Burying the coffin

We then all washed ourselves and cleaned up from the cutting up of the meat, we headed through the mielie fields and back to the gravesite to continue digging. When I arrived the Incubator vehicle was just leaving having dropped the coffin at the gravesite.
This was a much more sombre affair than the day before.
The men again each took a turn at digging. But this time there was no banter or teasing like there had been the day before. The starkness of the coffin, right there, only meters away, was like a mirror refelcting yor realities and fears. About your own tangibility, and that of you rown children. And yet, standing there looking around me at these men of various ages who had all grown up together, I became aware that they all shared an incredible sense of belonging, of family, of tribe. To me there was an strong sense of bonded togetherness that I have never seen before. There was such a strong sense of community, that as an outsider was so apparent to me.
Looking over at the small white coffin, it was as though they were all here to look after on of their own. To make sure his journey was completed. Thye had all taken the time to come and do this, knowing that it would be done for them when it was their turn.
And even for the child's family, it was not something they had to face alone. They were surrounded by such a strong sense of community, they were central to their entire communities focus.

Once the grave was deep enough, a maternal uncle of the young boy opened the coffin and showed his face to two elders. They then gently covered his face, first with what looked like a white paper towel, and then they gently closed a blanket over his face and reclosed the coffin.
On of the elders then spoke for a few minutes, but I was unable to understand what they were saying.

Once the coffin was laid in the grave a bag was brought forward with the child’s sleeping mat, blanket and a full set of clothes. The sleeping mat and the blanket were gently spread over the coffin, and then each item of clothing was sliced with a knife, and then placed alongside the coffin. On top of this lengths of wood were laid to form a covering to protect them all from the earth.

Then all of the men helped shovel in the soil until all that remained was a mound of earth indicating the grave. While the last of the soil was being shovelled in the child’s shoes and belt were also cut and thrown into the grave.

Into the mound they planted several aloes to indicate the site of the grave to community members who were not present and who might like to visit the grave at a future date.

While all this was happening the women were gathered in two groups and sat about 50 meters way up hill on the grass. They never spoke or made any sound that I was aware of from where I was standing. They were dressed colourfully, wrapped in blankets and with their heads wrapped in scarves.

The men then left the gravesite and moved up the hill past the women and back towards the marquee where the funeral service and feast would take place. We all filed back into the tent where we washed our hands and had tea and a thick doorstopper of Xhosa bread.