Celebration of a Life

In one of the more bittersweet cultural experiences so far, this past weekend I attended a memorial service and funeral for one of our recently departed community members.  Of course it was a sad occasion, but it was still an interesting experience to be a part of and observe.

The story actually starts last Wednesday, when in the late afternoon I heard quite a bit of commotion coming from my nearby neighbor’s house.  A couple of women were running out of house in hysterics, and an ambulance arrived at the house for a reason I was unsure of.  I didn’t want to pry too much, so I didn’t inquire about what was going on.  A couple of days later I was walking home from school when a fellow teacher told me that what had happened was that my neighbor had collapsed and was taken to the hospital.  The next day she passed away.  I had never met her before, but I found out her name was Dorica Amasi and she was 58 years old.  She was a teacher at the nearby Primary school and her husband was a retired teacher who taught at Mzumbe Secondary School for many years.  Apparently their son had suddenly died back in February, and when I asked what her cause of death was, people said she was still in so much despair from the loss of her son that it was probably one of the reasons, yet no one knew exactly why she died.

In typical Mzumbe (and African) tradition, the memorial service was a big community affair.  Starting on Friday afternoon, people came from all over the country to pay their respects, and one thing that I learned is that it’s common tradition for many people to sleep over at the house to comfort the family and those mourning.  Since my house was nearby, I could observe a lot of what was going on first hand, and from Friday up to Sunday there was lots of music and people gathering.  For the most part it was a more festive atmosphere rather than a somber one.  It was less the mourning of a death than the celebration of a life.  Even at 4AM on Saturday night I could hear music and singing coming from the house.

On Sunday afternoon, the entire Mzumbe community gathered at the house for a meal and a memorial service.  The yard was filled with children, students, teachers, parents, family members and friends.  There were probably over 200 people there, all to pay their respects.  And like myself, most of them didn’t know the departed too well, if at all.  It was a humble sight to see the whole community gather together to show their support for the family and also pay their respects for a fellow community member.  After lunch was served, the coffin containing the body of Dorica was carried down to the front of the assembly and one by one, everyone in attendance went by to pay their last respects, not unlike a wake service in the U.S.

After the memorial service, almost all of the people in attendance traveled into town by car or bus to the cemetery where Dorica was laid to rest.  At the burial site, there were some words and blessings by a pastor, as well as a lot of traditional African hymms that were sung by the crowd.  Once she was lowered into her grave, one by one each of the men present took turns shoveling dirt into the grave to cover the coffin.  Once this was finished her family put some final flowers and wreaths on her grave and the funeral ended and everyone traveled home.

Of course a funeral is never an occasion that anyone hopes to attend, but for me it was without a doubt a humbling cultural experience.  The outpouring of support and celebration for the life of a departed community member was an amazing thing to observe.  It was a true expression of the level of humanity that exists in Africa that I have not experienced often in the United States.  Only in Africa can you see how the death of a fellow human being can become a true celebration of life.