My son who lives in Melbourne in Australia in February last year said “hey Dad for a change let’s all meet in Bali for Christmas”  

So in December my wife, Liz and I flew 8,169 miles, 22 hours to arrive in Bali for Christmas

Stepping off our plane into temperatures of 34 feeling like 42 degrees with 86% humidity, wow, what a difference it felt having left Beverley 24 hours earlier at -1 degree

After a harrowing taxi drive from the airport were motorcyclists sometimes with one, two three or four passengers on board, along with cars weaving in and out of traffic, moving into gaps that seemed to open up miraculously

The rainy season had arrived with dark foreboding skies, flashes of lightning and the rumble of thunder, followed by a deluge of rain which seemed to help reduce the oppressive heat

A few days before Christmas my son asked if I’m minded getting up early in the morning as my Christmas present was half a day with a professional photographer

Boxing Day at 5:30 AM I met up with Nyoman who was my guide for the morning, and onto our first stop, with me standing on a rice terrace watching the sunrise overlooking the volcanic mountain of Gunung Agung, the island’s highest peak and most sacred volcano

Our next stop was the local market at Tampaksiring, to do some people watching

I took this image of a couple in the market and it wasn’t until I downloaded it onto my laptop, did I then notice the ladies hat

Brian Johnson the lead singer of AC/DC the heavy metal rock group, might be surprised at the age demo graph of his fans

My final stop was to see Ulu Petanu Waterfalls deep in the jungle

And that was the end of my photographic journey in Bali.    

Or so I thought

Then, Nyoman asked “would I like to go to his Aunties funeral” which threw me a bit of a curveball.

He explained that I would be made very welcome by his family and that I would never ever see a funeral like this in my lifetime and that he highly recommend that I should attend.

And a great opportunity to take some great images, so I texted my wife to say “sorry, running late, I am at a funeral, don’t ask, see you later”

Well in for a penny in for a pound, I agreed and we drove to his family village were aunty “lived” and parked the car.

So, here was I, a European wearing a off white long sleeve T-shirt and blue shorts, not quite the normal attire to go to a funeral in.

So Nyoman went to boot of his car and produced for both of us a traditional Kamen which is a long piece of cloth, similar to a sarong, which he wrapped around my waist and covered my legs down to the ankles. The kamen is then wrapped from left to right for men, symbolizing the preservation of truth

Then he placed a traditional headcloth tied with a knot in the middle of the forehead, symbolizing spiritual focus and balance of good and evil.

I don’t think I really looked the part, but what the heck.

In Bali, funerals are known as Ngaben, a sacred Hindu ritual where the body is cremated to release the soul from worldly bonds, enabling it to reincarnate or achieve spiritual liberation.

Unlike sombre Western funerals, the elaborate Balinese ritual involves colourful processions with ornate towers carrying the body to the cremation site where it’s burned in an animal-shaped sarcophagus to purify it with fire, followed by scattering ashes in the sea for water purification, creating a festive spectacle of music, chanting, and community gathering. 

Walking down the main street and already villagers had started to congregate at the roadside and you couldn’t help noticing that the clothes the male and female mourners we’re wearing all matched and was paid and supplied by the family

Looking up at this twenty metre high pagoda and five metre high bull and glancing down the street you couldn’t help but see telephone and electrical cables crisscrossing the road that would surely be in the way

On pointing this out, Nyoman said no problem they’ll all be cut prior to the procession starting and the electricity board and the telephone company would come sometime that afternoon to reconnect them all

The only problem he foresaw was that with the cutting off the electric a number of homes had Koi Carp in ponds and they wouldn’t be getting any oxygen that afternoon

The time now was 12pm and the funeral was going to start at 2 so I thought we would have just to wait on the roadside for things to start

But no, follow me said Nyoman, let’s go and meet his family

Hundreds of family and friends were congregated at the family home as we walked into the main outdoor space and I looked to a raised platform and I was a bit surprised to see Auntie in her sarcophagus which was in pride of place for everybody to see

I was introduced to aunties, uncles and friends of the family, all of them made me feel very welcome

Coffee, sandwiches, small cakes and sweetmeats were produced for me as I sat watching family and friends gather to say a final goodbye and offer prayers for the deceased’s safe ascension into heaven

Catching the eyes of the grandchildren, nephews and nieces showing them my camera and with sign language asking if I could take their photographs

Some were reluctant to start with but the occasional child got enough courage to stand near me to have an image taken and having shown it to him or her, with a giggle and a smile they encouraged others to have their photographs taken as well

As the start time got closer Nyoman suggested that we get in front of the procession to take some hopefully great images and as we walked up to the street where the pagoda and the bull stood proudly we saw men dressed in white getting ready to welcome Auntie by tapping long sticks to ward away evil spirits and chatting incantations

Then the grieving family carried Auntie in her sarcophagus up the bamboo ramp and placed her inside the pagoda

Accompanying the procession is gamelan music and singing by young women also dressed in white started as they make their way to the kuburan, or cremation grounds.

Leading the procession was the youngest grandson carried on the shoulders of ten men

Likewise followed by the youngest granddaughter

Then came the offerings to the gods

With other grandchildren carrying a picture of their Grandma

I needn’t have worried about taking photographs because this was such a unique event everyone was taking photos and they had even contracted five professional drone operators to catch every moment of the funeral

One of the traditions includes rotating the corpse three times if they cross a major road. This confuses the denizens of the lower realms who are trying to steal the dead person’s soul.

Whilst this procession was slowly getting to the final place to cremate the body, the noise from the singing, the drums of the band plus the thousand family, friends and mourners shouting and wailing and little me watching in awe, out shone the other five funerals that where taking place at the same time with only between ten to twenty mourners

As the body was moved from the pagoda into the bull and the funeral pyre was built to cremate auntie along with the pagoda and the ramp I felt it was time for us to leave as I didn’t want to see the flame engulf this funeral pyre

So I will leave you with the image I took when I got back to my accommodation as an end to such a memorable day

I hope you found these images and stories as fascinating as I did watching it as it happened

Jonathan Hall