Beloved

Today, we said goodbye to a compassionate field-worker, a gentle and dedicated man who suffered a fatal heart attack at 48 years old. Ernesto Amado, a last name that means ‘beloved’, was in fact just that, not only by his colleagues at World Vision, but by the community and church of which he was a leader, the soccer league in which he was a referee, and his large, loving family.

The funeral began at his home, a small mud-covered structure in an urban neighborhood of Quelimane, where we gathered to hear a sermon and listen to farewell songs in Chuabo, one of the local languages. As we left the house, the wailing began. Women in brightly colored capulanas needed much support to stand as they cried out their pain, but I was most affected by his children, in their 20s and 30s, dressed all in black and staring out at nothing, leaning on one another, eyes glossy and distant.

At the cemetery, we gathered in patches under shade trees, the sun already burning my arms at 9:30am, and watched as the gravediggers finished their job. The women continued to sing, “we’ve arrived at the resting place”. After eulogies were spoken and the casket lowered, we stepped forward to toss handfuls of earth into the grave, then covered it with cut flowers. The women sang “all is calm, we’ve said goodbye to our father”.

Back at his family’s home, everyone must wash their hands. It’s the custom here, to wash away what might have come with you from the grave, the resting place. And after everything, what’s left is the memory of a man beloved for his kindness and dedication to making Mozambique a better, more balanced place, and a lingering tune of pure harmonies in a sandy African cemetery.