“Tears shed for another person are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign of a pure heart.”
Snow showers are predicted for today, but I haven’t seen any. It’s cold. The snow crunches underfoot. The dogs are careful going up and down the backstairs, but the ice is almost gone on most of the steps. They run all over the backyard. When they come back inside, their fur and ears are cold. Nala likes going under the afghan on the couch. Henry goes upstairs to my, our, bed.
I was born in Stoneham, Massachusetts in a hospital which is now closed and derelict. I only went there one other time to the emergency room. I remember the bus from Stoneham to Medford used to go up the driveway and stop at a beautiful stone building. Student nurses lived there. I remember they’d come out to the bus wearing their uniforms including white starched hats. I was a candy striper there for a while. My mother made my pink and white uniform. I used to do things like bringing delivered flowers to patients. I always felt a bit official when I wore it.
In Bolga, my home in Ghana, there was a hospital a short walk from my school. I went there twice. The first time was just after a student had died. My school principal sent me there in the school lorry with a few FraFra students, members of her tribe, to bring her back to the school. I also went with my FraFra students to tell her brother. I just stood there as they spoke FraFra. Later, they told me that the custom is just to say she is quite ill, and the brother would know she had passed. The school carpenters made her coffin. At her dorm, her bed had been brought to the porch. It was covered in flowers and pictures. The students were crying and grieving. School staff picked up her coffin and carried it to all the places on the school grounds where she used to go. At each spot, the dining hall, the school block, her dorm, a libation was poured. Everyone followed the coffin.
We brought her to her village. Her coffin was carried by men from the village to her house outside the village proper. I remember watching them almost running as they carried her coffin. We all followed. She was readied for burial by the women. Her brother explained. All her hair would be shaved from her body. She had come into the world naked and would leave naked. She was wrapped in a tall grassy sort of mat and carried to the burial site beyond her house. She was buried in the same tomb as her parents as she was too young for her own burial site. Some naked men went down in the tomb to receive her and place her body. Her brother made sure I was standing in the front so I could watch the whole ceremony. I wished I was in the back.
I still vividly remember everything about that day.
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February 17, 2024 at 3:13 pm
Hi Kat,
Today, the sky is mostly clear with a high of only a chilly 47°.
I was born in the Brooklyn Jewish Hospital. I never went back. I just looked it up and it’s been merged with St. John’s Hospital which is now called, Interfaith Medical Center. I would have never thought about what happened to the hospital where I was born until you mentioned the hospital where you were born in your post. Thanks. 🙂
Death rituals of other cultures are very interesting. Jewish people believe that the body must be buried within 48 hours after death and it can’t be embalmed. The body is wrapped in a shroud and the casket can’t contain any metal and must be made of wood so that the body can easily decompose. After the funeral, the mourning begins. The first stage is shiva, the Hebrew word for seven. For seven days the immediate family members sit on low benches in their stocking feet and their neighbors and friends send in prepared food. Afterwards, there is thirty days of no parties or celebrations and the family can return to work. Finally, after a year the headstone is placed and unveiled.
My late father had me donate his body to the Southwestern Medical School. He didn’t want me to spend my sister and my small inheritance on a funeral.
February 17, 2024 at 10:45 pm
Hi Bob,
Right now, at 10:26 it is 31° but with the wind chill it feels like 19°. The snow showers left a dusting.
My hospital was, when I was born, run by the Seventh Day Adventists. They didn’t serve meat. You got pseudo-meat for meals. Later it was transferred to another group I don’t remember, and they served meat. The building is totally abandoned and has appeared on a couple of haunted places lists.
I knew a bit about Jewish rituals like being buried within 48 hours and sitting Shiva. I didn’t know about the wooden coffin and the rituals after Shiva. You are right about the rituals being interesting.
In Ghana now many funerals take place months after death. That gives the family time to receive enough money to pay for the funeral and the party afterwards as the funerals are elaborate and even lavish.
Mourners wear and black, but white is sometimes worn at the funeral of a really old person.
February 17, 2024 at 11:30 pm
How do they keep the remains from decomposing for that long?
February 18, 2024 at 2:19 am
In the fridge! This article should answer your questions:
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-44303067
February 17, 2024 at 10:26 pm
I can understand why it stayed with you. A powerful memory.
February 17, 2024 at 10:53 pm
Rowen,
I remember that morning before I knew. Some of my FraFra students were at a building behind my house, and they were crying. I knew something horrible must have happened.
Her brother donated a goat to the school to have a feast in her memory. Her name was Margaret Atia.