loud speakers. Just to complete the awfulness of it, there is no rhythm or pattern so as to to confuse the ghosts that are hanging around in order to confuse the dear departing spirit. Why it takes days to depart, I don't know but they are really very slow at getting a move on to the afterlife compared to the Western dead. Also, the richer the person, the longer these things go on for so it seems that rich people are too strongly attached to their worldly goods and experience. They really should be made to have shorter funerals to force the spirit to get a move on. If it moved faster then the ghosts wouldn't have time to get up to their tricks and the relatives would be spared the expense of a long funeral where they have to feed and house all the rellies and anyone who drops by.
Oh and then there are the dogs. The neighbourhood dogs have had a couple of trips to the funeral tent where they are encouraged to bark their heads off - as if they don't do enough of that already. Dogs bark at ghosts, don't you know? Try suggesting that they are only barking at the rats scavenging for food scraps from the food preparation tent and people will think you're mad.
You can imagine what this is doing to my delicate Hashi balance. Muscle spasms, pain, nightmares and urges to do sudden violence have over taken my life. I ransacked my apartment looking for my one pair of emergency ear plugs, which I eventually found in my sewing kit (go figure). They reduce the volume but not the irritating randomness of it all. OK, now they have switched to tuneless chanting via loudspeakers, of course. It has all the charm of a North Korean public address. If this dead guy doesn't get a move on soon, he may be joined by a few of his rellies and old boys. But OH NO, then there would be more funerals...
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