Death as a Routine Part of Life

We just returned from our trip to Chimoio to spend time with Matias' family for Christmas.  It's about 720 miles each way, and amazingly and and thankfully, our car made it there and back with no problems.  Chimoio is a calm quiet city about 45 minutes from the border of Zimbabwe... it's lush and green at this time of year, but also very hot.  And this is also the time of year for beautiful rainbow colored mangoes (and the corresponding not so beautiful flies that attack once you open one).  Nalia loves spending Christmas in Chimoio, playing outside with her friends and cousins until way after the sun goes down.   I'm not as fond of Christmas in Africa, and after 4 years of it, I'll probably advocate for a more traditional American Christmas next year.

During my second day in Chimoio, we found out that the son of a friend of Matias' in Maputo had died.  He was only 11.  I think I posted a picture of him in a previous blog-- we went to their house in September.  So tragic, and it took several days to find out what happened.  In the meantime, I was reminded of how differently people in Mozambique deal with death, partly because it's just a different culture, but partly because it happens so much here. 

In the U.S., we fear death and getting old so much that we try to fight it and resist it all we can-  I remember when my grandmother died...  Modern medicine could keep her alive with stomach tubes and other technologies, but she was unable to eat or speak on her own.  Her quality of life had deteriorated so much that I think she was truly miserable, so one day, or at least this is what I think, she decided that she was ready to go and stopped eating and drinking. 

Here, death happens so much more than in an U.S.-- accidents, AIDS, malaria, and pneumonia are among the many causes.  Upon hearing that someone has died, even someone they may know as an aquaintance or a friend, people here usually have a very unemotional response.  I don't think it's because they don't feel pain or suffer because of death- it's because it happens so routinely that they develop a certain immunity to all the emotions that accompany death in places where it's so feared and not so routine.  They are also not surprised by it, like we are... after all, how could you be surprised by something that happens nearly every day or week. 

And it's not the custom here to ask of what or how people died... if you do ask and the person was sick, they will usually just reply, "He died of doenca (sickness)."  Most times this means he died of HIV/AIDS because there is so much stigma still attached to AIDS that it would be extremely rare for a Mozambican to admit that a family member died of AIDS... even though AIDS isn't rare or uncommon here.

Our friend died of something more rare and entirely preventable.  That's what bothers me most about death here in Mozambique-- a lot of it is entirely preventable.  Our friend drowned.  He went to the pool with his friends because school was out and it was really hot.  There are no lifeguards here and he didn't know how to swim well.  It never should have happened.  So, to remember him, I'm attaching his photo below.  Please keep him and his family in your thoughts and prayers.