First Funeral...

Today I attended my first funeral in Lesotho. I was one of the few people in my group who still hadn't been to one in this, our first year in country. The funeral was for one of my students and, in a land of rampant HIV/AIDS, poverty, disease, etc., was particularly tragic in that the boy had thus far been fortunate enough to avoid these common fates only to meet his end, at the age of 24, in the rushing waters of the, now swollen, Senqu River. Though there were no witnesses and the poor boy's body was not found for over a week, the assumption is that, while watching his cattle on horseback, he tried to cross the river when he fell in and was drowned.

Now, funerals in Lesotho are always held on Saturday. Accordingly, this morning, I accompanied some of my fellow teachers to the home of the boy's family, where the service was held. The ceremony was not wholly unlike those we hold in the States. Some Bible verses were read and different friends and family got up before the group to share memories of the boy or to do a little preaching. There was a whole lot more singing than I am used to, though probably no more than at the mass of any of the more musical religions.

There were a couple of things that did stand out to me as being a little different from what I am used to. Firstly, I had heard the dress code at such things was formal or semi-formal, but it turned out this was very open to interpretation with everything present, from full suits and black dresses to jeans and bright T-shirts. Next, being held outside at the family's home, all manner of chickens, pigs, and other such farm animals managed to keep up a small racket throughout the entire proceedings. A few of the local ragged dogs also kept wandering through the midst of everything. However, no one seemed to find this odd nor did they let it take away from the solemnity of the occasion. Another interesting thing was that the mother of the deceased was afforded a special spot in the front of the group where, upon a pile of blankets and pillows, she lay on the ground. The idea being, I was told, that the mother is supposed to be so grieved that she is weak and faint is thus given this setup where she could be seen laying and weeping for the duration of the ceremony. She was also always attended by two other women who were on either side of her to physically support her.

After everyone spoke their turn, the group walked in a procession with the casket at front, to a small plot nearby with five or six other graves. The casket was placed in the grave, some more verses were read, and then each person took a turn at tossing some soil into the grave. The men would each take up a shovel and heave a few loads in, while the women would each take a handful and drop it onto the casket. Eventually this was done and, a couple of small, rough stones being placed for a headstone, we returned to the family's place where everyone was fed a good meal of of beef, samp, and potatoes.

It was difficult to bury one of my students, but the whole ceremony was very nice and as good a way as any to say goodbye.