Death and Entitlement

I think I am more comfortable with death than a lot of Americans. Perhaps it is from the loss of so many family members and friends in such a short time span. Perhaps it is from my internship and continued volunteer work with a hospice. Or maybe it was simply being there and holding the hand of a friend as he took his last breath after a long and courageous battle with AIDS and seeing the peacefulness that slipped across his face as his spirit left the body that failed him. My guess is -- that it is a combination of all these things that makes the various cultural customs and traditions surrounding death intriguing to me. I often wonder why we as Americans hide death as much as possible….while other cultures accept death openly and celebrate the person’s life with long beautiful rituals.

One of the things I remember most about my trip to Kenya in 2005 was how the casket makers had shops on the main street of every town. There was one here in Eldoret just down the hill from the hospital. It was a constant reminder that death is everywhere. I was looking forward to stopping by the shop upon the return to talk to the carpenter. I thought it would be an interesting place to learn if (in his perspective) stigma associated with HIV/AIDS was declining. My hypnosis was that if the stigma is declining, there would be more Kenyan’s who are getting tested, more people who are positive seeking and adhering to treatment – thus living longer lives and thus, the coffin maker would have seen a decrease in his business.

However, on my first trip to town I noticed that the shop was no longer there. I have walked all the main streets in town and there are no coffin makers to be found. Even in the rural villages, I no longer see caskets propped up by the shops front doors like I saw so frequently just two years ago. Yet each day as I come and go from work I see hundreds of Kenyan’s waiting outside the mortuary to accompany their loved one to the final resting place. Death is still here, running rampant throughout Kenya, so I could not help but wonder where all the caskets makers had gone.

It didn't take long to learn that the powers to be have taken a lesson from the westerners and have made them move their shops. Hiding them at the end of a maze of narrow alleys between buildings or tucking them away on the outskirts of town. Places that someone would only navigate unless they were specifically in need of the service.

As I write this, I can not help but think about the day I went with a community health worker to one of the hospital wards to visit a young woman in her twenties who had been admitted for several weeks. The woman is the caregiver for several young siblings and was seeking assistance from the OVC department since she had been in the hospital and unable to provide for or check on the well-being of her siblings. As the CHW was talking to the patient, a wail broke out in the row of beds on the opposite side of the room. Even on the ward simply continued whatever they were doing as the man who was wailing grieved for the passing of his loved one.

A few minutes later as we were walking out of the ward a staff member began wrapping the body in a white sheet. There is no simple draping of a white sheet like you see on America t.v. The body is literally wrapped in a white sheet providing a sharp contrast against the black plastic mattress cover. As we exited the ward, we pasted another body wrapped in a sheet laying on a gurney amongst a group of visitors in the wards lobby area waiting for someone to transport it to the morgue.

The reality here is that many of the people in the lobby may have family members die because they have to make the choice between buying food to eat and a mosquito net to protect them while they sleep. It amazes me that even in dire circumstances, Kenyan’s feel nothing but appreciation for what little they have. One would never hear a patient here complain of how horrible the hospital food is, or the fact that family members wait outside the front gates for hours in the heat of the day so they can visit only for a short time. Nor would they complain about the lack of technology, resources or medications....or even the physical pain they are in. Which quickly makes one realize how much we as Americans take for granted and how we not only expect the best care and newest and most technologically advanced facilities --- but have come to feel entitled to them.