|photo by Emerita|
The first plate of many which I filled and emptied this morning. And the company was.... absolutely excellent from first to last bite.
|All at the table - photo by Emerita|
And here we are at the Cemetery where ..life is fun and full where the conversations with the ancestors, the newly dead or the ones who have been absent from our reality for a long time flourish and flutter - young and old alike are busy communicating and respectfully remembering. The men atop this rolling staircase are celebrating and having a drink with their relatives - whose remains are placed too high up to talk to them directly when standing on the path below, but with this aid of a rolling staircase it works fine, one could even say it is close to comfortable!
Sound systems are not easy to operate nor come by and so... to make sure that everyone can hear the words of importance a megaphone is used. The choir sang loud and beautifully enough to be heard without amplification although ......
I did feel my heart hop and skip a few times when the repairs going on at this grave site 50 meters further along the pathway got a bit too loud - power-drills are not soundless, with or without amplifying.
A photo of a grave site we walked by on our meanderings at the cemetery that day - there are rose-petals in the pattern of a cross on top of the grave and my eyes caught the beauty of the purple candle sitting there on its rock. What I didn't see until I came back and uploaded my photos to the Ipad was ..... the two cigarettes neatly placed on the rock next to the candle rock - as an offering to the dearly departed - one of his/her favorites perhaps. In all the wall cubicles one could observe miniature favorites of the dead family member, be it a soccer-ball, a car, little battery run dancing flowers, you name it, it was there. I have never seen a cemetery this lively ever in my life - paintbrushes were in use to smarten up cement tombs, beer bottles were carried in, dogs were about, I observed two kids around ten years old sitting at a grave-site making patterns with rose-petals - living and dead mingling above and below in their heads and hearts. It was lovely to see and an honour to be part of, even if I was on this day 'just an observer'.