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.

At the cemetry

A large crowd had gathered at the graveside when we arrived. Over the shoulders of my fellow mourners I could see the canopy that covered Boipelo's grave. Next to the canopy was a large pile of earth and the hole of about two metres deep where Boipelo was to be buried. The undertakers had positioned the coffin into a hoist that would lower Boipelo's body into her grave at the appropriate moment. More prayers were said at the graveside but my overwhelming memory is of the wailing that grew more and more intense as the time approached where Boipelo would be lowered into the ground. Several women at the graveside collapsed and had to be escorted away. As Boipelo's body was lowered to into the grave the wailing incresed in volume as grief overwhelmed so many of the mourners.

Once Boipelo was in her grave the family members shovelled the first earth onto her coffin. The noise of the earth impacting on the wood of the casket led to further outpourings of grief. Soon the process of burying Boipelo intensified. The male memebers of the funeral party took it in turns to shovel the earth into the grave - I was quite surprised to see that the mourners buried the body themselves as in my own county it is a task that is usually left to the undertakers. The process of shifting earth onto the grave continued until a mound of at least a metre in height was above the grave.

The burial ended with the family placing flowers on the grave before all filed away in silence.

The journey to the graveside

Following the body viewing a few more prayers were said before Boipelo's body was carried to the funeral car. The hearse then led a convoy of perhaps 50 vehicles to the village cemetry. I was driving my 'bakkie'. I had about 20 people in it or hanging off it. It was expected that anyone with a vehicle would carry as many passengers as was physically possible. The elderly sat inside the vehicle or whilst the young clung to whichever part of the truck they could. I found it most unnerving the first few times I carried so many passengers but I soon realised that no one ever fell off (and even if they had there didn't exist a culture of litigation!)

At the cemetery I noticed at least 2 other burials taking place. This was an unsurprising sight even in a relatively small village. Burials never always took place on Saturday in Botswana and there would always be many taking place at the same time. As we walked to the place where Boipelo's grave had been dug I couldn't help notice the countless white crosses that stood mute in the ground. Each cross would have a name and a date on it. The vast majority of the crosses were for young people who had died in their late teens or early years of adulthood. It was quite rare to see the grave of an elderly person.

This is the legacy of HIV/AIDS. Parents and grandparents burying their children. And this was not just the case in this cemetry but all over Botswana ... and Zimbabwe... and Zambia... and South Africa ... in fact all over Sub-Saharan Africa. The implications of this is something I will return to in a later post.

The overnight vigil

The night before the burial a group of us drove from Francistown to Boipelo's home village. We arrived at Boipelo's home at around 11pm and found a prayer vigil in progress. The prayer vigil was primarily attended by the more elderly members of Boipelo's family and their friends from the village. Seats had been laid out in the yard to accommodate mourners. I recognised the chairs as the one's I had transported from Unique only a few days previously. The majority of those at prayer were elderly women. The men sat not far away around a large fire; sitting under the clear night sky under the moon and stars. The men didn't talk much. Mostly they starred into the fire with only their thoughts for company. It was common at any funeral to see the men and women sat separately. 

Outside the compound their were many younger people hanging around next to where the mourners had parked their cars. A group of guys were at drinking a few beers and chatting using the back of one of the 'bakkies' as a bar. It struck me that the younger Batswana did not participate in the traditional funeral practices as much as their parents and grandparents but still considered it important to be at the funeral house the night before the burial to pay their respects to their departed friend who lay at peace inside her family home.

After greeting Boipelo's parents and the elders of the family I took my leave and joined some of the guys outside the compound. It seemed irreverent to drink alcohol in the eyesight of those at prayer but no one around the cars appeared to be too concerned. Gradually over the next few hours more people arrived at the funeral house. The staff and several clients of the Salon arrived and soon joined us in a beer or two. 'It's what Boipelo would have wanted!' That amused me as I knew that back in England people would say exactly the same thing!

After chatting and passing the time for a few hours the younger crowd began to wane and we all took the chance to rest our eyes in our cars for a short time before the burial service would begin.

The Funeral House

Over the next few days the girls from the Salon continued to be busy with organising Boipelo's burial. As I had generally finshed lecturing by midday or early afternoon I was able to assist in transporting food, furniture, fire wood and people to Boipelo's home. Boipelo's colleagues and clients collected a substantial sum of money in order to buy many of the essentials for the funeral.

When I talk of the 'funeral' and the 'burial' I am refering to two overlapping but seperate things. The funeral in Botswana refers to the whole period of mourning that comes with someone's death. From the time someone passes away friends and family will gather at the 'funeral house' in order to support each other in a time of sorrow. This period of time does not end with the burial of the deceased either. The 'late' are mourned for a period of time that is partly dependant upon their age. The more elderly the deceased is then the longer period of time they are mourned. I was quite surprised at first to learn that infants are not mourned for nearly as long a period as the elderly. I am informed that this is because they have died in innocent and thus will be received instantly by God upon their death.

As the 'funeral' lasts for at least a few weeks it is an incredibly costly time for many families. All those who visit a 'funeral house' will expect to be fed. This is the case as, especially before the burial, many mourners will stay overnight at the funeral house in order to pray with and support the immeadiate family of the deceased.

The 'burial itself is also a costly business. A family does not only have to cover the costs of the morgue, coffin and undertaker but also is expected to feed all the mourners who have attended the burial. These numbers are often large as a whole village will attend a burial. In the past when funerals were much less frequent this did not cause families such financial burden but in these times of HIV/AIDS the whole process of the funeral and burial can causea massive financial burden for the family.

Boipelo's family were particually poor and thus the financial support provided by her workmates and especially her boss, were invaluable.

Funeral Arrangements

Boipelo's family lived in a small village not far from Selibwe Pikwe which was about 100km's from Francistown. The owner of the Salon - took control of the funeral arrangements. I was struck by how Boipelo's work colleagues pulled together to help her family. Despite their obvious greif and sorrow they were determined to ensure that Boipelo's family would not have to worry about the logistics of arranging the funeral. Colleagues of her even went to the hospital to ensure that the death certificate would be ready when Boipelo's mother came to collect her daughter's body and the undertaker was contacted to begin preparations for the burial.