Dealing With Death in Mozambique

Since arriving in Mozambique, I have on numerous occasions felt angry and frustrated in the face of such a different culture. One day I might get mad at a Mozambican for bluntly telling me that my Portuguese needs work. Another day I stand at the counter of the bank for the 5th time in 2 weeks, waiting to find out whether I can finally begin to go through the process of requesting a bank transfer. Then, of course, there was the one day a few weeks ago that made all others pale in comparison.

Without wanting to go into too much detail, two Mondays ago, as I was heading down to Maputo with my friend Chelsea, our chapa ran over and killed a young, preteen boy crossing the street in downtown Xai Xai. Besides the initial shock and the obvious fact that both Chelsea and I were pretty upset, I became extremely angry as I further assessed the entire scene.

Looking around I saw faces unmoved, dry eyes, and even heard people complain about the travel delay. I saw people going about their business selling phone credit while others gathered around to see the young lifeless body still resting in a puddle by the side of the road. I saw a side of this culture that has been tough to swallow as a person growing up in my own.

In the weeks following, I have had a few conversations with Mozambicans and Americans alike as I’ve tried to make sense of what I witnessed. Why didn’t that boy’s death seem to affect anyone besides myself and Chelsea? Have Mozambicans experienced death so much as to remain numb to its emotional effects? Why didn’t I see any kind of sympathy in the eyes of the driver?

Having taken into consideration my conversations with Mozambicans, I have seen a different perspective of death than I am used to. Sure, not reacting may be an emotional defense mechanism, but in a lot of cases it appears to be that sympathy simply does not extend outside of situations involving family and friends.

If it is true, that Mozambicans simply do not care for others outside of their family and friends, what does this say, if anything, about Mozambican culture itself? Could it be that while this is true, it is an indirect result of dealing with death all of the time? Or is the culture simply sinister, as American upbringing might tempt us to believe? Having reflected upon these questions for awhile now, I’ve realized that I cannot hope to answer the first two adequately and that the third question itself is simply leading to an unfair conclusion.

To say that a culture is sinister in the manner which is presented, is to effectively dehumanize the people that make it up. But I must, at this point, protest such a crude assumption since it’s obvious that Mozambicans love and are loved. Rather, the point of contention is why there is a tendency to not care as much for strangers or people outside of one’s closest friends and family. Then again, why do we care about what happens to people who we do not know?

In America, like Mozambique, our view of death is not universal, but can be the reality for many. That having been said, as is often the case back home, sympathy does not occur unless there is an association made with the person who is dead or suffering. ‘Oh my goodness, that boy on the news is the same age as my son.’ ‘That woman in the hospital looked like my Aunt Jill.’ And so on.

So what does it all mean? Mozambicans sympathize for friends and family. Americans sympathize for friends, family, and people the remind them of friends and family. Is the American way right or are we just deceiving ourselves to the point that we have to trick ourselves into caring?

I guess in the end I don’t know for sure how to answer any of these questions. I’m still in the midst of processing things and trying to understand where people are coming from. Whatever the case, my inner thoughts aside, please pray for the family of that boy, that they find comfort and peace in such a difficult time. . .