Funeral

The uncle of our Haitian Construction Project Manager was killed while doing his job about a month ago. It was a robbery and the men who did it knew that he had money and he had a weapon. I think that often they ask for the money without shooting but they knew of him or knew him and so they shot first. I didn’t know him but his nephew is a good guy and his son is a translator for us with the teams. We went to the funeral to show our support. I didn’t have any clothes befitting a funeral here as colors are not worn to a funeral—mostly only white, black or cream. I’ve now got an HOM button-down shirt. (Feels official.)

We ordered a tap tap to take us and the staff but it didn’t show up…after waiting for an hour we decided to take the truck even though we had too many people for that. We ended up with probably 10 in the double cab and many more in the bed of the truck. We had to take this round-about way to the church as there were stories of trouble in Cite Soleil…We were some of the first arrivals. The church was very large and we took seats near the back (as no one else was up front). There was an open casket that we filed by—I had mixed feelings about that as I didn’t know him, it felt a little gawky (odd word but I can’t find the one I think I want). There was some wailing by the family which was explained as real and cultural for them to get the attention and set the right tone. We were moved forward and the church filled up pretty well. There were multiple choirs who sang, his son read a short biography and there were some prayers.  The actual burial was the next morning in the village of his birth (about 6 hours from Port-au-Prince). 

I’m glad I went and glad I could support a friend and coworker, but funerals are hard ceremonies to attend. (stating the obvious)