Death and Mourning

It seems recently I have been confronted with death more than usual; both in Tanzania and in America. I do not live in the villages where AIDS takes a major toll, but death is still more frequent here in Songea than it is at home.

Of course my grandmother died a few weeks ago, and here in Tanzania a couple of my students have lost a parent, a fellow PCV lost a parent, my Peace Corps coordinator lost his oldest daughter this week, and just before I left for America, my next door neighbor, Mtega, lost his sister, who was probably around 30 years old.

Although I never met his sister, her death was my first close up experience of death in Tanzania. On the afternoon that she died neighbors and members of the school community gathered at Mtega’s house to await the arrival of the grieving mother and family returning from the hospital. We sat together for hours, waiting, not knowing when they would arrive, by wanting to make sure the house was full of people to support the family when the came.

All the furniture in the living room was moved out and grass mats were placed on the floor. Finally after dark, the family arrived, wailing and crying, and collapsed inside the house on the grass mats. Women comforted the women and men consoled the men of the family including Mtega. The men built a campfire in front of the house, while the women congregated behind the house around their own campfire. The only difference being that the women’s fire had rice and stew cooking over it. The neighbor women had brought pots and dishes and contributed food from home to feed everyone gathered at the house. I finally went home around 10:30 pm, but many people stayed at the house with the family all through the night.

Tanzanians do not let the family grieve alone. For the next couple of days there was always a circle of men sitting around the fire pit in front of the house, as well as a group of women chatting and telling stories. As the hours and days passed the mood of the gathering became lighter; gradually less mourning and more laughter was heard.

About three days after the death, the body was brought to the house and a small funeral service was held with singing of hymns as the coffin was taken away to be buried. I think only the close family went to bury the body.

The way people gathered at Mtega’s house reminded me of my granddad’s funeral about 15 years ago. For a few days after my Granddad’s funeral all of his children and grandchildren and other relatives gathered at his house to grieve together and support my grandmother. It was certainly a sad time, but also a wonderful time of learning about my grandfather’s life, being with family, and playing with cousins. Also my grandma’s funeral recently, was a sad but special time. Most of her family spent one last night at her house grieving together, but also remembering her and enjoying each other’s company.