Burial

The way that we say goodbye to a loved one matters to us.  It gives us a chance to grieve, and to have that grief acknowledged.  It brings closure to the circumstances, whether sudden and shocking or a gradual diminishment, that led to their death.  Whether we had the opportunity to in life or not, it is a chance to say goodbye.  And it provides space to remember the person, to see the person through the eyes of others who loved or respected them, and to together establish how they will be remembered over time.  If we can do this in the way that we feel is right, that reflects well on the person we have lost, the sense of comfort and release can powerfully assist us to let them go.

People are talking a lot about the problems caused by ‘traditional burial practices’ when it comes to Ebola.  This sounds vague and mysterious – partly because practices vary between religious and ethnic groups, according to status and between localities, so it’s hard to pin down exactly what these 'practices' are.  This should hardly be surprising – in the UK, what does a state funeral have in common with a wake in a local pub?  There are subtle and obvious differences between the way that Christians, Muslims, Hindus, atheists and Humanists choose to carry out the process of saying goodbye and remembering.  But what applies across the board is that being denied the chance to do this deprives us of comfort and can leave a sense of having misrepresented the person who died.  The sorrow and anxiety that results from this can be lasting.

When it comes to the burial of Ebola sufferers in Liberia, families may be denied the opportunity to perform the final services of preparation of the body and burial themselves, instead entrusting this important duty to strangers.  They may be forced to breach the wishes of their loved one with regards to how and where they would like to be buried, which would usually be held in high esteem.  They may not be able to mourn as is customary around the body, expressing their grief with the community as their witness.  Most people would wash the body and dress it in a particular way before it is buried.  Instead it must be doused in disinfectant and contained in two bags to ensure that any surviving Ebola virus is killed or contained.  For infection control purposes, it may not be possible for the person’s body to be returned to their village of origin and buried in the right place, whether that is near the family home or in a designated area outside the village.  Where it is possible, people may be too afraid to have the body returned to them.  It is easy to see how difficult this may be for bereaved families to come to terms with, and why some people may resist complying with burial procedures that are necessary to contain the spread of the disease.

I have been to many funerals, but I have never in my life seen a dead body.  From my cultural background, the way that a dead body is handled should be respectful towards the person that was, but is mainly a matter of hygiene and practicality – the person I knew is not there any more.  The circumstances of the funeral are mainly for the benefit of those that are left behind - even for those of us who believe there is life beyond death, this spiritual dimension is somewhere quite removed from the life that the rest of us will keep on living.  That is not how it is for those who hold traditional beliefs in Liberia.  The spiritual realm coexists with the material realm of the living in daily life, and death means a transition between these two realms.  A burial and funeral is a rite of passage that is crucial to making a proper transition between these realms – failure to achieve this may have drastic spiritual consequences.  This is not just sentimentality – the spiritual discord that can result from failure to conduct a proper burial can affect the whole community, and for those that are left can be the greatest source of trauma associated with loss.