Grave Sweeping Festival 清明節

（譚Tan is my host father's family name. Before "sweeping" any graves we first went to the gathering of the family in a small government building's courtyard in the countryside.)

(Hell money, the money burnt near grave sites so the dead relatives may have spending money in the afterlife.)

(Selling fire crackers 鞭炮 [bian1 pao4, byen-pao].)

(爺爺 [yeh yeh: Grandfather] returning from his wife's grave.)

(My host father's mother's grave. She passed away when my host father was four years old. She had been ill for a long time my host mother told me.)

(Walking through a village street decorated with Grave Sweeping Festival things. The big flowery circle is made of paper, and in the middle it says 奠[dian4, dyen] which means to make an offering.)

(Water Ox used for plowing. )

(My host father [standing] and my host father's older brother [kneeling] in front of their grandmother's grave.)

(Walking through rice fields to leave grandmother's grave site.)

Grave sweeping festival doesn't actually involve sweeping any graves, at least the three graves my host family and I visited never got swept. Grave sweeping day was not really what I had expected. It seemed more traditional than Chinese New Year to me (or at least to my idea of traditional Chinese culture, but what do I know? I am foreign!). For my family this holiday involved a big get-together on my father's side of the family. The whole 譚 Tan family got together somewhere on the outskirts of a small town an hour and forty-five minutes outside of Chongqing.

My host father parked the sedan on the edge of a little dirt farm road outside a dingy little local government building complex somewhere in the countryside. I walked up to the gate that lead into the courtyard and was met by a hundred pair of eyes staring back at me. My host mother quickly moved me to a bench outside the courtyard and out of view. She didn't want my "presence" to interrupt the speech given by the head of the family (which was going on when we arrived). "I am sorry Xiao Tang [shao tah-ng : my nickname] I forgot to tell the family you would be coming to the celebration. I hope you aren't embarrassed!"

After the speech was said and done my family snuck in. Well not really...I was surrounded by a sea of old Chinese country folk, my host mother helped me press through them. When we finally made it to the table furthest from everyone a crowd of elderly men followed.

"Can he understand what we say?"

"Where is he from?" they asked.

"Look at how yellow his hair is," one exclaimed.

"His skin is so white!" another whispered.

"Oh, he can speak Chinese very well," my host mom piped up.

"Mmmm." Was the only response, mind you not an embarrassed one. Just a sort of unsure one.

After a drawn out lunch. My host mother, father, sister, uncle, aunt, grandfather, other aunt, and cousin separated from the rest of the Tan family and drove to our respective branch of the family's graves. We first visited my host father's mother's grave.

My host grandmother (I suppose I could say) is buried in a small vault located on a hill over looking rice paddies, bamboo groves and a small path leading through the fields. It was a very pretty place. We only had to walk along a narrow hill ridge for about 2 minutes before getting to her stone. Along the way we passed other graves. Most had already been visited. Incense sticks long burnt out still lay in front of the barely visible ivy-entangled tombstones. When I got to the grandmother's stone, my host aunts and uncle were already "talking" with her.

"This year their is a financial crisis Po-po, but you don't need to worry about us. We're all fine."

"Here look Po-po, I have brought Xiao Xiang [shao shah-ng : my four year old host sister] and our new friend Xiao Tang [shao tah-ng] to see you. Look at how big Xiao Xiang is getting."

"Will this be enough money Po-po? Use it well!"

Meanwhile my host uncle was staking a pole into the ground to hang white paper cuttings from. My host mother and cousin were burning Hell money so my host grandmother would be financially secure in the afterlife. When all was through everyone stood in front of the stone and made three deep bows. My host grandfather set the firecrackers off, as we walked away the sound of the firecrackers echoed off into the distance keeping the evil spirits far away from Po-po.

For some reason walking down the hill was very sad. It felt strange to know that as Westerners we really don't have a holiday like this. There is Day of the Dead but that's a bit different. I also like the fact that the family honors and remembers the dead together. That is very different I think.

Later that day we visited two more graves. One would have been my host great grandmother on my Father's side, and the other on my mother's side. It was just about the same. Except when we visit my host mother's grandmother my host father's side of the family didn't accompany us.