Funerals in Lesotho

Death is a part of life as we all know but death seems to occur all to often here in Lesotho. Funerals are a common event that take place every weekend (you can tell one is taking place by the big tents that are set up like you might see at a graduation or wedding ceremony back in America). I have decided to write this blog on the tradition of funerals because there is not a Saturday that goes by that I don't see those tents. I myself have only attended one funeral since I arrived but I have had the opportunity to attend many. I choose to be picky about attending because all of my Saturdays would be occupied otherwise. The one funeral I did attend was for my friend and neighbor, Ausi Maleshoane. She was a member of the local support group made up of People Living with HIV/AIDS. She was a very small, thin woman who always greeted people with a smile even if it was obvious she was not feeling well that day. She became sick (a common cold or TB) around Christmas/New Year and eventually went to the hospital. It was there that she passed away having finally lost the battle with AIDS. She was 37 years old. I had the honor to participate and help the family in all the preparations since Ausi Maleshoane was a friend and neighbor of mine. FRIDAY: The Bo-'M'e (women) have been busy all week brewing joala (local beer) and gathering all the food and firewood for the big feast. My main task for the day was to help peel and chop carrots, onions, and potatoes. The work went quickly with so many Bo'M'e helping. The Bo-'N'tate (men) go to the cemetery early in the morning to dig the grave. They come back and have a plate of food and joala before they get ready to slaughter the animals. A goat is first slaughtered in the name of the one who has passed and then they move onto the cow. This task is reserved for the men only but the women help clean the intestines out which are later eaten only by the members of the family. The various parts of the dead animals are brought to the cooking hut and laid out on the dead animals hide. The women begin to prepare and cook the meat on the open fires. There is a meal offered to those who have helped with preparations throughout the day. Like I said earlier, some parts of the meat are reserved for just the family members (intestines and liver for example). The family included me in this category and I had the privilege of eating both the intestines and the liver. The intestines were very good but the liver I did not enjoy. Have you ever eaten meat from an animal that was killed 2 hours before? Fresh meat for sure. People gradually start to wander back to their homes while others linger or return back later in the evening for an all night vigilance with the body. There are periods of singing and praying that last until 5 in the morning. I forgot to mention the body arrives in a van that afternoon and is placed inside the rondaval where the mourners lay beside the coffin all night. I myself did not take part in the all night vigilance but was woken up many times throughout the night from the singing. SATURDAY: People begin to arrive by 10 or 11am Saturday morning where the guests of the funeral get a chance to view the body. As many people as possible cram into the small hut where the body is. There is a lit candle on the top of the partially opened coffin. People one by one circle the coffin and view the body and then everyone sings and prays. This is where I viewed my first dead body. After the viewing the coffin is brought out under the tent where the service is held. There is a program where the pastor, family, and friends all get a chance to speak. Before anyone speaks the whole crowd breaks out and sings for the speaker. The mother of Ausi Maleshoane asked me to speak at the service. I was reluctant but agreed to speak (in sesotho). It was a bit nerve racking but I think people liked it. After the service the coffin is loaded back into the van where close family cram in around the coffin to go to the cemetery. There is a procession that follows the van to the grave site. Here at the grave site there is more singing and praying. The pastor sprinkles the first granules of dirt over the coffin following with the youngest male relative to the oldest each with a shovel full of dirt. After, all the men take part in filling the grave. The procession then goes back to the location of the service. Before anyone enters the compound all have to wash their hands with fresh water to cleanse yourself. After everyone feasts on the abundance of meat, vegetables, potatoes, and joala. The party goes on well into the night. SUNDAY: The women of the village of the deceased person come together to clean everything left behind by that person. Some women stay behind and clean the inside of the house, smearing fresh dung on the floor and others take all the clothes, blankets, and shoes (of the deceased) to the river of the next village over to wash. They say it is bad luck to wash in that person's own village because the spirit of that person will linger on. They always say they go to the river (instead of the tap) because the river is flowing and it will take anything that is left over, away. I went to the river with about 6 or 7 other women and a bucket of joala. After everything is washed we go back to the house and sit inside the cooking hut. There is still uncooked meat left over from the slaughter; a leg here, a head there. The flies are intense. The women that helped to wash and clean all share a big bowl of papa and cooked meat and a never ending supply of joala. The big cups of joala are passed around. No one has their own cup of joala. Two and a half hours later I am full, a bit drunk, and overwhelmed by the constant sesotho chatter between the women. I get up to go with my host mother, 'M'e Mathabo and officially leave the remnants of the funeral behind. This is a funeral in Lesotho.