A father's graveside tribute

Hundreds of people swelled around the grave where Mary was to be laid to rest. Several Pastors lead the mourners in prayer before Mary's father was called upon to say a few words about his daughter.

His words were profound and touched me deeply.

He lavished praise upon his departed daughter. His pain was evident in his words and was engraved upon his face. After speaking so highly of Mary he then turned his attention to the rest of his children and family memebers gathered at the graveside. He began to rebuke them. He told them in no uncertain terms that they had lost a remarkable sister - a sister who had provided for all the family whilst her siblings had sat at home comfortable in the knowledge that Mary would not let them go hungry. He reminded them that now with Mary gone they would have to fend for themselves. They would have to get up from their chairs and go out to work.

His words were passionate but not harsh. He spoke out of love - not just for his departed daughter but for her siblings. He desparately wanted Mary's life to be an inspiration to the rest of her family.

I felt that his words were brave. He spoke the words that many fathers had left unsaid. I hope that his words were heard by his children and by others gathered there - and that they inspired some to act and not just be reliant on one or two family members to support everyone else.

Mary's Funeral

On the morning of Mary's burial we travelled to Mary's family home in order to assist with providing transport to the church. Several dozen people clung to my bakkie as we made our way through the pothole filled roads of the locations. The funeral party wound its way through the streets until finally we arrived at a modern church a few kilometres away. The church was newly built and was clearly thriving. Mary had been a Pastor at the Church and thus the building was full to beyond a comfortable capacity.

Mary's body lay at the front of the church in front of the altar. Behind the coffin stood an array of Pastors - each of whom would play a part in the service. The most moving part of the service for me was its climax when the congregation filed passed Mary's open casket. Watching her mother and father and especially her son saying goodbye to their daughter/mother has heartwrenching.

After the service we returned to the bakkie and again filled up with people. We then followed the hearse and funeral cars to the cemetry.

The cemetry in Lusaka is the size of a small town. It is vast. The mounds of earth that mark each grave are stretch far beyond the horizon in every direction. In order to accomodate the dead the authorities have had to dig graves in between existing plots and thus the graves are incredibly close together. In fact it is difficult to walk through the graveyard without stepping on the side of some of the mounds.

The driver of the hearse struggled to find the plot where Mary was to be buried. We drove in a snake-like convoy through the cemetry for a worryingly long period of time before the plot was found. In other circumstances the scene might have been almost comical. It goes to illustrate just how vast the cemetries are in Southern Africa.

Mourning for Mary

After learning of Mary's death we travelled to the home of her parents to pay our respects to the family. The family house was in one of the locations not far off the Great East Road. It was a very simple house and the family were obviously quite poor. In fact Mary was the only child of her parents who had been working. Her parents and her siblings had all been completely and utterly depenant on Mary for everything. Mary's death brought the family heartbreak and trauma but also economic ruin.

At the funeral home Betty went into the simple two room structure that was home to Mary's family and I joined the men in the yard. As in Zimbabwe and Botswana a bonfire was buring and all the men were sat around it. Many came and went. Some sat in silence whereas others chatted in Nyanja. Mary's father made me welcome and despite his grief ensureed that I was made to feel comortable at his home. I was almost embarrassed to be given the most comfortable seat in the tard whilst he himself sat on a battered old stool. I knew that to refuse his hospitality would have been to insult him so I accepted his welcome.

Mary's father and I chatted for some time until Betty emerged from inside the funeral house. He told me about Mary and how unselfish she was. She had worked incredibly hard and Hybrid and had reached middle management. Her career was the second most important thing in her life - after her family.

Mary left one young son. He was in his early teens. He was a well balanced and well rounded young man. He was bright, articulate and evidently well educated. Mary had been a single mother so her son was now an orphan. Tragically as well as losing his mother he would have to come to terms with other dramatic changes to his life. With his mothers passing away there would be no one to pay his school fees. The loss of a mother is tragic for any child but the implications of this loss would were immense.

Visiting an old friend in Zambia

It was just before Christmas three years ago that my wife Betty and I decided to visit Betty's old friend Mary whilst we were in Lusaka. Betty and Mary had worked together for many years and although they hadn't seen much of each other since Betty moved to Botswana they were still incredibly close. I'd only met Mary once and that was at our wedding so I was looking forward to spending time with her.

To catch up with Mary we went to the Hybrid Poultry Farm where Mary still worked. Betty went in and asked for Mary. We were told that Mary was unwell and that she had been admitted to the University Teaching Hospital. Betty was not unduly concerned though as she was reassured that Mary was recovering from her illness.

It was a couple of days later that Betty and I travelled to UTH to visit Mary. We'd have gone sooner but we had many people to see during our short time in Lusaka. The hospital was a vast building not too dis-similar to many post-war hospitals in the UK.

We knew which ward Mary was admitted to so we made our way straight there.

Upon arrival at the ward Betty asked for Mary. The nurse she spoke to asked us to wait one minute whilst she went to speak to the matron. The nurse soon returned with the matron to give us the news that Mary had passed away during the night...

Betty was obviously in deep shock. I was dumbfounded. Betty thanked the nurses for their assistance and we walked back to the car in silence.