EDITOR’S NOTE: Rachel Osborn, a LaPorte native and a 2014 graduate of Michigan State University, left LaPorte in October 2014 to serve as a missionary in Chad, north central Africa, for six months. Rachel, a 2011 LaPorte High School graduate, majored in Global and Area Studies–International Development at MSU. She is the daughter of Drummond and Sue Osborn of LaPorte. Rachel sends occasional columns to WNLP; here is her latest. You can also follow Rachel’s adventures at http://rachelinchad.wordpress.com.
Twenty people and a baby.
That’s how many can fit in, and on, a Hi-Lux pickup truck traveling down the dirt roads of Dar Sila, Chad.
Full disclosure: for the first leg of the journey, there were only 17 people and a baby. And for most of the second leg of the journey, there were 18 people and a baby. The final two hopped on in the last few miles before home.
Still, I like to think that I’ve participated in my share of stuffing-the-maximum-amount-of-people-into-vehicles adventures, and this one surpassed them all.
Disclaimer: Don’t try this at home, folks.
Seven of us were in the truck cab — three women in the front seats and four men on the back bench — but that in itself is not impressive. The impressive part is that 10 women, a teenage boy and a baby fit themselves into the truck bed for an hour-and-a-half drive each direction. This is not an extraordinary truck bed; in fact, in addition to the people, it was packed with two spare tires, a plastic storage chest and a few liters of spare fuel. Thankfully, it was surrounded by a cage, which ensured the safe arrival of all original passengers. No grumbling or yelps of cramps or being sat on — just a dozen Chadians who hopped up into the truck bed and folded themselves in for a cozy ride. The final two passengers, who we picked up only a few miles out of Goz Beida on the way home, balanced on the roof rack over the cab.
And now the million-dollar question: Why? Where on earth were we going that necessitated this extraordinary feat of people-packing?
We were going to a funeral.
After a death, friends and family gather at the home of the recently deceased (or nearby, since the crowd is usually too big for one yard) to share grief and celebrate life. A more accurate term than “funeral” might be “wake.” And like most events in Muslim culture, the wakes are gender-segregated, so I can only speak for what the women do:
Upon arrival to the yard, we picked our way through groups of already-seated women to find a place to sit — at this particular wake, there were at least 100 women present. Then, condolences were given. The women gathered around a family member of the deceased, squatting or kneeling; a communal prayer was said; then, in a dramatic change in demeanor, the women lurched together into a huddle in the middle of the mat and wailed. I’m not sure if there is a set time limit for the wailing, or if it just goes until everyone has mourned sufficiently. Either way, the wailing only lasted for a minute or so, and then the women straightened up and wiped the tears from their eyes, and thus condolences have been given. Then, of course, there was food and mat-sitting.
The typical wake lasts up to two weeks — partly, I think, to make sure those who need to travel still have an opportunity to attend. Although people often bring gifts or give money to the family of the deceased, the most respectful and important part of the funeral tradition is simply attendance (and therefore the sharing of condolences). You don’t have to attend the full two weeks; our passengers traveled in for only a half-day of attendance. (This may be dependent on how far away you live; I’m not sure.)
The deceased was an older woman, somehow related to my friend TT’s landlord’s family (and thus to a large portion of our neighborhood, which all seems to be interconnected by siblings and cousins and second-cousins-twice-removed and the like). The road from Goz Beida to the town where the funeral was hosted is actually quite an easy drive, but to organize public transportation for a large group is logistically and financially difficult, so the landlord asked TT. And that’s how I found out just how many people a pickup truck can hold.
The trip wasn’t totally altruistic; we’re always interested in getting the lay of the land around Goz Beida, and this was a town of decent size not too far away that we had yet to visit. The best part was that I actually have a Chadian friend who lives in this town, and TT and I had been hoping to get to visit her at least once before my term is up. So while the other women attended the wake, TT and I hung out at my friend’s house. (Side note: how cool is it that I have a Chadian friend who lives in a town outside my own? I know her because she’s my landlord’s daughter and came to stay next door in Goz Beida for a few weeks when her mother gave birth to the new baby.)
We attended the wake for a little while, long enough to find out that another woman from our neighborhood was also in attendance (I call her “doughnut lady” because she sits in the street and sells doughnuts. She sells other things, too, such as fried sweet potatoes and cooking oil and sometimes tomatoes or mangoes, but I appreciate her doughnuts the most). Doughnut lady was unfathomably happy to see us and greeted us with enthusiastic embraces, which was fun.
All in all, the day was a success. Condolences were given, friends were visited, we got to see a little more of the area, the physical limits of Chewbacca-the-truck were explored — and when we got back home, TT and I headed straight to our favorite little shop and enjoyed a bottle of pop straight from the cooler.
Not a bad day. Not bad at all.