Post by Lara
9th December 2012
When we made the decision to join the Peace Corps and
volunteer in Sierra Leone for two years, we knew it would mean sacrificing two
years spent near our families and friends in the states. We also knew this
would mean we might not see some friends or family members again. We couldn’t know, of course, that this loss
would happen so quickly. In the first 6
months we’ve spent in Salone, we have lost three people back at home—Lara’s
Aunt Tracy, a young woman Lara worked with named Inga, and our high school band
director Stephanie Minge. Two deaths
were sudden and unexpected; the other came at the end of a 7 year battle with
cancer. In every case, we have found ourselves feeling even more helpless than
we would feel if we were home, because at least there we can share some time
with others who are mourning with us, and offer some support to our loved
ones. Here, we are literally half a
world away.
In Sierra Leonean culture, death is an inescapable part of
life. This country has one of the highest maternal mortality rates in the world
(in 2010, it was 890 deaths for every 100,000 live births), one of the highest
infant mortality rates (76.64 deaths/1,000 live births) and
one of the highest mortality rates for children under 5. Beyond that, it’s not
uncommon for someone to die quite young by American standards, and for an
unknown reason. Generally when someone
dies, if you ask what the cause was, the answer will be “sickness” or an
accident. Sickness could be anything, and it likely wasn’t diagnosed, because
doctors do not reach every part of the country and the cost of seeing a doctor
or buying medicine prevents many people from making appointments. Accidents are also common, and plenty of
safety hazards are a part of everyday life here: careless motorbike drivers,
poorly-maintained public vehicles, work accidents, falls, burns, etc. For all these reasons, death is approached
with more familiarity here than it was in our native culture.
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| Safety hazards are a part of life here in Salone |
In Sierra Leone, when a person dies, there are numerous
cultural norms surrounding mourning.
First, the closest family members must announce a death before anyone is
allowed to talk about the deceased person by name. That means even if you know for a fact that a
person has died, you must allow the family to make the announcement before you
discuss it, tell others, or offer condolences.
If the person was part of a “secret society,” (of which many adults here
are a part. There are secret societies for women, men, and both) then certain
secret rituals have to be held as well. Funerals
are held within a few days just like in the states, and they vary according to
the religion of the deceased. Then,
after 40 days, the family and friends will gather for a “40th Day
Memorial,” which is much like a funeral but includes a family meeting where the
family members will settle all financial issues the deceased may have had, and
plan for the financial future of the family members left behind. It is culturally appropriate to give money to
a grieving family both at a funeral and a 40th Day Memorial. Flowers are not appropriate, and are in fact
quite confusing to mourners here.
When it comes to animals, death is regarded similarly but with
the added caveat that many animals are raised to be eaten eventually, so the
three possible causes of death are sickness, accident, and slaughter. We have so far experienced all 3 in our own
lives here. We introduced you to
“dinner” in our Thanksgiving post—he was kept to be eaten, so he lived a normal
chicken life in our yard until the day that we roasted him. A few weeks after that, we received a hen as
a gift. We named her “Turtle” because
her feathers were colored like a tortoise shell, and kept her for 4 or 5 days
before she started to act despondent and stop eating. We consulted some friends and found that she
was sick and would need to be killed so none of the other chickens in our
compound caught what she had. A friend
of ours took the hen to the river and disposed of her where she would hopefully
not pass the disease to any other chickens.
Unfortunately, some of the other chickens succumbed anyway, leaving the
neighbors with about half the chickens they started with. Additionally, friends of ours are dealing
with a sick dog that is on her last legs, probably with some form of
cancer. They have tried to keep her
comfortable, but with very little information on what’s ailing her and few
resources, there is not much to do. The
dog has been a good pet and guarded their residence for several years, so our
friends certainly feel pain knowing that she is suffering. I can’t help but recall the last year that my
mom and dad spent with their dog, Laddie, and especially the few months leading
up to putting him down. I’m happy to say
that many of the people in our community have an appreciation for dogs that is
not always present in Sierra Leone, and I’m glad that dogs in our community are
well-treated and missed when they’re gone.
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| The pets on our compound are certainly a part of our family. |
Despite some of the obvious differences between grieving in
this culture and in the U.S., a lot of parallels exist. When I lost my Aunt Tracy, our host family
sent their condolences back to my family at home. Our host mother and 4 host
sisters are Catholic, so they hold many of the same traditions surrounding the
loss of a loved one that I grew up with.
Sierra Leoneans also memorialize their loved ones in some familiar (and
unfamiliar) ways—a school in Bo bears the name of the founder’s daughter who
tragically died a few years ago; masses, sporting events, and other community
gatherings are often dedicated to the memory of a late friend or sponsor; also,
on the unfamiliar side (to us), it’s not uncommon to have t-shirts or other articles of
clothing screen printed with the photo, name, birth and death dates of a
deceased loved one.
Ultimately, we’ve come to realize that death is always difficult,
always sad, always too soon. The differences here are far outshined by the similarities
in grieving and supporting others through difficult times. In the same amount of time that we have lost
Aunt Tracy, Inga, and Steph Minge, our host family has lost two members: my
host father’s brother who was in his 40s, and his aunt who was a church elder
and a grandmother. Dealing with our
losses on the other side of the ocean, we are comforted by friends and family
here who support us and recognize the difficulties we are facing. Above all, we hope that the positive impact
we have here, the relationships we build, and the ways in which our Peace Corps
experience will shape the rest of our lives will help ease the pain of loss,
and we carry their memories with us on our journey.
The statistics in this article come from the Sierra Leone
CIA factbook.
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