An African Funeral

October 18, 2009

I have seen a lot of death here in Africa. The day before I left for Malawi I heard that one of the guides who bring tourists across the Falls to Angel’s Pool died. One of the tourists got into trouble when they were crossing a bit of water and the guide went in to save him. Unfortunately the guide ended up just taking the man’s place and drowned. I heard that his body remained there for a while and eventually washed over the Falls.

When Mark and I were in Malawi we passed by a car accident involving two large semis. One was completely overturned and sideways on the road while the other’s cab was slightly skewed but was being held upright by the trailer. It seemed like everyone in the small town was there. A dead body could be seen in the ditch with a sheet covering the upper half. I don’t know if he was one of the drivers or a pedestrian that was walking in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And finally, last Saturday one of our night guards died while on duty. I was still on my way back from Malawi but apparently he collapsed and started throwing up blood. They called the paramedics but he was pronounced dead soon after they left the compound. His name was Noel and I had talked to him on numerous occasions. In fact he was the last one that Mark and I talked to before we left for Malawi and he wished us happy travels. He was young too. Maybe in his mid-20’s although he looked much older. He was HIV+ but I never did find out exactly what killed him.

His funeral was held Tuesday morning. Many of the volunteers including myself attended. We were driven first to the funeral home where they collected the body and put it in the casket. We then led the motorcade to the Catholic Church across town where they held a mass in his honor. There was much singing and an offering was taken to help the family with the funeral expenses. They had communion and toward the end some family members and close friends got up and told stories about Noel and the life he led.

At the end of the ceremony the casket was carried to the back of the church and left open as the mourners filed past. The immediate family left the church last. The women wailed and some of the men even broke down crying.

We loaded up the vehicles again and drove out to the cemetery for the burial. Again there was much singing. The priest said prayers and read from the bible. Noel’s fellow security workers lowered his casket into the grave and after a blessing of the first shovelful of dirt, filled it in. Since gravestones cost a lot of money the dirt is piled up about three feet above ground level to identify where someone is buried. At the end people were called forward and given a flower to put in the grave. They began with the parents, then grandparents, siblings, other relatives, coworkers, neighbors and church members. African Impact was even called and Sam stepped forward to do the honors. The ceremony ended with speeches from the family, his church and his security company along with thanks to those that had provided transport.

Things may be done differently here in Zambia but the Christian concepts of life and death are the same, even if they have to deal with it at a much younger age. Almost all of the 100,000 inhabitants of Livingstone are some sort of Christian and attend church every weekend. Mass is much the same except the music is livelier, with people dancing and clapping as they sing (including the alter boys), and mass is longer, sometimes lasting over two hours.

It is this faith that seems to keep the community together in times of hardship. They look not only to each other but also to God in trying to figure out why things happen as they do. And although it may take a long time for living conditions to improve here, I have no doubt that the friendliness and strength of these people will persevere.