As I returned from
my trip to Maseru a
few weeks ago, one of my favorite grandmothers and neighbor came out
to greet me. She immediately told me that “Ntate Mooli, o
hlokahetse.” This translates to Ntate Mooli, he is gone but still
needed. It is the local way of saying someone has passed away. Even
as she told me that this wonderfully welcoming old man and neighbor
of mine had died in my absence, a parade of boys and men were carrying
things like a radio and television out of his widow's hut to store
somewhere else.
Over the past two weeks, I did not see
his widow once as culture dictates the widow sit idle on the floor in
the house until the burial occurs. Neighbors, friends, and other
family members do everything for the widow. As a result, I saw many
other women outside her hut; cooking, washing, and just visiting.
This past Thursday morning, the burial
preparations began in earnest. Early in the morning, over thirty
village men gathered to cut trees for all the cooking over the next
few days. They rigged a tent over the unfinished house to provide
shelter for people cooking as it could not be done in the hut. The
women gathered to start cooking for the next few days. When the body
was brought from the mortuary, its sealed casket was placed in the
hut and the men headed down to dig the grave. Next they put up a tent
in the family's yard for the funeral service.
Friday, preparations continued
throughout the day. Before dusk, those close to the family joined
them for tebelo. Tebelo is an
overnight gathering that allows people to share all kinds of thoughts
and memories about the deceased. It is the designated time to discuss
topics like how the person died and other tough subjects that might
cause tears. It goes on until dawn.
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The bull was slaughtered at dawn and its meet immediately
used in cooking and feeding people. |
At
dawn on Saturday, the men slaughter a cow—a bull if the deceased is
male, a heifer if the deceased is female. The meat is used for the
funeral meal. Depending on the clan (The Basotho are comprised of a
number of clans. My village is mostly the Basia or cat clan), the
cow's skin is used differently. Some clans place it over the casket
before the dirt to keep their loved one warm in the afterlife. Some
treat the hide then place it over the grave later in time. And others
treat it then use it in other family ceremonies.
The
women immediately begin cooking both a meal for folks there before
the service and for the funeral meal. Someone is sent to tell the
chief what time the funeral will begin. In this case, Ntate Moojane
came by while I was outside with our chief trying to learn what time
I should go. He said the funeral would begin at 10, leaving my only
thirty minutes to bath and get ready. Thankfully, this is Africa and
I did not need to rush.
 |
The women cook the funeral meal (and many other meals)
outside on open fires in large cast iron cookware. When there
is a funeral or party, neighbors share their cookpots |
I
arrived a little after 10:30 and immediately knew I was too early. I
was the only woman already dressed in my Seshoeshoe dress. The women
insisted I sit down. They brought me
papa, beef, and then motoho
(sorghum porridge).
An
hour later, I moved to the tent where I was adopted by the Catholic
“choir,” most of whom I know from both church and the village.
Thankfully, this also meant I knew more than half of the songs we
ended up singing so I was not dead-weight as an honorary choir member!
The
funeral began with the choir becoming a singing procession from the
tent to the hut housing the casket, widow, and her closest family and
friends. We followed the two priests, who entered to pray over the
casket before sprinkling it with holy water. We filled the tiny hut.
After the prayer, we stepped out and lined the path so the casket
could be brought through then we continued singing as we followed it
back to the tent.
First
was the Catholic service then the more traditional accolades and
speeches from friends, village officials, and family members. Songs
were sung in between each speaker. After three hours, it was time for
the burial. Men from the family carried the casket from the family's
home to the burial plot, nearly a quarter mile away and down a rugged
hillside. The entirety of those in attendance followed; over 150
people by this time.
At the
gravesite, those men and boys related to the deceased first place a
shovelful of dirt on the grave. The order is set as oldest family to
youngest family, however, within each family the youngest goes first
and the oldest goes last. After the ceremonial shovels, any and all
men and boys add dirt while the women continue singing. Gradually
people peel off and return to the house. As they return, each washed
their hands in a basin of water. Those that are Christian wash in
plain water while the rest wash in water that has chunks of aloe cut
into it.
Those
of us in the choir bypassed all the basins when we returned, instead
walking back into the hut where the widow had resumed her seat on the
floor. We prayed for her then returned to the basins to wash. After
that we ate the meal, including beef from the cow slaughtered at
dawn. Once done eating and visiting, we drifted back to our homes.
On
Sunday, the family gathers again to put on mourning or ho
roala thapo. Ho roala thapo
varies by clan, but it always includes the family kneeling on an
animal hide and the cutting of hair. In some clans it is only a
patch of hair, in others the entire head is shaved. As with the
shoveling of dirt at the gravesite, the older families go first but
within each family the order is youngest to oldest.
While
in mourning, family members are expected to spend a lot of time at
home and to be quieter than usual. After a month or more (depending
again on clan), the family regathers to remove mourning or ho
rola thapo. This begins with the
slaughtering of a sheep. The undigested last meal of the sheep is
removed. A small portion is smeared on each article of clothing
belonging to the deceased. These clothes are then given out to the
family members.
For
most of the family, life returns to normal after ho rola thapo. For
the female next of kin—be it a widow, mother, or sister—however,
the grieving continues until winter arrives. During this time, she
stays home, does not raise her voice, and does little to no work
depending on the availability of others to complete necessary tasks.
When
winter arrives, she returns to her original place (as a married
woman, she lives in the village of her husband's family). Once there,
a sheep is slaughtered. The bile from the sheep is mixed with water.
The woman is shaved of hair and then washed with the mixture by her
mother or another elder female in order to remove the curse of death
from her family. After she is washed, her family puts her in new
cloths. When she returns to her village, she leaves behind the
clothes she arrived in as well as all the restrictions of mourning.
