Diabolic Digest
At
death’s door
Getting an appointment with
“Sorry to keep you waiting, but a Moroccan
woman died unexpectedly this morning,” explained Ben Taher, 31. He slipped
behind a well-polished wooden desk surrounded by electronic equipment. Amid the
remarkable profusion of shrubbery in Les Pompes Funèbres Islamiques de
Belgique, only subtle signs revealed his line of business: coffins
discreetly stacked behind a screen in the dim recesses at the back.
Ben Taher set up shop 10 years ago, in partnership with a Belgian Muslim, after
attending a friend’s funeral conducted by a Belgian undertaker who knew little
about Islamic practices. Today, their small but successful business has a staff
of 15 and remains one of a handful of Islamic undertakers in
Ben Taher takes me through the steps of a typical Islamic burial, which he notes
is quite close to Jewish funerals. At the morgue, the naked body of the
deceased is cleansed and wrapped in a shroud known as a kaffan, while
religious passages are recited. The body is then placed in a tabout
(coffin) which is sealed by the Belgian authorities ready for the funeral
ceremony, usually on the following day, or repatriation within three to four
days.
While the process of repatriation is fast considering the procedures involved,
it is not quite fast enough to meet the demanding Muslim ideal of internment
within a day of death. However, Islamic scholars have shown a measure of
leniency on the issue. “The Ulemma (theologians) consider entry into the
tabout to be equivalent to burial,” says Ben Taher.
Despite the speed and relative ease
of burials in
Despite high demand, Ben Taher attributes the
lack of competition in his business to the macabre (a word derived from the
Arabic word for graveyard) associations surrounding his profession and the
qualifications required before an undertaker can acquire a licence.
“Most Muslims come to
needs in times of grief,” says Ben Taher, adding that helping ease their burden
is the most rewarding aspect of his job.
Despite his comfortable niche, he says he doesn’t charge exorbitant prices. “We
prefer to be moderate to show mercy to the dead,” he says, adding that poorer
families are sometimes offered significant reductions.
Ben Taher admits that, after a decade of the
job, which he compares to that of a doctor, he still finds it emotionally
taxing. And it isn’t a line of work he would recommend for the queasy or the
faint-hearted.
Like a doctor, Ben Taher, who recently became a father, is constantly on call
and can often work seven-day weeks. He says he depends heavily on the moral and
practical support of his wife. He is careful, he says, to sometimes leave the
world of the dead in the charge of his associates so he can enjoy life with his
family.
This article appeared in the 11 April 2002 issue
of the Bulletin
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