The Day the Captain Died

Guess I'll call this "the day the captain died. In Haiti tradition is very important but some things are much more simple. The family had no money so the church he belonged to and worked for for years took responsibility for building the crypt. The wind was blowing so hard family could not come from the mainland so the burial was the next afternoon. No embalming and no funeral homes, so a casket was borrowed for the visitation and church service. People had to wash cloths so the community sold water and a boat ower offered to sell since he wasn't otherwise involved. A retailers booth did good business as people and goats huddled to keep warm. A young neighbor got busy and gave him a shave when they saw me coming to take photos for the family who would not make it. Death isn'n death, it's "passing over" and honoring the person is very important. So important it becomes a community event. The funeral progresses pretty traditonally until the final song when the "keening and wailing" begins in earnest. Close relatives threw themselves on the concrete floor, and how they come out without a concussion is beyond me. This continues to the cemetary as they carry the casket up the hill, remove the body and put the final concrete on the top. For some reason I don't understand, there was no rum and dancing. Think maybe the family was too poor and spent all the money given on food. It is an honorable tradition. There is some laughter and normal daily routines but there is also an entire community involved and respectful. There is a little food, friends sitting around the table playing dominos and an air of surprise. The family, who has nothing, will miss the one who usually did the begging and scrounging for handouts. But he was honored. And I will always remember the waves and wind, and the conversations of "the day the captain died." Shirley