Funeral of a neighbor

Its always a sad day when someone you have met dies. Here in Cameroon, its a weekly experience. This time, the son of a woman who's been very kind to me (and who attended all of my business seminars to help start her own business) passed. I had met him a few times (a really nice guy, my age with a wife and two small children), and he was one of the best friends of my friend Sylvie.

Every friday at the hospital morgue, there is a line of all the relatives or all the people who have died in the past week. This is what we call the 'levee du corps'. Since most people are buried on Saturday to maximize attendance, the vigil the night before starts with the procession of the body from the hospital to the house.

In this case, the hospital is up the road, and his mother's house (where all the activities took place) is almost next door to the bank, it wasn't one that could be missed. A procession with women singers from his mother's church went right past our front door. His mother requested flowers in lieu of cash, so Sylvie helped pick out an appropriate arrangement from her and I which also went from the hospital to the house.

That night, I met the rest of the bank members at our "section" under the tents that had been set up in the front yard of the house for friends and family. It was raining a little, and we all stayed through the "midnight mass" held on the front porch. After giving my condolences to the mother and father (his wife was already asleep in her makeshift bed on the floor in the living room next to the coffin, as per custom) and went home.