Funerals are no fun

I had to go to a funeral last night for my friend's Father. It was very interesting to me. They are Tongan. Tonga for those who don't know, is a small Polynesian island in the Pacific near New Zealand. I only mention their heritage because the funeral was centered around it and it is always interesting to me to attend cermenonies of other cultures. For those unfamiliar with the Tongan people, the only way I can describe their general appearance is that they have a similar look as native Hawaiins and in general tend to be large people.
The entire funeral was in their language so I understood nothing. Nada. Not a word.
But it was still very cool. All of the people in the funeral home had on a ceremonial outfit which could best be described as tightly weaved straw wraps. They wrap this outfit around the entire lower portions of their bodies. Some were just very basic, others were very elaborate. I was the only blonde in the entire place and only one of five people (that I could see) who was not Tongan. The place was packed. Like 300 people packed. But if anyone was looking for me, they would have had no problem finding me. HA.
Anyhow, a priest comes out and talks (no clue what he said) and then when he is done the entire place starts to sing. Then another man came up and talked and then everyone would sing. This process repeated itself over and over again. And then every once in awhile people would file out of the pews and walk up to the casket, (open, *makes face)undrape it, lean over and kiss him and then redrape the casket and return to their seats.
I didn't understand one word of the singing but I have to tell you that it was beautiful and it sounded spiritual and joyous. I was really getting into that. And they all seemed in tune with each other. Very cool.
And then every member of the family would get up and talk. Um, Tongans don't have small families. It was a 3 hour service. 3 HOURS!!!!.
I'll say this; Tongans are super friendly at their services. The people sitting around me were so nice to me and then they kept trying to feed me. They kept telling me to go out to the truck and get some food. *snort* Even when I was leaving they kept telling me "go to the truck and take food with you. You must take our food."
I am not a tiny woman by normal standards but compared to Tongans, I am an underfed waif. The average size of the Tongan women there was at least 250lbs. I couldn't tell if they were being hospitable or if they were afraid that I was going to just poof away. *snort*
I couldn't find the food truck damnit. I looked though because there is nothing better than roasted pig and poi. I wish I could have found the food truck.
I've rambled enough. After all of that rambling, my point was that it is interesting to attend ceremonies which are of different cultures.
Today I am either helping Michelle's brother put down sod in his front yard or I am going shopping. I'm not sure yet.