by Kay Hamdan
Some situations in life can be difficult to navigate, so it’s helpful that there are conventional codes of conduct to guide you through them. Let’s call them fiats. Fiats dictate the appropriate behaviour to adopt and the correct verbal and facial expressions to use in given situations. They’re handy. If you’ve never had to deal with, say, the death of a neighbour or second cousin, you might not know how to react. Should you visit the relatives to offer condolences? Send a letter of condolence or sympathy card? Should you attend the funeral? Don’t worry – there’s a fiat that tells you exactly what to do in this situation.
Fiats are easy to learn, they save you stress and worry about whether you’re doing the right thing, and they’re acceptable. More than acceptable – they’ve become embedded in the cultural mores. They’re expected. It would cause confusion, risk offending even, if you departed from them.
In the event of a death, there’s a well-known and strictly-adhered-to fiat. Two, actually.
The first relates to the funeral. Should you attend? Did you know the deceased person well enough? Will the relatives be affronted if you don’t? Should you wear black? These decisions are out of your hands. You knew the person, therefore you will attend the funeral. And you will wear black. If you’re from the same village, you’ll attend whether you knew him or not, but the chances are you did. You’ll follow the funeral procession from the house to the burial ground, walking slowly, wearing an unutterably grim expression if you’re a man, a look of abject misery if you’re a woman, and weeping. Wailing, if you were particularly close.
The second fiat relates to post-funeral etiquette. It dictates that the close relatives – those who feel the loss most acutely – organise a wake. It gives them something to focus on other than their grief. And of course, the other mourners expect it.
For the wake, the immediate family open their house to the mourners and provide refreshments. The main food item is kibbe, if you want to impress, because it shows you’ve gone to some trouble for your guests and, let’s face it, hospitality is paramount, death or no death. The women of the household can be busy preparing kibbe for days, depending on the number of visitors expected. If you live in a village, it’ll be the whole village.
As a friend, relative or neighbour of the deceased you will visit to pay your respects sometime during the week following the funeral. You won’t inconvenience the family, they’ve prepared for visitors. You must wear a despondent expression. You’ll be invited to sit in the dimly-lit parlour with your hosts and talk about the deceased person, muttering a set of expressions dictated by the fiat, involving appeals to Allah. The women of the house will shortly get up to go to the kitchen. You may entreat to them not to go to any trouble on your account; this will be politely dismissed and refreshments will be brought in.
You will be served kibbe or baklava on an individual plate, placed on a small table beside you with a fork and napkin. And a drink – sweet black tea, fruit juice or Pepsi Cola. It’s considered polite to admonish your hosts lightly, even refuse, before accepting the refreshments, but they will assure you the food is good and press you to eat. You will reluctantly accept; on no account should you adamantly refuse.
The average visit lasts about twenty minutes, after which time you’re free to leave, confident you’ve done the right thing. Indeed, it would be inconvenient to your hosts to stay longer, and it would go against the fiat. If coffee is mentioned, this is a hint that it’s time to leave and you should do so straight away, politely dismissing any cajoling from your hosts to stay longer. If coffee is actually served, drink it immediately without protest and leave as soon as you’ve finished.
The death fiat is beneficial for all concerned.
As a distant relative or slight acquaintance, it ensures that your behaviour conforms with expectations, after which you can go on with your normal routine, knowing you’ve done enough and offended no-one.
As a close family member, it releases you from the anxiety associated with this most distressing of situations that life can throw at you. Instead of attempting to go on with your normal routine, distracted by thoughts of the person you’ve lost, until the gap he left eventually closes and you’re able to continue as before, it organises your time in the days following the death by imposing a strict regimen to follow – preparing refreshments, greeting and entertaining guests. Long enough to get you over the hump.
There’s a third fiat related to death too, little known and rarely called upon. If the dead person is not a relative, close or otherwise, or a friend or neighbour, yet occupies a more important position in your life and ranks far higher in your esteem than anyone else you know; if you come from a different village, a different country or an altogether different milieu, and have never met his relatives or close friends and doubt they even know you exist; if your material and emotional wellbeing is more closely entwined with his than they have ever been with anyone else’s; if you have no motivation to get out of bed because it seems pointless; if you fall apart when you discover a sweater hanging behind the bedroom door and bury your face in it to experience once more his distinctive smell; if you can’t conceive how life will go on henceforth, this is the fiat for you. It dictates that you stay quietly at home and allow the people familiar with the other fiats to get on with them.
Kay Hamdan is a professional translator and enthusiastic writer, poet, gardener and baker with British & Irish roots and family connections in the Arab lands of the Eastern Mediterranean. Now living on the North Lincolnshire coast, she shows up intermittently at poetry & writing events to provide unwitting entertainment for people hoping for sober discussion.
Photo by <a href=”https://stockcake.com/i/sacred-light-patterns_3089855_1567939″>Stockcake</a>
