Brad gets a rare invitation into one of the world’s most bizarre ceremonies, Famadihana or Turning of the Bones in Madagascar and finds himself digging up corpses from the family’s graveyard. The surprising meaning behind it still haunts him…
Tonight We Dance with the Dead
The village elder smiles at me curiously, his leathery hands nudge a plastic mouthwash bottle of homemade rum toward me. I cringe as the amber liquid burns my throat and the fumes fill my nasal cavity, temporarily numbing my anxiety about what comes next. The weathered shovel I hold creaks with my tightening grip. I wonder what I have gotten myself into. From here, I go with the village down the lonely path to dig up his family’s corpses from the cemetery, some still ‘wet,’ and parade them around town. When I first heard about this seemingly macabre ceremony in the highlands of Madagascar, I was immediately intrigued. I’m not sure what dark fascination I have with a ceremony called Famadihana, or Turning of the Bones, where local villagers exhume the skeletons of their elders to dance with. I search unsuccessfully for a justifiable motive. Perhaps I was seeking a simple thrill or maybe voyeurism fuels my morbid fixation on this phenomenon.
Funeral Crashers
Earlier that morning, on our way to the ceremony, Njara, my college-educated driver, tells me, “They have never allowed a white person to attend this ceremony and emotions are high for this event. We will need to be very delicate in our approach so we don’t incite hostilities.” The look of concern in his eyes stirs my inner doubt. “…they say that the dead can sometimes cross back over into the living world. And during this ceremony, the souls of their ancestors can rejoin the living to indulge once again in worldly desires. It is so taboo for people our age, who prefer to avoid black magic, so the practice is dying out.” He says. “Anyways, this ceremony only occurs every seven years and is restricted to the immediate family so they may not let us attend.” We buy homemade “Rhum” to give them as a token of appreciation in the hopes they’ll let us attend.
The Drunken Mob
We pull off the road at a tiny village. The whole town, all related in some way, is assembled outside the largest of the two-story mud-brick shacks, chanting in anticipation of the procession from the city. Njara announces that the elders have asked to meet me. My heart beats wildly as I focus intently on portraying respectfulness; my hands shake noticeably as I humbly offer the gifts. The elders look me over and the debate quickly becomes heated. The patriarch of the village, an old man with distinguished wrinkles and clouded eyes, darts toward me, snaps up the rum from my hands and slips into the dark entry of the house. I’m in. The family members slowly overcome their curiosity and introduce themselves.
The Celebration Begins
We march down the pitted cattle path away from town.. We await the sign from the astrologer that the fabric between both worlds is thin enough that the exhumation can begin. A growing curiosity swells around me as more and more villagers seek out Njara to ask him questions about me. The old man approaches me showing deep concern. He tells Njara that I appear remorseful which is sending the wrong signals and arousing suspicion. He tells me I should act happy and joyous; that this is a celebratory event and I look like I am attending a funeral. I fear my uninformed presence is a mockery to the family The crowd dances tirelessly to the clumsy yet hypnotic melody of the band, a ragtag group of eight men swaggering around in matching uniforms. Their dented and tarnished brass instruments are reminiscent of the faded splendor of the long abandoned French ‘culturalization’ of natives on this island. A vendor has wheeled her wooden cart and tattered umbrella from far away to sell sodas and cigarettes.
The Crypt is Opened
The crowd goes silent. Suddenly, trumpets sound an impending climax. The old man leaps on top of the family tomb and announces the digging will begin. The crowd ignites, encircling the tomb, chanting rhythmically. The men shovel furiously. The old man pushes his relatives aside and hands me a shovel, insisting I participate.
Once the hole is big enough, the door to the underworld is smashed and collapses into pieces. The crowd gasps collectively. I back away gingerly. The old man soon finds me, grabbing my hand and insisting I go inside with him. I glance at Njara, seeking permission. He nods suspiciously but issues me grave warning, “Whatever you do, don’t touch the bodies.” We crawl on hands and knees through the tiny opening of the catacomb to a small room and find mummies on stone benches with their caramelized bones poking through holes in their garments. Flickering candlelight illuminates the yellow stains from seeping body fluids. A sour, earthy smell of decay permeates the tiny room. The old man introduces me to each of his ancestors by name as he pats the dust from their corpses. He insists I feel the decaying body of his mother on my right who has just died a few weeks ago. I place my hand on her chest and close my eyes as he begins to chant. The hair on my neck stands up as a strange feeling engulfs me, dizzy and scared; I lunge toward the fresh air to avoid fainting.
The Awakening
One by one, the corpses are delicately pulled from the tomb and wrapped in straw floor mats like burritos. With several pushes, a group heaves a corpse above their heads and carries it off. They are laid side-by-side on the flat ground to be cleaned and dressed, the names are written in faded black marker to tell them apart. Their dried burial garments are delicately pulled from their corpses like crispy skin from chicken wings to avoid taking too much flesh. The bodies are dressed in fresh silk garments and individually whisked off by awaiting family members.
The same corpse I touched in the crypt is now in her granddaughter’s arms, dancing in circles. She holds her grandmother delicately, crying tears of happiness and talking about her progress in school. In that moment, I heard a voice answer the granddaughter’s call that I still cannot explain. To this day, I dream of that moment. That voice is hard to forget. My heart sinks as I realize how real this is to her. She passes the mummy to the hands of an awaiting woman who begins to cry with happiness. The young girl refocuses her attention on a game her friends are playing and is soon laughing and joking again.
The Rebirth
As the sun slowly retires beyond the horizon, the bodies are once again laid to rest but upside-down to close the cycle of life and death. The young always return home to honor their origins here at this earthen hill that embodies their ancestry. I feel a deep connection with this family now that only comes from sharing the most intimate experiences. I am eternally grateful to them for opening their doors and my eyes to such a beautiful practice. It is the most amazing way of respecting the dead that I have ever experienced. I came expecting the most macabre of ceremonies but instead found an extreme form of adoration for loved ones that will forever change how I view life and death. My enlightenment feels bittersweet as I realize my own aversions still prevent me from wanting to visit my loved ones at their graves and the void this creates in my life. I don’t have the stomach for facing death. I stubbornly prefer to bury and forget; somehow thinking this will satisfy desire to remember the way they were. I’ve found more happiness in death than I could have ever imagined.

Children Participating in the Famadihana Ceremony (via)
My Craziest Stories:
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- Dancing with Corpses: Famadihana- Turning of the Bones in Madagascar: The hidden meaning behind one of the most bizarre ceremonies will surprise you
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Source: Personal interviews, detailed observations and Wikipedia
at 6:35 am
Thanks so much for this moving post! I recall a festival in tiny mountain village in Peru long ago. best from Spain!
at 7:42 am
Thank you so much for reading and your kind words, Ariel. You piqued my curiosity, what festival?
at 5:14 pm
What a great story! Things that may seem very strange, and even scary to us can be perfectly normal and, as you discovered, touching. How amazing for you to get to participate.
The GypsyNesters recently posted…Oh My Aching Feet! Cobblestones, Comfort & Flight-induced Cankles
at 5:52 pm
Thank you so much for reading. Yeah, it was incredible to be there. They were so casual and welcoming that I was absorbed in the moment and completely lost any apprehensions. It was only afterwards that the reality and introspection set in. Self-discovery is such an important part of traveling for me.
at 7:18 pm
Us too! Enjoyed the post.
The GypsyNesters recently posted…Oh My Aching Feet! Cobblestones, Comfort & Flight-induced Cankles
at 9:43 am
It looks like an amazing, and somewhat surreal experience. Thanks for sharing it. I’m glad you did, you learn more about a people and culture, and indeed country by this sort of experience than by seeing the sights.
Andrew recently posted…Great Travel Songs!
at 12:28 pm
Thanks, Andrew. Yeah, it was a surreal experience, I didn’t really start talking about it until months later. I couldn’t explain the beauty and emotion of this seemingly bizarre ceremony in a way that my friends could comprehend. I still feel some strange connection to that place and that family.
at 4:38 pm
One word “creepy”. But on a cultural standpoint it is interesting yet mind boggling. Great stuff good sir, I don’t know if I could withstand what you have experienced but you are awesome for taking your audience inside a very important celebration for the villagers. We loved the article and it was very much realistic as you described it.
at 3:19 pm
Thank you for reading and commenting, Jay. It means a lot. It wasn’t really as creepy being there as it seems. It’s always so funny how a little curiosity and a few questions lead to a few new friends, then you’re invited to a family celebration, and a little homemade rum, and before you know it, you’re holding a shovel digging up the body of somebody’s grandmother without thinking twice.
brad340 recently posted…The Secret Lives of Sea Gypsies by BRAD BERNARD
at 3:54 pm
Wow sounds like a real good experience. I wish I could’ve done what you did, you are really awesome for that.
at 2:58 pm
Great story Brad. Interesting the traditions of other cultures and you don’t see many posts on Madagascar. Fascinating read!
Frank (bbqboy)
at 2:17 pm
What a read! I found it very interesting to say the least. It is to be commended that they honor the dead so reverently.
at 9:20 am
Have you been to Tana Toraja region in Sulawesi? The funeral ceremony there can compete with this one in it’s weirdness for sure!
at 12:27 am
Torajan funerals are extravagant! I’ve been to a few. So much blood and death that it is difficult to watch. It’s crazy how the whole economy there seems to revolve around buffalo souls.
at 2:50 am
Incredible. I love learning about the different traditions of other cultures. It’s interesting what you say about preferring not to think about those who have passed away. I recently learned that when an Aborigine dies, the rest of their group grieve briefly and then act as though they never existed. These days, they have special warnings before programmes on TV if there’s a change a deceased Aborigine will feature in it.
Arianwen recently posted…SUPBall: the Sexiest Sport Known to Man
at 4:30 pm
Thanks for reading my story! That’s very interesting about aborigines. The experience made me question how I think about life and death. My mom died a few years ago and I’ve been wrestling with my own preconceptions ever since.
Twitter: RicaAbrahan
at 9:58 am
Oh my! This is awesome. You’re so brave! I really enjoyed your post. Thanks for sharing. 🙂
at 9:09 pm
Very good post: Dancing with Corpses: Famadihana, or Turning of the Bones in Madagascar, i definitely love this web site, carry on it.
at 1:26 pm
Great story/review of your amazing adventure. I was totally captivated. Great writing skills and an incredibly interesting subject. Keep traveling…and keep telling us about it!
at 2:22 pm
*while
at 2:21 pm
I first heard about Famadihana whole watching “Taboo” on Natgeo. Incredibly fascinating and absolutely taboo. I thoroughly enjoyed your article.
at 8:50 am
Crazy world, but i love the way you have put down the experience.Awesome
at 12:37 pm
Very strange and unusual experience!
Couldnt imagine something like that may happen around this world.
thanks for sharing your story.
at 10:36 am
Fascinating experience, and wonderfully written! Thanks for sharing.
at 2:22 pm
its really fantastic – I had no idea you did these travel blogs..
at 2:21 pm
Hey Brad! That was so good!! I’m so glad to see you writing about your experiences and how they’ve changed your perspectives on something as big as death. I liked your descriptions a lot. Even things like the way they told you to act joyful instead of somber at this funeral you were at… Made me aware of the stark cultural difference between our America and their world. It also reminded me of losing Mom and our way of moving on in many ways than one. Anyways, I really liked it! I liked that you were so humble and respectful too to their ceremony. I think you should try to keep writing about these things and taking photos and sharing. Thanks!
Love you,
Carly
at 2:20 pm
I am in staying in hostel in Hong Kong and we all read your article. That is really cool and amazing experience that you had. I will be talking about you for many more days and sharing your article, if you do not mind.
Really cool!!!!
at 2:19 pm
Hey, thank you for sending me the article. I haven’t finished reading it yet. It is very well written, but the subject matter of it is still feeling almost “dangerous” for me to read. I really really don’t like the idea of opening crypts, taking corpses out of there, and dancing with the dead corpses! But anyway, congratulations again, you shared the experience very well.
Thank you for the last lines too!
at 4:00 pm
Wow! I really enjoyed reading that! You need to start taking videos so u can be discovered!