Wednesday 10th May 2006 - Maurin has gone to Peponi (Paradise)

Today was definitely the saddest I have had so far in Africa.

A number of teachers and students went to the funeral of Maurin. In total, there were around 45 – 50 of us to represent the school.

We took the bus with Maurin’s class and pulled up outside a field, where a type of tent had been erected using long sticks and several canopies. Inside were seats of all descriptions (some wooden, some covered in fabric, others were plastic); many looked as though they had come from people’s homes.

When we got there, around 150 people were gathered. But over the next hour at least another hundred arrived. Most were women but there were men standing at the back. The women had large pieces of fabric (like sarongs) wrapped around their lower and upper body, and most had a piece of fabric covering their hair.

When we arrived, the group were singing hymns. They were the most beautiful songs in Swahili. From what I could understand, they were similar to the type of songs we would sing at a funeral – asking God to look after the deceased, saying rest in peace etc.

Then, for a long time there was a silence that was unbroken by any sound. It was a very peaceful and respectful mood.

Then the priest started talking. He talked about the kingdom of God and children. With my limited Swahili, I couldn’t understand a lot of it and yet, I didn’t need to. I had a fairly good idea of what it meant and the overall tone.

After the priest had spoken for a little while and some more songs, everyone started to file up toward the front of the church toward the coffin. After the adults had paid their respects, we escorted the children up. I hadn’t realized the coffin would be open and I don’t think the children had either because most of them became hysterical and wailed in the most heart-wrenching way to see their friend lying lifeless in a coffin. And as they cried, the rest of the church erupted in the most mournful wail. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a sad sound in my life.

For my part, it was incredibly sad. I have never seen a corpse before and this one was particularly heart-breaking. She looked even smaller than I remembered her. She had been embalmed in a waxy, oily paste. Some people felt she looked peaceful. I couldn’t say that because I was so shocked by seeing this fragile little body in a coffin - the body of a child who had been playing only a few days before and now was gone.

Afterward, Maurin was buried in a banana field, just beside where the funeral was held. Students and family/ friends threw flowers once the coffin had been nailed shut and covered with dirt. After some short speeches, we took a very quiet bunch of students back to school.

I think it was good for the students to say goodbye to their friend. And in Africa, death is so much more common. But nothing could lessen the pain of Maurin’s death today.

When we were discussing this tragedy later, one of our askari (guards) commented something to the effect of "Ana Peponi sasa" meaning she is in Paradise now. I think he's right.