Funerals

Last Thursday I attended two funerals in one afternoon. Twins.

At work I share an office with Jimmy, the REDI project officer. At home he is my next-door neighbour. Him and his wife Betty had only recently discovered that she was pregnant with not one, but two children. They already have 4 children, three girls and a boy, and Betty was looking forward to having another boy in June. Being told that she was approximately 6 months pregnant with twins thus came as quite a shock. Luckily, family members soon expressed an interest in adopting the babies should they turn out to be girls. This is quite normal in Vanuatu. Lots of children are raised by family members who are not their biological parents, especially if the adopting parents do not already have a child of a certain sex. For instance, one of my female colleagues is raising three of her older sister's sons, apart from her own two daughters.

Anyway, early Wednesday morning Betty went into labour, at least three months early. She was rushed to Norsup hospital, some 15 minutes from Lakatoro, where she gave birth to two tiny little boys. One died shortly after, the other one miraculously breathed and looked around. The next day Jimmy came to the office to share the sad news so colleagues and friends could help him organise the funeral. Normally this would be done by family members, who most of the time all live in the same village. However, Lakatoro is not a normal Vanuatu village, but an administrative centre. It doesn't even have a cemetary, because often when someone dies they are brought back to their native village. So in situations like this colleagues and neighbours step in. And did they ever. I have never witnessed such smooth teamwork. Within two hours everything was ready: preacher, plot, coffin, transport, cross, coral, plastic flowers.

And within those two hours almost the whole of Laktoro had heard the news. Anyone who could - men, women, children - came around to Jimmy's house to cry a little with the family or offer their condolences in another way. Most continued on to the burial as well. Unfortunately Betty could not attend the funeral as she was still in hospital with the surviving twin. I offered to take pictures so she need not miss everything and this was gratefully accepted. Below are a few of these.

After a short ceremony at the house the little boy was taken to the cemetary in the Province truck.

It is difficult to describe the informal yet very dignified atmosphere that characterised the funeral service. These people are all friends, neighbours, colleagues who all got together at a moments notice to pay their respects and share the sadness of one of them.


After the service all female colleagues went to the hospital to be with Betty for a while. On our way there the sad news reached us that the second baby had also died. However, it was only when we reached the hospital that it became clear that the second baby had actually died quite a while ago. In fact, well in time to be buried together with its brother. Betty had tried to phone her husband, but the phone at the hospital did not work. Imagine that. Apparently the nurses were unable or unwilling to help her get a message through. In desperation she eventually asked if she could walk to the road so she could flag a truck to pass on a message. This was allowed. Imagine that.

So only three hours after the first funeral we were all back in the same place again for the same sad purpose. Imagine that.