Most interesting was a funeral in Aboland, where Raphael is from. It was a village farther into the bush than Mangamba. Ruth didn't actually know the person, but "The Wives and Daughters of Aboland" needed to be there because the deceased was a relative of one of them. It's important to the family to have lots of people at the funeral to say, "This was an important life." The funeral was in the yard of the home, which is the dominant place to have a funeral. It was a large home, though I didn't get to see inside. Ruth said one of the sons, who is a customs officer, built the compound for the whole family to come back to. There are several buildings. The most interesting was a separate, special room to receive the coffin. We didn't see that part of the service, but I understand the casket then went down, under this crypt sort of room for burial on site.
Anyway, we got there a bit late, of course. There were tents all around the house and hundreds and hundreds of people including many “notables,” traditional tribal chiefs and related persons. The service was conducted off of an elevated porch. It was very high and I couldn't actually see into it. Someone hustled around and found us some chairs in the shade of a carport sort of thing, a pass-through to the backyard. There were the speeches by family members that you expect at funerals most anywhere, tears, etc.. Mostly I fell into my stupor of not understanding anything since it was all in French or Abo. Then there was an offering. I guess it goes to the family to help pay the expenses of the shindig. Much to everyone's surprise and audible grumbling, the pastor said a second offering was being taken for the church's building plans. It was a sparse collection! Much to my dismay, in a prayer following the offering, the pastor asked God to make the people more generous next time an offering was taken!
I got a bit of video of the family processing to the backyard for the dinner. There was then a strange sort of solitary dancer passing by us, looking very traditional. I couldn't understand his role or purpose and neither could Ruth. By the way others received him, Ruth decided he was a deranged, uninvited visitor.
After the service we were contemplating leaving promptly (Ruth had said we would not stay long.) but then were asked to "come up higher" as it were. Ruth, always addressedas “Madame Titi,” her friend that had accompanied us and I were escorted to one of the covered banquet tables right next to the table of the notables. I was able to greet the Mayor of Souza to whom I had presented the microscope from Kearny two years ago. Beer was distributed and then, eventually, we were invited to the food line. Well, this is where my experience really gets dicey. As we moved forward in the line several people crowded in between Ruth and me. By this time it was getting more crowded, then chaotic. Come to find out, we had been led to the tail end of the serving tables, not the beginning. Other people were coming from the other end. So when the two groups came, there was chaos. Event coordinators tried to get my line to reorganize itself by going to the beginning of the serving tables. By this time Ruth and Elvire, six or seven people ahead of me, had gotten entirely through the line. People wouldn't cooperate with the organizers. The press of the crowd got tighter, and louder. So I stepped out of the line myself and went to the other end. But by this time, people at that end were crowding and cutting in, and reaching over each other, etc. Louder and louder. At first I said to myself, "OK, this is a cultural experience. I'll just join in this game, however it is played, and get some food." But with the press of the bodies, the heat, the loud voices, and my becoming increasingly self-conscious about being the only white person in the crowd, I said to myself, "I can't do this! I will not be a part of this food fight!" I took my plate with four tiny bits of food to the table. Ruth shared her meal with me. There was wine at the table and that helped!
A little later I saw another rude incident. A man who had been sitting at our table had left -- maybe to get in the food line, I don't know. Another gentleman came along and sat there. The first man left me with the impression that he was young and wanted to be treated importantly. The second man was much more interesting looking in some kind of a gentle way. Well, when the first man returned to the table he demanded for his place back. The second man very graciously left. Some time later, when other people at our table had cleared out, this second man came and joined us. Ruth introduced him -- a musician by avocation; educated in the U.S. I poured him a glass of wine and told him I had observed the incident -- and about my experience in the food line. He said, "Oh yes, part of our culture you have to experience." Raphael said that later, too. "Yes, the people do push and scramble for food."
I've reflected a lot on that experience. Where did this behavior come from? Were all these people deprived at some time, and therefore anxious about food? Is it just a quirk of culture? I don't know.
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