There are no words to express what we were able to witness today. This morning as we were standing in the morning assembly, a teacher received a call to say one of the students of the Tafi Atome school had passed away. Her name was Teresa and she was in class 4 (like 4th grade but they are all ages, more on that later). Quickly, plans were put into place for the burial and the role of the school in the ceremonies. We went off to teach our classes, (Renee class 3 and Molly class 5), and around 9:45 an assembly was called for all the children in the church next to the school. They all practiced singing burial songs. They were beautiful, energetic songs with a simple drumbeat to each of them. Afterward, we taught some more and after school we met with the headmaster who told us to meet at the Heath clinic at "3,4,or 5:00" because they would be bringing the corpse and then the procession through the village would begin. He said to just listen for the drum and you would know when to come out and meet. We heard drums around 3:00 so we walked the three minutes down the road to the health clinic. Children came running from all directions to join. There the children were singing their songs and practicing, and soon just playing around and chasing each other. We waited about an hour and a half when finally a bright red Toyota moon van pulled up blaring it's horn and all the children rushed into the street in chaos. Soon they formed lines in front of the van ( which we found out held the family and the deceased). The children (about 200 of them) began marching and the drumbeats blared as they started singing burial songs. The teachers and volunteers joined in the procession. This felt very strange being an outsider in the community, but the headmaster asked us to be a part since we represented the school and were a part of the community now. They are incredibly welcoming. As we marched down the road, we walked next to the van once and got a glimpse of the family, who were inconsolable. My heart just broke for them, and the sadness was overwhelming. Villagers along the road all came out and were crying or standing solemly as the procession continued. The procession led all the way to the home of the family. Here, we stood and listened to songs for a bit, then the headmaster invites us to come pay respects to the family. All of the teachers and volunteers went and sat under a thatched roof hut, with 9 members of the family (all male) sitting in front of us. They spoke in Ewe ( the local language) to the headmasters of the school for a while and then the volunteers were asked to get up and pay respects. It was so strange getting up first without knowing the customs, but we just went up and shook each of their hands and said how sorry we were. It was completely obvious who the father was. He was the one with a look of complete loss in his eyes, you knew it when you saw him that he must be the father. We sat a little while longer, and sure enough they had him and the grandfather stand so we could know who they were. Afterward, we all walked back to the school together. Much of this time, we had no idea where we were going and what was going to happen next, but just figured it out as we went. At the school the headmaster informed us that we were to wait for something from the family but we're sure what. Soon, two older men showed up with a plastic sack in hand. After some words in Ewe, they pulled out two bottles of liquor and handed them to the headmaster... End of Part 1...to be continued
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