Death in Ghana

I found out tonight that the little girl and her mother who were hit by a tro-tro last Thursday died. Having seen her motionless body, I can’t say I expected otherwise, but I certainly hoped that I missed some movement in the five minutes from when she was hit to when they took her to the hospital. It’s pretty alarming and the image of her lifeless body is not one that I will easily forget.

Death is dealt with in an interesting way here, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned before. When someone dies, burial usually doesn’t take place for at least a month. Posters and often tshirts are made with their photo on them. On the posters, all the funeral details are given, as is a long list of mourners, usually with their title and location beside their name. This seems a bit ostentatious to me, like they are bragging about having a son in the US or Canada or a daughter who is a doctor.

Funerals here, because they occur so long after death, are largely celebratory, except for at the appropriate moments, when all the women start to cry together, moments after (and before) they are dancing and singing. But for children, burial usually occurs soon after death and there are no posters made. You can’t celebrate the life of a child in the same way as you can a grownup’s.

For some reason however, small posters were made of this girl, Fausty Opoku, age 10, and her mother Naomi and one was posted at the kiosk at the junction where they were hit.

Death seems to be internalized more here than at home. As contrived as the wailing at the funerals seems, it is also somewhat practical. You grieve when you are supposed to, but that’s all.

I don’t really know how to close this. I feel like I should say something meaningful but there isn’t much I can say. I hope I haven’t come across as glib, because I can assure you that my mood is anything but light. Seeing her was shocking. As the poster said, may she and her mother find resting peace.