Sadly, another child in our village died from the measles this week. He was one of our closer neighbors.
The burial was a sad, unceremonious event. The hole was begun a day in advance and finished off the next morning with a dozen kids watching. Shortly after the preparations were complete, a group of ladies followed the grandmother carrying the body to the grave. When they arrived an uncle took the body and carried it the last fifty feet to the hole while the ladies watched from a distance. The father was absent.
Nothing was said. And, unlike the funerals of adults we’ve witnessed, there was no crying or any emotional display. It seems that the death of a child is too regular.