A Death in the Village

An old woman died in the village a few days ago (12/27/09). She was one of the matriarchs here and has 9 children living in the village, and virtually countless grand and grand-grandchildren. All normal activity came to a halt and the village began to mourn her. She did not go to the Baptist church here so the mourning was very traditional which has been influenced little by the church. Dozens of people gathered in the “dead house” to tell stories about her and her life, followed by music and dancing all night long.

The second day, many more people arrived in the village and the body was prepared for burial. After washing, the body was placed in a coffin and then wrapped in colorful folded bolts of cloth, leaving her face exposed. She was covered with perfume and baby powder so as to make her rest very comfortable. The coffin was then sealed and placed on a pedestal in the dead house and a hammock hung in front of it so family could sleep next to her a last time. Then there was another night of music, drinking and dancing (which would make sleeping next to the body somewhat improbable) with many libations made to the deceased. This is done with palm “rum” which is 90% (180 proof) alcohol, cut with a little water. A small amount is first poured on the ground for the one who passed and the rest is consumed. It’s hard to say one drinks this stuff because half of it volatilizes before you can swallow (thankfully). We made to about 2 in the morning which is when many of the older (and wiser, it turns out…they were sleeping from about 7 til 2) folks came to party literally until the sun comes up.

The burial day was two days later and we were invited to attend. The body is carried from the dead house to a boat and this is when most of the crying and wailing occur. Women especially wail and yell their sorrow at the passing of their loved one. Village elders and close family ride in the boat with the coffin and another boat for the rest of us followed. We were all admonished before we left to finish crying before starting the actual burial. All sorrow was to be left in the river. A colorful flag was flown on the coffin boat and several shotgun volleys were fired to announce the passing. Upon arrival at the burial place, a path was cleaned where the coffin was to pass. It was placed just outside the boat while a proper burial site was selected and the grave was dug. All people for whom this was a first burial were asked to identify themselves. We didn’t think much of this at the time…As the hole was dug, several rituals were performed and more stories told. Overall it was a happy gathering with people laughing and enjoying each other’s presence. When the hole was finished, the first timers were told that their eyes must be opened in order to not fear the spirits of the dead. They then tied each newcomer to a small post in front of the grave by means of a vine slipped over their wrist. Then the above mentioned “rum” was poured onto some leaves and squeezed from the leaves into our eyes. As you can imagine, this was fairly painful. Fortunately, right after they try to blind you, they flush your eyes with water (also squeezed from the same leaves). Then, while you’re still tied by one wrist, they beat you with sticks and you’re supposed to fight back and try to hit the people hitting you. The “beating” has become ritualized so you could barely feel it (especially compared to the fire burning toward our brains from our eye sockets), but when some of the older guys had their eyes “re-opened”, the beating got a lot more serious. After this, the coffin was lowered into the ground and various additional rites were performed. The whole burial took about 6 hours.

The woman who died was always very kind to us and welcomed us to sit and talk with her whenever we passed her house. She would help us with language and was gentle in her teaching. Although we didn’t know her well, it was surprising how strongly we felt at her passing. Clearly nothing like what the villagers were feeling, but the sense of loss is palpable and the pain felt by the people we do know more closely has rippled through us as well.