Five Days At A Burial - part 2 of 4

It was five days at a funeral, but a lifetime worth of lessons, encouragement, and love. - part 2 of 4

On December 29 Alex was traveling 30 miles away to “take his wife.” Up until this point Alex has been a single man, but he arranged to marry a young women from his home village on this particular day. Marriage in Mundri is very different than marriage in America, and very seldom involves any type of ceremony in this setting. So Alex borrowed my motorcycle and off he went to pick up his new wife. He was so very excited, yet nervous as well. He was not entirely sure the family of the bride would still agree, and he did not know for sure if his new wife would be ready, and he was not sure his home would be good enough. It had been a few months since he had seen this woman and made the arrangements with her family.

I saw Alex the next day, and immediately I could tell he was sad. He told me that his wife-to-be had an unexpected death in her family the very day she was supposed to go with him, so she could not come just now. Her family told him that he would have to wait until January 11 to come again and take her as his wife. Though he was visibly sad, he was encouraged that the family agreed to allow him to come on January 11.

Later in the day I went to visit Alex and my friend Makons Billi, Alex’s cousin, at their shops – which are right next to each other. Billi told me the news that his cousin, and Alex’s cousin, Woola Woola, had just died and the burial was to be at Alex’s home. So immediately I left with Billi and we went to Alex’s home to pay our respect.

Woola Woola was in his early 40’s and known as the town drunkard. He was also know as ‘cling-on’ for his ability to literally latch onto you and not let you go until you pay him some small money. My first experience with this man was in March 2010, shortly after I arrived in Mundri. One day while I was walking in the market and talking with a friend, he literally ran up to me and wrapped his entire body around my legs, requesting me to give him one pound (35 cents) before he would let me go. I continued to talk with my friend, though I could no longer walk, and found the situation to be quite humorous somehow. I declined to give him the money as he was visibly drunk and reeked of alcohol. Eventually he let go of me and that was the end of that. I continued to see this man around town, but was always a bit cautious to keep my distance lest he lunge for my legs again!

The day after Christmas, December 26, Woola Woola was beaten severely in Mundri and died on December 29. No one knows exactly what happened, but most were very saddened to hear of the events and the passing of a man that everyone new and recognized well. I did not know until that day when I talked with Billi and learned of the death, but this man is Alex’s cousin. Because the man never married and had no real property of his own, and because the man’s sister, Alex’s aunt, lives in Alex’s compound it was decided he would be buried at Alex’s house -literally right next to his house. This meant for Alex, as the head of the household, that he would be in charge of arranging and paying for everything. Thus began five of the most memorable, encouraging, tiring, and truly bonding days of my life.

On the day when Woola Woola was found dead many people gathered at Alex’s home. People from all over Mundri and beyond came to morn and pay respect to his family. I was there as family, neighbors, and friends started to dig the grave, just a few feet outside of Alex’s front door. When someone dies from Mundri he is usually buried within the compound of his home or a relative’s home. Many homes throughout Mundri are scattered with stone or concrete grave sites, a visible remembrance of the one that died...