Loving widows in their mourning

I didn't get this blog up yesterday, but a day late is not that bad.

We met a lady a month back at the festival of the nations. Her name is Galina. We then went and visited her at her home a couple weeks ago.  We had the sense that this lady has had a very difficult life and suffered a lot of rejection. She's a sweet old lady. That day she invited us to come with her in a couple weeks time to a memorial day.

It's not surprising that Evenki people have borrowed some Russian culture when they have lived in close contact for a long time. This is even more expected when the two women in this story both had Russian husbands.

I had no idea what to expect. I had never been to a Russian cemetery before. Melody had once.

We arrived at the bus station at around 11 am. Galina was already waiting for us and greeted us there. We weren't sure who the other lady would be, but it was another Evenki woman we had met at the festival. Her name is Nina, and her Russian husband died just six months ago. We piled into the little "Gazel" van and then hurtled down the road at break neck speeds to the town of Divnorgorsk outside of Krasnoyarsk.

Upon arriving in Divnogorsk about an hour later we found ourselves in a bus stop square surrounded by old style Russian shops. There weren't new supermarkets and fancy shiny shops here like there are in Krasnoyarsk. Divnogorsk is a sleepy town and I found myself quite liking the place and thinking it would be peaceful for the people who live there; but then the Lord reminded me that no place is peaceful without Jesus.

After buying some food for a picnic lunch, yes that's right a picnic lunch by the grave site, Galina asked me which kind of alcohol she should buy. It's customary to drink alcohol by the grave and I was hardly about to tell her what customs to practice. Should she buy, vodka, cognac or wine? Her question to me was, which would I prefer to drink? I was happy when she accepted my suggestion to buy red wine. I wasn't sure if the ladies intended to get drunk, but after the choice of wine it was fairly safe that had been avoided.

Here's our Sibirskii Kovboi taxi driver (Siberian cowboy). And he is a bit of a maverick, he's kept his little Lada Zhiguli going for 30 years, a feat that I congratulated him on.  Volodoya ferried the six of us out to the cemetery for a small fee there and back. He even waited around for free. Hey, that's what taxi drivers do in a culture that's not in a hurry.

The sad element to this story is that Nina (whose husband died six months ago) does not have any relationship to speak of with her step daughter. He husband died while Nina was up north in her Evenki home town and she could not make it back in time for his burial. Six months later, her step daughter could not be bothered showing us how to find the grave site. Galina and Nina walked around for 15 minutes or so without any success.

Try not to let your imagination be influenced by your experiences when you read this story. A Russian cemetery is worlds apart from a Canadian or Australian one. The graves are almost hiding among the forest grasses. The entire cemetery was nestled inside of the forest. Think cultural world view here. For the Russian mentality long grasses and wild flowers are beautiful and wild. They are natural, unfettered by the modern industrial world. A funeral will consist of the casket being taken to the grave in a bus or truck. The western perspective is so polished with shiny hearses and manicured lawns and flower beds at cemeteries. Life is a lot more rugged than that in Siberia.

No success in finding Petr's grave. This would have been a stark moment for Nina. But her dear friend Galina came up with a wonderful solution. "It's all the same piece of land anyway, let's remember him here by this grave site."  So Galina proceeded to plant flowers, and Nina placed the bouquet in an empty bottle by someone else's grave site. Both of their husbands were born on July 12th. Their deaths will tie these two women closely together.

It was all a very new experience for Abigail. She wanted to have fun planting flowers, and indeed she did plant one. After planting the flowers and the two women telling us about their husbands, we asked if we could pray for them. They graciously agreed. We prayed to thank God for their husbands lives and for peace for these ladies, and for them to know that the Lord loves them now. They thanked us for coming with them to remember their husbands. "Yes it is better to remember together," I agreed.

What followed our time of remembrance is again quite different from any experience of a cemetery I have ever had. Most of the grave sites have tables and chairs next to them. We used the table and chairs of another grave site. This might be considered quite rude in the west, but Russia is not nearly as individualistic as the west although it is heading in that direction. We followed the lead of Galina and Nina.

We toasted the lives of their husbands, but no clinking of glasses on such an occasion. As we drank our wine Melody remarked how it was really good that we were drinking red wine and eating bread, as this is what Jesus asked his followers to do before he died and asked them to continue until his return. Galina and Nina liked this story and they agreed that it was a good idea.

Melody tells me that the last time she accompanied Russians to a cemetery they poured vodka on the ground. Yesterday, Nina left some lollies behind next to a grave. My guess is these things are left for the spirits of the departed. These are pagan concepts to be sure.

Such a simple thing of accompanying these women to a cemetery was a huge blessing to them. It was one big cultural adventure for us. It reminded us that the gospel is for the humble to receive. Widows and orphans are chief among these people as James taught. It matters not where things lead, this is many ways is the destination.