There was a buzz of excitement among the mourners in the village church in St Lucia when I arrived for the funeral of Joseph, a farmer.
The open coffin stood in the porch with a crush of people around it so great that I made no attempt to look. The extended family was there in force, led by his four daughters.
Suddenly, one daughter flung herself on the coffin and began pounding it with both fists. "No!" she screamed. "No! No!" The cry sounded like a vixen in the night.
The church erupted, with half the people shouting "No!" and the other half "Yes!" "What's up?" I asked my neighbour in the pew. "They brought the wrong body," she said. "So now they must take it back to the funeral home." --guardian.co.uk
The open coffin stood in the porch with a crush of people around it so great that I made no attempt to look. The extended family was there in force, led by his four daughters.
Suddenly, one daughter flung herself on the coffin and began pounding it with both fists. "No!" she screamed. "No! No!" The cry sounded like a vixen in the night.
The church erupted, with half the people shouting "No!" and the other half "Yes!" "What's up?" I asked my neighbour in the pew. "They brought the wrong body," she said. "So now they must take it back to the funeral home." --guardian.co.uk
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