Post Script: Lenzo was at the house last night so Jeff and I were able to offer our condolences in persons. Lenzo’s wife actually went into labor 2 months early, and the baby did not survive. (This is evidence of the continuing chasm that our lack of the native language creates.)
His response to our sympathy was to say, “Thank you so much and for your gifts. But don’t worry. These things happen.” Oddly, his nonchalance was not so strange to me. The strange thing is that this is the same response – nearly word for word – from a variety of Malawians after the death of a loved one, a pastor’s who’s niece died, a friend who’s uncle died…
What does it take to keep your mind and spirit intact when death is such a constant companion? Do you keep a small part of yourself detached and guarded in order to survive the grief? Or do you continue to give yourself whole-heartedly to your children, friends and extended family?
In Malawi, one refers to cousins as brothers and sisters. One’s uncle is your “young father”. Maybe it’s a beautiful and necessary coping mechanism to see your family as strong and intact. So when I go to the Mhone’s house I am introduced to Moty’s sister, Sangwane, who is literally her orphaned cousin. Her “brother” may be an orphaned nephew. But in language, introductions, and daily life they are brothers and sisters no less than those birthed by her mother.
So it seems that when a family member dies, there is, of course, enormous grief. But a large extended family swells to fill the gap or to encircle the remaining relatives into their lives and home. The response of the community to death is not simply prayers and casseroles, but a newly configured family and even stronger family ties.
It occurs to me that I am speaking from a very limited experience and not even touching on the awful stigma and ostracism when the family grieves the loss of a family member with HIV/AIDS. but let’s leave that for another post…
