Transport Blues and Bodies

One might think it is depressing living and working in a hospital for AIDS. Actually one hears very little whining and a lot of laughter. And some of the incidences involving death are outrageously funny. So I apologize for the following stories from our lives. They are not meant to disrespect the dead, only to pass on the absurdity of life and death here in KwaZuluNatal.
The Zulu culture places great emphasis on respect for the death and burial rituals. Cremation does not seem to exist in our area; the dead are given decent funerals (which are very costly to the families), buried, mourned with families wearing black for a month and a stone laid on the grave in a formal ceremony. The AIDS epidemic has created a huge industry for dealing with the dead. Tombstone stores crop up in minimalls next to bakeries. Companies that deal in cement and construction supplies open up side businesses to manufacture the gravestones. Zulus that spend their lives riding in crowded 16 passenger taxis (often loaded with 19) finally are treated to a ride in a white Mercedes hearse for the final trip to their resting place if the family can afford the cost. If not they hire a driver and pickup truck with a small coffin sized trailer to transport their loved one to the burial ground.
Transport issues oversee the length of one’s life here in Zululand. From birth to death transport is always a problem. Critically ill patients are transferred from Mountain High Hospital to a better equipped public hospital in Vryheid when they need critical care. Some of the patients die down in the upgraded hospital. Thus the families have the problem of how to get the body back to this isolated rural mountain site when they have no car and limited financial means.
Three months ago a local family arranged to have a small pickup truck (with coffin trailer) bring back their dead relative to the valley 1000ft below Mountain High Hospital The dirt road from the paved road to the Hospital is tricky to navigate and bare rock in one area but the next section that goes from the Hospital over the mountain and down to the valley is tortuous in its steep slippery grade, rough rocks and potholes. The truck and small coffin sized trailer picked up the corpse in town and had no problem transversing the road to the hospital. However, the wheel got stuck in one of the potholes and it could not go down the mountain. The driver and helper tried to dig the truck free and in doing so the trailer came loose and flew down the mountain, hitting the driver, who was seriously injured and was the second casualty in that brigade. Irony was that he brought to Mountain High for first aid and then had to be transported down to the hospital in Vryheid for his injuries.
On Friday, I inquired whether a driver was going to town - the night duty nurses were urgently asking for flashlights (power was out on Thurs. night with no relief in sight). Toner for the printer had run out and the payroll needed to be printed. The driver was noncommittal in his answer as to whether he was in fact headed to town. He asked me to follow him to the hospital pickup truck and take a look. I headed over to the loading area by the gate and immediately understood his dilemma. A white coffin was parked at a 45 degree angle sticking up 2 feet over the tailgate in the back of the pickup. It was too long to fit into the bed of the truck. The driver stated that he had orders to go to Vryheid to pick up a corpse and return it back to our site. B The driver was agitated and did not want to buy flashlights or toner with the corpse tilted in the back of the truck. A suggestion that he run the business errands first and then pick up the body was not well received. A quick search was made of the laundry room and stores to find a plastic tarp to cover the white coffin, whose identity was plain and clear to any passersby. The driver was concerned that he might hit a bump and lose his cargo. Plenty of rope and a few words of encouragement were uttered for his task.
In many ways life here is very similar to life in the 1950’s when not everyone had a car and you were dependent on your neighbors and friends to help with transportation, shortages and family crises. Although local residents squabble among themselves they are quick to forgive and forget as tomorrow they will need each other for urgent needs.