La Tristesse #2 – New Title: The Deceased

I've already talked about death. Sorry to bring it up again. If you followed my blogs before you'll know my other one was called La Tristesse, hence the title.

When you think of culture and how it manifests itself funerals are usually at the end of the list, if at all. I have been here a week and already two people that David knows have died. While morbid, the opportunity to attend one of the funeral ceremonies was a chance to experience this facet of Cameroonian life. At the time I was not really given a choice in my participation (especially considering that one ceremony lasted 5 hours!), however I appreciate the value of being there. Aside from offering his condolences, David explained to me that the particular funeral we went to was a way to network for our NGO. I am still unclear as to how exactly David is related to this man, but Mr. Ambroise Mvogo Enama was the Minister of Planning and Development. A powerful man to a small NGO, he apparently had helped our school get funding at one point. As a result of being deeply entrenched in the government (after being an ambassador in several countries), there were several influential people present to pay their respects, thereby making the funeral a place “to be seen.”

Yesterday I went to the first part of the event, the typical funeral proceedings. This followed much of what happens in the US at a catholic church, although this was in the courtyard of the hospital. At the end there were a couple of hysterical women and children wildly keening. I also noted that apparently for large events an “African print” is chosen and made available to all family and close friends. You can then bring it to your tailor to have a matching outfit with countless others participating in the event. So there were about 20 men and women wearing matching outfits. It was cute. Following the mass there was a vigil and another 2 hour mass at a different location. Thank God I didn’t need to go to that.

Today was much more dramatic. So after a morning NGO conglomerate seminar on HIV/AIDS David and I departed for the second day of “activities.” This was held on the outskirts of Yaounde in a cleared forested area. Since this was a family of means huge tents half-circled the clearing and hundreds of plastic chairs were set up underneath. In the middle was a tent engulfed in fake flowers and situated for the placement of the open casket. Speakers were set up around the perimeter, all managed by the central music system: an ancient desktop computer hauled in for the occasion.

As people slowly filtered in to the area 8 women [dressed in the matching outfits I was talking about] covered in vines and leaves started dancing and singing/blowing a whistle in the middle. They each carried a branch of leaves which they used similarly to pom poms. Their dance was part of the traditional welcome for the dead body and the family. About halfway through this process 3 men sat down at their hollowed wood drums and proceeded to rock out in coordination with the dancing and singing women. Once the funeral party arrived the intensity of the dancing, singing, and drumming heightened. After about ten minutes of this, people would go to the middle and say a few words in Bamilike (I’m not sure this is the language, either way, the family’s ethnic group’s language). Sometimes it was call and response, other times it seemed a reflection (again, speculation since I have no clue what was being said).

Following this was the mens’ turn to do a dance/chase of the male descendants of the deceased. This occurred around the tents with the accompaniment of the drumming. When they stopped in the center next to the casket, it became time to ask the village chief, “how did this man die?” The chief then had to respond with a short description of his life and then conclusion of the cause of his death [some long-term illness]. Only then did the priests take over and go through an entire mass again, only it was mostly in the ethnic language I didn’t understand. I am somewhat ashamed to say (but not really), I plopped on my sunglasses and took little five-minute naps throughout this part.

In closing, the family and a big cheese Minister gave eulogies. The body was then taken right past the corner of the tents and laid in the ground. By this time the women dancers from the beginning had started their whooping and singing; I guess as a final touch to the whole process.

After not having had the chance to eat all day plus being the new white American diplomat to FAPEFE (my NGO) I got home exhausted. Tomorrow, I’m sure more adventures will come: church and an AIESEC party. Can’t wait to meet the others! I’m also moving to David’s house to stay with his family until the apartment is finished (if ever). More changes. Love to all.