• WALKING WITH THE DEAD

    “As soon as they saw us approaching with our horses, some shop owners hurried to close their doors in order to show us that we were not welcome,” remembered 74 year old, Alfred Mifsud. “This happenned mostly in the villages of Ħal-Kirkop and Safi, and in other areas of northern Malta. It was more a reaction to the sense of disgust which people felt towards our job rather than because of any superstitious fear that we could attract death to their doorstep. In fact, those who did let us in their shops to drink a cup of tea, had a number of reserved cups for us, since other clients would refuse to use them.”

    In the old days, it was hard to be an undertaker. Work started from the early hours, when it was still dark, as it took long to prepare the horses and the carriages, and then to drive to church. The deceased was placed in a coffin and was generally carried on the shoulder, from his house to the chapel or church where mass was celebrated in the early morning, so that those who attended, could go to work soon after. In the meantime, the undertakers would stay outside, waiting to carry the coffin to the cemetery.

    Albert and Alfred Mifsud at San Nikola Cemetery (Photo - Fiona Vella) (2)“By that time, after travelling the long road on a hard seat in the cold, we would be yearning for a cup of tea. Yet there were moments when where it not for the kindness of the church’s sacristan, we would be bound to wait for hours before we could drink something warm.”

    Certainly, this was a minor discomfort when considering what the rest of the job entailed.

    “People might think that undertakers will eventually get used to death and will become numb to the pain which it brings with it. However, they are definitely mistaken because we are often saddened by the suffering, especially when children are somehow involved. How can you remain indifferent when you see parents burying their child or when you hear the cry of the young ones when they see their mum or dad being hauled underground?”

    A shudder ran through me and I wondered how anyone could withstand to do such a job.

    “You learn to accept death as part of the circumstances of life and consider your job just like any other. You do your duty as best as you can in order to see that everything will run smoothly and that your client is served well.”

    When Alfred was twelve years old, he was already assisting his dad, who was also an undertaker, to prepare the deceased for burial. He also gave a hand to other undertakers by helping them out in cemeteries. Even as a child, this work did not upset him and he was never afraid of dead people or burial grounds.

    “Our family has been doing this work for more than a century now. It was Lukardu Pace, my father’s uncle, who started a career in this sector, by carrying the dead in funeral carriages. After he died in a traffic accident, my father Fidiel, who is now 93 years old, took over this job, and he introduced us in this work. Eventually it was only me who became a funeral carriage driver besides being an undertaker. However my brothers opened another business which is related to funerals.”

    As Alfred began to show me some old photographs of the different funeral carriages that were available at the time, I realized that although death does not differentiate between the rich and the poor, nonetheless, affluent persons still insisted to distinguish themselves from others until the very end.

    Albert and Alfred Mifsud at San Nikola Cemetery (Photo - Fiona Vella) (1)“Prosperous families used the carriage known as ‘tal-prima’ which was very elaborate and richly designed with golden sculpture. It was made of mahogany and it was drawn by four black horses that were adorned with feathers and an elegant pall. Then there was ‘tas-sekonda’ carriage which was made of cheaper painted wood and was accompanied by two black horses. A carriage painted in white and decorated with flowers was utilized to carry dead children and teenagers. In this case, the black horses were dressed with a white pall which was embellished with golden embroidery. ”

    Alas, there was no pomposity reserved for the destitute ones, especially if they had no family. The same thing applied to those who were in trouble with the Church.

    “In the past, the Church had a much greater influence on the Maltese society. One was expected to receive the holy communion at least once a year, and a ticket known as ‘bulettin’ was given to those who adhered to this regulation. Those who did not, were not considered as part of the Church, and if they died, they became known as ‘ta’ bla preċett’. No priest would accompany them for their burial, and obviously, no mass would be celebrated. They would simply be carried away in a carriage and were buried in a particular section in the cemetery which was reserved for such people. I remember my father narrating how in such cases, the families of the deceased would insist with him to go and collect the dead relative during the night so that the neighbours will not see what was happenning. Then he would go and wait behind the cemetry’s door in order to be the first to enter once it opens, and hasten the burial before other people are around.”

    Alfred remarked that the tradition to celebrate a funeral mass started from the 1970s. Before that period, the family would only organize a short function prior to the burial. In fact, during this time, he used to manage to attend to three or four burials in a day. This was not anymore possible, once funerals included also a longer mass.

    “Along my 50-year career, I have witnessed many changes with regards to funerals. Amongst these, I remember many instances where the deceased was accompanied not only by family and friends, but also by members of a religious confraternity. There were also those who paid nuns and orphans from convents of charity in order to attend to their funerals.”

    Interesting information kept pouring out as Alfred recalled his long experience in this work. Although happily married to Mary, he still reminisces the difficulty in his youth to find a partner, as many girls considered his work repulsive. Many years have passed from then on and the situation has somehow mitigated. However, Albert, his 29 year old son, who has followed his father’s career, told me that he had the same problem too.

    Undertakers Alfred and Albert Mifsud (Photo - Fiona Vella)“I have been fascinated by my father’s work since I was five. Somehow, I was never afraid to help him out in cemeteries and I preferred to be with him than to go to school. Yet, I can understand the discomfort that other people who are not involved in this sector might feel in these circumstances.”

    “By now, I have learnt to take everything in stride, even when I notice some people making superstitious signs at me or at our hearses. There are moments when people make it embarassingly evident that they are uncomfortable with my presence. I remember clearly a particular instance when a person was so perturbed when he saw me waiting behind him in a queue, that he refused to take the rest of the money from the salesgirl and ran out of the shop.”

    Just like his father, Albert admitted that when death is always on the order of the day, this job could engulf you with turmoil. Yet throughout these years, he was diligently coached by his father in order to learn how to protect himself from excessive grief, particularly by recognizing the significance of his work in alleviating this burden from the mourning family. Nevertheless, the fear of death is difficult to overcome, even when one faces it so many times.

    “Instead of helping you to take death lightly, probably this work might make you perceive the end in a more dreadful way, since you know clearly what awaits you,” Albert said as he smiled nervously.

    (This article was published in ‘Man Matters’ Supplement issued with The Times of Malta dated 19th December 2015)