The Tragedy of Loss
The Mojave Funeral in Covid-19
By Chiara Nonni
The Great Spirit was burned. The creator of the Mojave Indian Tribe, Matavilya, told his son to cremate him upon his death. His body was burned by Spirit Mountain in present day Nevada, along the Colorado River, another one of his creations.
When a death occurs in the Mojave Tribe, the community gathers at the cry house. They weep, sing, dance, reflect and mourn all night, preparing the spirit of the deceased for the next life. They tell stories, making sure to describe details from the life of the dead with clarity and nuance. It is the last time the tribe can say their name, lest the spirit become distracted from its journey. As the sun rises, they march with the body to the cremation site along the river. The possessions of the deceased are placed onto the pyre with contributions from the community that may be useful to have during the voyage. The smoke curls, aglow with early morning pastels, and the spirit is released from its earthly obstructions.
We have become a country of mourners.
In this terrifying year, the world has become better acquainted with death. The United States alone has suffered a loss of 250,000 deaths from Covid-19. We have become a country of mourners.
But how does one mourn in the age of pandemic? Loss of a loved one may feel personal, but it effects families, communities and livelihoods. Funerals have turned to clinical affairs with limited attendees, careful not to touch one another or get to close for fear of the virus.
Though the absence of funerals on a large scale is tragic, the Mojave Indian Tribe feels more agony over this loss than most.
Cremation before Covid-19
“It’s almost like you feel empty,” Fort Mojave Indian Tribe Chairman Timothy Williams tells me. His people's reservation straddles the Colorado River at the junction of Arizona, Nevada and California. “That’s one of our most sacred traditions is our funerals. And when somebody passes away over here, the families immediately come together. There is a lot of consoling, comforting the family, sharing food. You know, hugging, shaking hands.”
The Mojave (also spelled Mohave) have practiced their traditional funeral customs for centuries. The first written account of the Mojave was from Spanish colonist Juan de Oñate in 1604, but Matavilya’s story predates these records. The Los Angeles Herald published an article in 1899 detailing aspects of Mojave funeral traditions:
“We found the mourners gathered under and around an open shed, which was framed with willow and covered with arrow weed. The corpse lay, wrapped in a white garment, on the ground in the center of the group. Most of the Indians present were crying aloud or talking in wailing tones. One of the local chiefs talked continuously in a loud voice, using his eloquence, not to console the mourners but to augment their grief.”
Author Kellen Cutsforth writes about the Mojave cremation customs in his work "When Mojaves Mourned, Souls Soared as Bodies Burned." Cutsforth states that, “Historians who have studied Mojave oral history have suggested the practice was instituted some centuries ago after a plague or contagion swept through the tribe.”
“We still need to sing the songs to make sure that they make their journey,” says Chairman Williams of the spirits of the deceased. “We still need to cremate in our traditional way. We still cremate here at Fort Mojave in the traditional ways, we are one of the only tribes that do that.”
The restrictions on gathering have caused deep pain among the tribe. Three elders have passed since March 2020 and without the proper ability to mourn, their families fear for their spiritual journey, says Chairman Williams.
In the meantime, the Tribal Council has created an interim cremation site for immediate family members of the deceased. Numbers must be kept to a minimum. There is no hugging, no shaking of hands. It is a hurried ceremony that takes place outdoors, still close to the river. Some parts look the same, but the emotions are very different.
Though the pandemic has caused heartbreak to the tribe, they are hopeful that their funeral customs can continue once a vaccine has been approved.
"We still need to sing the songs to make sure that they make their journey. We still need to cremate in our traditional way."
The added significance of the Mojave journey after death makes resuming their traditional rituals all the more important.
Death is a means of reconfirming the significance of life to the Mojave. Existence is cyclical. Dreams are of the utmost importance, the most meaningful of which being those that occur before life begins, when the ancestors impart wisdom. The death of a member of the Mojave Tribe has always been treated with great care. The spirit must make its journey unencumbered by earthly distractions. The tradition is of incredible importance to the tribe to this day, calling together family, community, and history.
Within the cry house, the body is traditionally covered in a white sheet while the ceremony takes place. It is the last opportunity to tell stories of the departed and the stories are told with great detail. People need to be able to talk and discuss the dead to ensure they do not do so in the future, as that can result in the soul being trapped on earth, dooming it to a ghostly existence.
The dancing, singing, grieving, storytelling and use of the cry house are still revered today, though the custom looks a little different in modern times.
"Our department would actually kind of help out with the service, meaning that we would use our PA sand get the music and usually do a little program of sorts for the family," said Gentry Medrano, the Director of the Public Relations Department for the Fort Mojave Indian Tribe. “So that was all pretty normal standard operating procedure prior to Covid.” Medrano helps plan the funerals for members of the tribe and stresses the importance of the cry house and cremation ceremonies.
“Most services are usually these large events,” she tells me. “I don’t want to get it wrong. You don’t want to disrespect people during the process.”
The fate of a tribe member’s after-death experience is in the hands of the community, a fact that is treated with unconditional significance. But along with the development of the coronavirus also came priorities coupled with historical context.
“I think history tells us what the impacts and effects could actually be,” Chairman Williams says of the tribal response to the pandemic. “Knowing what pandemics have done to us in the past… we need to adhere to it or else we may be the ones that may not be so lucky.”
Pandemics have wreaked havoc on Indigenous communities since colonization. Cultural and environmental historian Seth Archer writes that, “Epidemics played a role in reshaping society and culture during colonization,” for Indigenous groups. He adds, “Indeed, health adversity is one of the connecting threads of global Indigenous history – which helps explain why so many Indigenous leaders are concerned now with Covid-19.”
Fort Mojave has responded with intensity to the pandemic. They are largely self-governing and self-reliant, meaning that they rely on few governmental resources to run the community, financial or otherwise. The Tribal Council has heightened this self-reliance since the pandemic began. Chairman Williams says the history of smallpox and influenza in the community has allowed them to be better prepared to accept the seriousness of the virus and how it may affect the Mojave. “We are extremely cautious on what could take place here,” he says. There was an immediate stay-at-home order at the beginning of the pandemic. The Tribal Council has provided members with food boxes, supplemental income, and mass amounts of personal protection equipment, such as masks and face shields. Chairman Williams is understandably reluctant to rely on the state or federal government’s response. When there was limited availability of masks, they purchased their own for the tribe, along with animals for food, hand sanitizer and tests.
Mojave Storytelling
Chairman Timothy Williams
Mojave Bird Song
Elder Hubert McCord Sings a Traditional Song
Mojave Poet Natalie Diaz and Hubert McCord on the Afterlife
Natalie Diaz audio exerpt from Between the Ears: Songs of the Mojave Desert.
The forceful response from the tribal leaders has resulted in fewer cases despite the disproportionate impact of Covid-19 on indigenous communities in the United States, according to the CDC. But the pain of not being able to participate in mourning for the dead as a community cannot be understated.
“It’s just an empty feeling, not being able to comfort our loved ones, not being able to comfort our fellow tribal members as they go through, as we describe, the most devastating day of their lives,” said Chairman Williams. He feels the pain of his community but as leader of the Tribal Council, he must be the one to enforce the rules, lest history repeat itself.
People are encouraged to stay home. There have been some Zoom gatherings but for the most part, loved ones mourn privately. When I ask both Medrano and Chairman Williams if there has been any pushback to allow public gatherings, they emphatically say no.
We are a proud people, and we’re a strong people. And knowing and understanding what the Mojave have endured from time immemorial,” Chairman Williams pauses. “We’re still here. We are proud, we’re strong, and we’re resilient.”