the church with no name
the church in frere with no name is having another funeral today. they have one about every 3 to 4 days it seems. someone is going home.
precious lord take my hand lead me home.
members of a brass band are standing across the street avoiding arriving tap-taps. the lone wail of a woman fills the air. a long, continuous, agonisingly painful wail. a girl passes with a wheel barrow full of wires. the shoe-shine boys at the gate go sombre. an elaborate white casket covered with flowers is carefully carried down the tiled stairs and into the street. the brass band starts to play and follow the procession down the street. the wailing woman is steadied by two women on either side. her eyes are closed. five smiling pakistani troops in an american armoured personnel carrier keep their guns trained on the procession. they call them united nations peace keepers. no one seem to notice them this time as they march to the cemetery to bury their dead.
