Funerals

So this past weekend, I went another funeral, it’s my fourth in as many months, and no, I didn’t know any of the deceased. Funerals are written into the fabric of Batswanan life. (Quick language lesson one person from the Tswana tribe is a Motswana, the plural is Batswana). Anyway, Saturday mornings are funeral mornings, I have seen three funerals at once in the same graveyard. It was rather interesting to watch as the ministers would trade off and the songs would alternate.

Funerals begin with vigils at the house of the deceased. On Friday, the day before the funeral, there is much hub-bub as a cow is slaughtered, a tent set-up, massive amounts of food is prepared and an overnight vigil of singing begins. Sometime during the week the grave is dug by the younger men of the community.

In our training village, I was there as the vigil was beginning, which takes place when the coffin is brought back to the deceased house. The coffin must come in the front door, and as the front door hadn’t been used in years, we had to remove the lock in order for it to open. Then some prayers are said over the coffin, a kind of last goodbye and in this case, the coffin was then taken back to another house, because two brothers had died and the preparations were taking place in the other house.

The coffins were carried in. First, through the men who stood on the outside of the house and then through tent, where the women were all holding candles and singing.

Jackets are required of men and women’s heads are supposed to be covered throughout the entire funeral process as a sign of respect. It doesn’t matter what the jacket or covering looks like, but they must be there.

Friday nights you can hear if there is a funeral near you by the singing. The singing isn’t too mournful, but it’s not joyful either. At times, it is somewhat eerie, at other times almost comforting to realize the sense of community here.

The morning dawns and the services start. During winter, the services start at 7 am, during summer (now) the services start at 6 am. Funerals are one of the few events that actually start on time. The service usually takes place in a tent and consists of several speeches, prayers, and songs for the dead, outlined in a program. The service can last anywhere from an hour to two and then the coffin is brought to the waiting hearse, which can be a van, a modified truck, or a khumbi with seats removed.

The procession proceeds to the graveyard, with some people walking and others driving their cars.

At the graveyard there is a tent for the family and the rest of the people gather round, usually separating by gender. The minister/priest continues the service there. Singing and a few speeches are made. Depending on the funeral, some speeches actually make the people laugh.
As the casket is lowered, songs continue. The men of the community, as a sign of respect, share four to five shovels between them and take turns filling the grave. Singing persists thoughout this, however at one funeral, as the casket was being lowered about six people burst into tears and left the graveside to wail on the perimeter of the graveyard.

Sometimes many funerals are going on at the same graveyard, so there is cooperation between the ministers on who sings when, with the other congregation staying silent while the other sings.

After the grave has been filled and covered with rocks, it is time for the unveiling of the tombstone, if there is one. This literally involves taking cloth off of the tombstone and then putting it in place.

Then the crowd breaks and heads back to the house, where the feasting begins. Traditional food is served. Pap (Porridge from Corn meal, kind of like grits but more solid), meat, and some kind of vegetable salad thing. Drinks include fruit juice and in my new area Gemmer, a ginger drink that is quite sensational, literally. It kind of burns while going down, but leaves you feeling very refreshed.

In my training area, we had traditional beer after the funeral, which was really thick and seemed like a meal and a half in itself. It was brewed during the week of the funeral and tastes like a combination of sorghum an beer, but it's not bad. It seems some community brew this beer, called bojalwa, and others do not, as I haven't seen any at my site, but it was at the funeral in our training village.

Funerals on the whole are quite different from those in the states, being more a community event than a private affair. Rather that have the graveyards on the outskirts of town, the graveyards are small and part of it. It seems from every house, there is a cemetery within walking distance.
These graveyards dot the landscape making it very evident that death is just another part of life here.
I'd like to thank my friend Adam for the use of one of his pictures... it's the one at the top, when the grave was being dug. I wasn't around for that, hence I have no pictures of it.