Wat Jic Ra Ka

Wat Jic Ra Ka is a special place for me. It is not the first wat (Buddhist Temple) I've been to, I've visited several on my last trip to Thailand and while in China. Most of those wats were beautiful pieces of architecture on the peak of a mountain. Tourists and natives travel to these wats and make a merit (an important Buddhist practice), but based on my observations the monks were their only regular worshipers.

Wat Jic Ra Ka is a small temple serving the community of Jic Ra Ka, the small rice farming community I lived in during Pre Service Training (you can read about my PST experience here). The wat is central to the community. It is right across the street from the elementary school. It was often the source of traditional Thai music that woke me up at 6am. It is where my host mom takes a morning off from rice farming once a week to recognize wan pra, monk day. It was where my host mom's eldest son studied as a monk for three months (a rite of passage for Thai men), close to home so that she could bring him his favorite foods. It is where my host mom's younger son, Check will study if he decides to be a monk. It is where families go to celebrate Buddhist holidays. It is where families go to celebrate the lives of their loved ones who have already passed.

It is where I experienced my first Thai funeral. During PST we learned about funerals, monk ordinations, and weddings. Peace Corps staff encouraged our host families to bring us to these events to learn more and integrate.

Selfie of myself and Poo Yai Ban, Meow, at my first Thai funeral

Florescent lights line the drive to the wat and traditional Thai music blasts from large speakers. I walk in with the Poo Yai Ban, the village head person, and we kick off our shoes at the entrance. Most people are wearing black, but its not like the black dress pants and dress shirt I'm wearing. It's a random black T-shirt and jeans, or perhaps a bedazzled Minnie Mouse dress that's mostly black. I sit with the Poo Yai Ban, cousin and neighbor of my host family, in plastic blue chairs while family members of the deceased hand out cups of water. Family members and those close to the deceased walk up to an "alter" area where a casket, bouquets, and photo of the deceased are displayed. They light some incense, kneel, and respectfully bow before placing the incense in a jar of sand. The wat is covered in brightly colored blankets in discrete plastic bags and on display, because bringing the family a blanket is much more useful than bringing them flowers.

The music stops as the monks walk onto their raised platform and kneel and bow to the Buddha image. The rest of us "lay" people wai them at their entrance, and for the most part do not stop wai-ing until the service is over. There is chanting from the head monk. Family members and local leaders are invited to the platform to offer gifts to the monks, often a new set of bright orange monk robes. Poo Yai Ban Meow walks up to the front with others. When she returns there is more chanting and the occasional head bow.

When the service ends, about an hour after it began, the the monks stand up and leave. There is a rustle in the wat as people relax and begin to move about. The family brings out more water hot bowls of noddle soup for the guest to enjoy. When our bowls are empty Meow and I walk back to the entrance and slip on our shoes. The family removes our plastic chairs and begin to lay down bedding on the wat floor. They will sleep here tonight. They will sleep here every night of the funeral which can last several days or weeks depending on status. The 2016 passing of the Thai King included a year of mourning followed by a 5 day royal cremation ceremony.

My host grandfather weaving a hammock.

During PST I went to this wat several times to attend a funeral. Near the end of PST I went to the wat to attend a funeral with the family. My host grandfather, was diagnosed with cancer a few months before I arrived in Thailand in January 2018. When I moved moved in with this family he was quite active, weaving hammocks and walking around, and making a strong effort to communicate with me, even though my Thai was very poor. By the end of my nearly three month stay with this family however, he was confined to his bed. His loving wife spoon fed him, gave him sponge baths, and emptied his bladder flask.

On my last weekend before moving to Uttaradit, I was packing up my bedroom, and hoping to play some video games with Check later. Several neighbors came over and were sitting around the living room, chatting with my host grandfather and the rest of the family. I came out and joined in the conversation, as much as I could, briefly before returning to my room to pack. I came out again and saw Check and my mom jump into an ambulance before it rolled away. I was home alone but wasn't too worried, as I had a lot of work to do and my host grandfather had spent four or five days in the hospital a few weeks ago. I was hanging up my laundry to dry when on of the neighbored opened the gate to my family's property. He came to collect some paperwork for my host mom. And tell me that my host grandfather had passed.

Wai-ing at my host grandfathers casket.

This was hard. I wanted to help my host family, but I didn't know how. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. And I was leaving the next day. I called Kun Rumpai, the director of PST. She came immediately to my home and comforted me. She called my host mom to talk about logistic details and told me that Thai families appreciate people just being there and saying I'm sad too, "Chan sia-jai duai."

Kun Rumpai accompanied my to the funeral that night where I was honored to be asked to go up with the family to offer gifts to the monks. Afterwards things seemed really light. People were cooking food, laughing, kids were running around. That night my host family slept at the wat, while I slept at home with some of the extended family.

The next day the family ate breakfast at the wat and held a ceremony. This was the heavy part. They removed my host grandfather from his casket and laid him on a table with his right hand cupped and extended out to the right. The funeral service workers had prepared a large bowl of water filled with aromatic flower petals. One by one close family and friends scooped water out with a small metal bowl and poured it into his had. An act of honor and sin cleansing. Everybody was crying. I tried to comfort my host brother as best I could. I did not see my host mom or grandmother cry, I think they were trying to be strong for the family.

While the rest of the volunteers were moved to a hotel to await the arrival of their new counterparts from across Thailand, Peace Corps let me attend the second night of the funeral. It was here at Wat Jic Ra Ka that I said my final goodbyes to my host family before leaving for Uttaradit. A final goodbye. Before we meet again.

Return to With Love homepage