The Funeral

My boss’ father passed away the day I arrived here and the funeral was planned for Saturday, my first weekend in Acornhoek. My boss’ family lives in Hapani a 3 hour drive north of Acornhoek. Seeing as I am the only one at work with a car or who even has a license I was asked to drive.

I was also informed on Friday evening that I would need to pick everyone up at their house because it is unsafe to walk alone at night. I stopped for a second and wondered why on earth they were talking about picking them up at night. It was only then that I found out the funeral started at 6am and we would be leaving Acornhoek at 3:00am – awesome...I have never heard of a funeral that started that early but I quickly realized why.

We arrived safely In Hapani and headed straight to church with 100 other people attending the funeral. The church was packed and we sat 6 to a bench that should fit 4. They had air conditioners on the walls but for some reason no one seems to use them – still working on figuring that out. Regardless, it was already 87 outside and probably hotter in the church. After 2 hours of singing, praying, and talking we left the church for the grave site.

It was a beautiful drive up the steepest mountain I had seen in a while. The mountains in the area are beautiful and the fields of trees and maize go for miles. Unfortunately I also saw something else that I was not so happy to see. On one side of the road there was an enormous house with a huge fence around it and directly across from the house was a structure the size of an outhouse made out of wood, tin, and trash bags. I watched as a women came out of this structure with her baby wrapped around her back and a huge container of water. The disparity was astounding and so sad to see.

As I sat quiet watching the scene I decided to bring it up with my co-workers. They all acknowledge the discrepancies and the discussion soon turned to apartheid. The conversation was interesting as people here are so open and they voice their concerns with the past and their expectations of the future with regards to race relations so openly. They are never scared of offending someone and when they do they talk it through with them. A nice change to what I am used to.

After 30mins we arrived at the top of the mountain and before we finished our conversation a guy knocked on my window. As I cranked my window down it was clear that the man was agitated. I didn’t understand a word he said and the girls in the car quickly intervened. His mood changed quickly and the girls handed me a scarf to put on my head.

When we got out of the car, I was told that this church required people to cover their heads. Christianity is a huge part of people’s lives here. They have uniforms for church and each church has its own costumes, I guess covering heads is one of them. This church also doesn’t allow girls to wear pants – of course I was wearing pants. Fortunately the girls were able to get me in playing the dumb American card. Being an American here is actually quite helpful – they love us.

It was now 95 degrees and we were out in the hot sun – it was then that I realized why the funeral started a 6:00am. For the next hour we stood at the grave site while they completely buried his father one shovel full of dirt at a time. There was more singing and a lot of waiting but all in all the spirit of the day was celebratory – honoring and reflecting on the life of a great man. Hopefully, I will not have to attend any more funeral while I am here but, in reality everyone I have meet has a relative or loved one with HIV and at least one family member in the hospital at this time.