Mozambicans just had three days of national mourning following the death of at least 69 people who drank contaminated beer at a funeral held. Over 100 are still hospitalized and a local brew called Pombe is to blame. Investigations are ongoing but there are claims that the drink; made from millet or corn flour, was laced with poison, crocodile bile to be exact. My first thought was how whoever made the drink even got the poison and in substantial amounts enough to hurt many people. Sadly, it’s not the first time that lives have been lost in similar circumstances; and it will not be the last. A friend remarked that there is a thin line between life and death and indeed there is. One minute you’re here, the next you’re gone; but perhaps more poignant is when someone or some people attending a burial of a loved one die too and the causes are many. Sometimes it’s the shock at the sad news, which may cause a fatal heart attack. Other times, it’s the immense grief and the bereaved just can’t bear the loss of a child, sibling or spouse and so they commit suicide. There have also been reports of heartbreak, where someone just doesn’t have the will to live anymore and days after the death of a loved one, they too die. Trust me; I’m not making this up. I’ve also heard accounts of snake bites in graveyards, which shouldn’t be surprising as several burial grounds tend to be located in isolated spots in a village somewhere. Not all cemeteries are tended or maintained regularly and for that reason, overgrown bushes are common and those provide a good hideout for all kinds of creatures. As I said earlier, these incidents may sound strange but they happen. Then of course there are accidents. I remember reading about a tragic one where about 20 mourners died when the open truck transporting them and a body collided with a bus. Some people joked that the casket didn’t have even a single scratch and yet some of the survivors lost limbs. It’s stories like those that make me shun burials, and I’m ashamed to admit this but for several years now, I’ve used all kinds of excuses to skip funerals, especially if it’s not close family and more so if it’s a long way out of town, something my mum complains about since she considers attending burials an investment of sorts and believes the more we support others in their hour of need, the more likely they’re to turn up during ours. I guess she has a point. Back to the beer casualties, I’ve always wondered why people drink at funerals. There you are, probably huddled in a tent or around a fire at the deceased’s compound and somewhere, people are drinking. I guess it’s their way of numbing the pain. Personally, the last thing I want to do is get drunk at a funeral. It’s a somber affair and if anything, it should be a sobering moment for those left behind to reflect on their own lives. But death is depressing and frightening so I understand why some may reach for a drink or two in an attempt to forget about it all.
