"The One Who Was Always Smiles"

If you have never been to a funeral in Zambia, allow me to describe one for you. Mr. Munga has been a highly respected member of the Namwianga community here since the 1970’s. He teaches in the secondary school and the university on the mission, and he also teaches a few of the courses our students take while they are here. His wife had been sick for quite some time, and when she died last weekend we were invited to be a part of the funeral.

The initial portion was Western-influenced (minus the English to Tonga translation); the service was inside the small, one-room church building and filled to standing room only. The casket was in the center of the room, with the pews pushed to either side of the walls so that we were all facing each other. The men took turns leading songs, praying, or reading scriptures. The entire time we were in there, people were leaving their seats to stand in the middle of the room and take pictures. After about an hour of this, the casket was opened; we formed a line and passed by the casket on our way outside. The family stayed behind while the rest of us trudged through the brush back behind the building to the burial site.

The site was unremarkable except for the huge hole that had been dug, with dirt piled high on either side. We stood in a large circle and waited while the family took some time by themselves inside the church building. We were all quiet as several men lined up green plastic chairs by the grave for the family, and we listened to the family sing and wail from inside the building. After 30 0r 40 minutes had passed, the women came out first, carrying the casket that had been covered in a lace cloth. The men followed and helped them place the casket on a table beside the grave. After a few more songs they lowered the casket into the grave, put two sheets of scrap metal on top of it, and proceeded to mix cement with one of the dirt piles. One man poured water from a bucket a little at a time while three men mixed and shoveled the cement, and a fifth man stood on the scrap metal and packed the cement before it dried. Once the cement was in, a larger group of men took turns shoveling in the dirt on top. There were only three shovels, so three men would shovel until a few more men came out from the circle to tap them on the shoulder and take their place. The cloud of dust it caused was so thick it coated our feet, clothes, hair, and even our throats. When the dirt was sufficiently packed, the women brought out a bucket of roses and family members, friends, church family, and representatives from all areas of the community (including our group) were called individually to lay a rose on the grave until the length of the plot was covered completely. Generally plastic flowers would be used, but because of this family’s prominence, real roses were brought in from a larger city several hours away.

If this sounds like a lengthy explanation, let me assure you that there is even more-and we’re going on two and a half hours at this point. Once the flowers were placed, a man stepped up and announced he would be giving us her life history; this was followed by other speeches from family members (one of which required two translators for both the tribal language to Tonga and also Tonga to English). It is the end of winter here, but each afternoon the sun gets a little hotter, and here we were in the direct glare of the blazing sun without shade to be seen in the middle of the day-and we were melting. Us weak makuas (white people) were dropping like flies with dehydration while the Zambians stood unfazed in their sweaters, coats, and winter attire! We topped off the ceremony at just over three hours, and though we left to go back for lunch, the rest of the people headed to sit vigil at the grieving family’s house for a day or more, where the family is expected to cook for them. In all of this (and it was a lot to take in) my favorite description we heard of this well-loved woman, was that she was “always smiles”.

Unfortunately that was not the only funeral we attended this week. One of the Haven babies who died of measles right before we came was buried on Friday. They had been trying to contact her relatives in her village all this time, and were only just able to get ahold of them for permission to bury her in Namwianga. We walked a dirt path lined with rocks a few hundred yards into the bush behind the Haven until we got to a little fence around a big beautiful tree. Brambles and thorny branches serve as the “gate” to keep the dogs from getting in. We surrounded the fresh grave under the tree together with the Aunties and sang several songs before one man shoveled in the dirt, and in twenty minutes it was over. What a contrast to the elaborate funeral the day before. The other tiny graves beside Shelby’s held markers, but no names; unremarkable but for the fact that their souls cannot be held by the dirt and rock of this earth. There will be another funeral soon for Dalitso, another Haven baby. We rounded on him, and he ended up in the inpatient clinic ward later that day for fever, cough and decreased appetite. After starting an iv and fluids, I watched him become more tachypnic and listless. I put a feeding tube down and we diluted his milk and tediously fed him through the tube as slowly as we could push it, but he was never able to keep anything down. We started him on treatment for meningitis, but it was impossible to tell definitively if that was the problem (the lab does not have the stain to test for that). Despite anything we tried, he died that night without even an explanation as to why. He had the widest, brightest eyes of any baby I’ve ever seen.

The majority of my time this week has been spent at either the clinic or the Haven, and we are preparing (making the schedules, etc) for the students to start rotating through both places starting next week. Classes for them start tomorrow with Tonga lessons at 6:30-yikes! History of African Missions is from 7-8, followed by breakfast and more class. Clinic/Haven rotations are after lunch. School starts back for primary, secondary and university students at the Mission schools tomorrow, which means almost 1,000 students total staying in dorms near the schools. I have a feeling things are going to start picking up even more this week!