Via Inquirer.net in the Philippines: Safety tips for people going to cemeteries. Excerpt:
Bring food that will not spoil easily. Carry an umbrella not only for protection from the sun or a sudden downpour but also from the stray dogs that roam the cemetery.
These were among the tips given by the Department of Health (DOH) to the millions of Filipinos who would be trooping to cemeteries to mark All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day.
Dr. Eric Tayag, head of the DOH National Epidemiology Center, said people should avoid taking their babies or children to the resting places of their loved ones as they would be vulnerable to diseases in hot and congested conditions.
The report goes on to list the potential threats, like diarrhea and leptospirosis.
In Mexico, my parents, brothers and I sometimes went to the cemeteries on November 1 to witness the Day of the Dead (as it's called there). Families would picnic on their ancestors' tombs, and it was a colourful event. November 2 was the Day of the Dead Children. (I well recall many funerals where Papá easily carried his child's little white coffin on his shoulder.)
It didn't even cross our minds that we might risk getting sick by a visit to the cemetery. We never drank the tap water, or bought food from street vendors, but mosquito bites were just routine. (In one house, I roomed with a scorpion. We were taught to bang our shoes on the floor before we put them on in the morning.)
And we learned to appreciate,if not enjoy, the Mexican intimacy with death: we went to the bullfights on Sundays, and saw the embalmed arm of a famous president, and the exhumed mummified corpses in the Guanajuato cemetery. In the autumn, you could go into the local bakeries and buy a skull made of sugar, with your name written in frosting across its forehead. (Well, not if your name was Crawford.)
Given the horrendous war now going on in Mexico between the government and the narcotraficantes, the Mexican flirtation with death may be wearing thin.
But they and many other cultures probably have a healthier attitude toward death than North Americans and Europeans do. In our culture, death is something awkward and embarrassing, consigned to hospitals and hospices. When we die, it's a kind of faux pas, leaving our friends and colleagues with nothing to do but tell the bereaved how desolated we are—so the bereaved have to console us for how bad we feel.
Apart from being an attitude only a deeply protected culture can afford, our attitude will make the next major pandemic harder on us than on the Third World countries we now patronize.
We elders already understand that losing our contemporaries is the biggest hazard of long life. But even we, unlike the Haitians and Pakistanis and Indonesians, are not prepared to help bury our grandchildren.
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