O death, where is thy sting?

O death, where is thy sting?

Pondering what other symbolism and metaphors this word sting brings…

Is the sting the wail from the daughter at her mother’s funeral?

Is it the children sitting under the tree who are saying goodbye to their teacher?

Is it how a common, preventable disease has wiped away the life of yet another?

Children and parents offer flowers at the burial of Teacher Dorine this week.

Or perhaps it is the comment from a grieving guest: how two cows at her father’s burial were not nearly enough to feed the guests (many who had joined the grieving for free food).

Is it how death has become such a strong reality in this land, almost something tangible?

Is it when you have been nudged and prompted to pray because your colleagues are too overcome with grief to whisper a prayer?

Is it when you meet with neighbours and colleagues, hearing of three burials this week, passing around a contribution list to help the family with costs?

Is it when you see young children bringing in 100 shillings (2p/4c); their contribution to their teacher’s burial?

Is it when you begin to feel old, fragile and suddenly mortal, questioning your purpose and future?

O death, where is thy sting?

These musings come from attending the burial of a teacher colleague of mine: Adoch Dorine, who taught at Layibi Techo Primary School. She died this week, aged 52, and suffered a long battle with HIV.

Jody