I attended Ahkona's funeral service last Saturday at his family's home in Imizamo Yethu (IY), the black township in Hout Bay. I had reservations at first about going, not wanting to intrude and be a bother, seeing as I barely knew him. But in the end, I'm glad i went.
It was a drizzly, cloudy day; scores of people crowded under the tarpaulin to pay respects to the jolly boy who lost his life so tragically.
After many hymns, prayers and speeches from family members, the HB Music Project played a couple of pieces. I was designated videographer and due to the limited space, i was literally pointing the camera in the kids' faces.
What i saw through the lens was heart-breaking; the kids played and sang with all their hearts, tears streaming down their cheeks. They performed like there was no tomorrow and only at the last few closing bars did their voices waver. As the last note was played, there was a serene silence, like the end of a prayer.
The kids had practiced diligently (for once!), without arguing or messing around. They knew this was for a special purpose; they even took initiative and took their instruments to the outdoor amphitheatre (about 10 kms away from IY) to practice before the service. This totally shocked Leanne and I. Kids do have a deeper understanding of life's ongoings, more than what we give them credit for.
IY is like so many of the other townships: crowded dwellings, potholed streets, lack of drainage systems, etc. Privacy is a luxury and word gets around quicker than I can possibly imagine. Akhona's family lives only a few yards away from his murderer's house; how the two families will continue to live so closeby is anyone's guess.
This is a difficult entry for me to write, more than i expected. It's enough now. There must be a sense of closure and of moving forwards.
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