Grieving

This entry is a bit about death, funerals and the grieving process in Malawi. It’s educational and interesting, but if you’re not in the mood for it, I suggest you come back later.

I have realised that grieving is truly a culturally diverse thing. I have been to too many funerals in my 22 months here, much more than I’d care to count, a number far surpassing those I’ve been to in my entire life in the states. This of course makes sense and I was expecting it coming to a developing country with very poor medical services and an extremely high HIV/AIDs rate.
Now at a funeral, activities are carried on much the same way as they are in the states. Prior to the funeral and burial ceremony, close family members and friends gather to make preparations for the deceased. In Malawi, a house is used in which the body is kept until the burial. The body is prepared by the women in the family and wrapped up in many cloths before being placed into a coffin. The men in the family have a special role to play as well; they spend the night before the burial digging a grave for their loved one at a nearby graveyard. When one attends a funeral, they are expected to bring flour in exchange for the food they will receive or to bring their own food to cook for the day. Generally, I attend funerals with the teacher’s wives at my school and they take care of this for me. That reminds me, as you may have inferred, everything is gender segregated at a funeral. The men have their own jobs, the women theirs and each group grieves amongst itself. Thus, when I attend a funeral I spend the day with the teacher’s wives or my female students.

On the day of the burial, people go into the house to pay their respects to the deceased, much the same as they do in the states. There is a series of prayers, sermons and singing for a good hour or so before heading to the graveyard. People offer money to the family who has lost a loved one, a form of condolence, something to help with the costly expenses perhaps from medical bills, transport of loved ones to the funeral, the coffin expense, etc. This offering can be as little as MK20, equivalent to about 13 cents or exceeding MK500 about $3.33 depending on the person, the situation, relation to the family and so on.

I still don’t have a complete understanding of the crying that takes place at a funeral. When I was in training, I was told by one of our Malawian trainers that Malawians don’t cry, except when attending a funeral. I guess it’s a special sign of emotion reserved for an important occasion. Those who know the deceased very well, particularly close relatives will wail and cry, almost exaggeratedly, throughout the entire funeral process. To be honest I don’t know how they do it, I can’t imagine crying for two days the way that they do. It’s an interesting cultural practice and I am curious has to how crying is involved in funerals in other cultures throughout the world. Until recently, I have never cried at a funeral here in Malawi. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t been comfortable or more likely because I haven’t known a person well enough to honestly do so. I’ve come close, especially at the funeral’s of small children who have died for unfathomable reasons had they been in the states.

A few weeks ago, one of my Form Three girls passed away. A child whom I knew well, she was active in my Girls Club, lived at the school in our hostels and I have taught her for nearly two years. I was so upset when this happened and it’s when I realized how differently I grieve from my Malawian counterparts. For instance, all I wanted was to be hugged and to hug every one of my girls, but touching in that way doesn’t happen in the culture here. I was greatly comforted though, by the solidarity of my teachers and students. We were together for two days, walking back and forth from the girl’s home, purchasing a coffin, singing, praying and cooking. It’s a lovely feeling of communalism when you go through something like that here. I don’t know that I’ve experienced such in the states before.

On another note, I recently had death in my family at home, as my Aunt Carole passed away a few weeks ago. When my mother told me over the phone I felt sorry that I was so far away and not with those I love to comfort them, to see them and to allow them to comfort me. So, I walked over to my headteacher’s house, told them what had happened and cried. The next day, nearly all of the teacher’s wives came to my house unexpectedly. They brought me small sums of money as a condolence for me and my family and prayed for me. It was a small gesture, with a very big meaning behind it. A few weeks later, several local leaders in my community, Group Village Headmen and Village Headmen came to see me with the same purpose. They prayed for my family, offered money and spoke to me, as elders, on the importance of honouring someone older than us in our family who has died, because no matter how intimate or close our interactions may have been, in one way or another we have learned our values, morals and lessons from those who have come before us.

I’m grateful that I have integrated into my community, that I can consider the people here my family and friends and that they consider me the same, even to the extent that they consider my entire family in America, whom they’ve never met, a part of their own family too.