Ghost Town

Two weeks ago we had a couple days off of school, so Sue decided to take Natalie and I out on a tour of Lambaré.

She decided we should start the day’s tour of at the cemetery, since we hadn’t seen one yet. Since Wednesday was Paraguayan Independence Day, the official entrance to the cemetery was closed, so we went in through a side entrance. Once through the gates, I didn’t realize right away that we were actually in the cemetery already.

At first glance it seemed like we were transported into a small town, whose paved asphalt road was lined with carefully shaped trees and small decorated houses. After walking past a few of these “houses,” I began to realize they all had family names on plaques above the doors. It was then when I realized that these “houses” were each family’s gravesites. 

Sue began to explain the traditions of Paraguayan burials as we made our way through the maze of family mausoleums. In Paraguay all of the graves are above ground in house-like mausoleums or small shrines that enclose the cremated remains or casket of the lost loved one. She mentioned how it is typical for caskets to have a glass window over the face of the deceased.

"Temporary housing" for some caskets

We first wound our way around the more wealthy family gravesites, along tight paths through the stately looking mausoleums, each having a locked door adorned with a stained glass cross on the front. Many mausoleums we passed had broken windows making it easy to see inside. We stopped and peeked into some of them, to see shelves inside on which the caskets were just sitting there on either side of another shelf where flowers and pictures can be placed.

As we got deeper into the cemetery, it began getting harder and harder to find a path through the graves. The small shrines became more and more concentrated, many built one on top of the other, creating a confusing, senseless maze of decorated tombs.  Here was where the lower income families left their loved ones. 

It seemed so surreal to me as we made our way through the small spaces between graves, carefully placing our feet on the almost nonexistent path between them. As we rounded the corner, we saw a couple women tending to a grave, one putting out new flowers, while the other sat crying. We carefully squeezed our way past as Sue explained how many people come to the cemeteries and cry over their lost loved ones for decades, feeling they have no hope, because they don’t know the hope of Christ.

The whole experience in the cemetery was extremely surreal and brought a whole new perspective on evangelism in this country. These people are searching for hope. For peace. And that’s exactly what Christ has for them.