James Howen R.I.P.

When Sheba was young her mother returned home from work one day to find all the women in the neighbourhood clustered around the house. Worried, she rushed to see what was happening and heard the sounds of wailing from inside the house.

All four children were bawling their eyes out. Amma was worried something had happened to their grandmother. That worry was unfounded. Sheba's grannie was alive and well. The four siblings were inconsolable because their puppy had died - and no amount of comfort from their 'Api' was helping them.

I remember pet deaths in my childhood. We had a burial for one of my hamster. Complete with a sermon and a small cardboard casket. I had never been to a 'real' funeral myself - so don't know where the ideas came from. But the hamster was buried their in the soil outside our Nana Chowk house.

Our kids don't have pets. Not yet at least. A promise of an aquarium in June may be the first step towards new life in the Eicher home.

So when we had a funeral recently in the home it wasn't for a budgie or for a kitten.

It was for a marble.

Enoch loves playing with his marbles. He has given many of them names. They are organised in tribes (mainly based on their primary colour) and Enoch organises races between different groups.

Yesterday a green marble fell down and cracked. Enoch and Asha decided to bury him. A small casket was commissioned using the cardboard box from a small jar of cold cream. It was covered with white paper and the name of the marble
written on it.

James Howen was the name given to the deceased. Enoch's choice. I don't think the name existed before the green fellow cracked. A hole was dug in one of our defunct flower pots (the curse of the Eicher brown thumb) and the little fellow was put inside. A small white cross now marks the spot.

So what do our children know about death?

Well - a lot more than I did when I was their age.

Sheba and I do not intentionally talk about it around them - but inevitably it shows up. Too many of our Positive Friends die. Too many. Asha and Enoch have over the years gotten to know people who then die.

Other than Auntie Theresa who died of cancer when I was a boy - and the distant deaths of my mother's parents I don't think I was exposed much at all in my childhood.

I am glad that death is not taboo to Asha and Enoch. We have enough of it in the world.

Our dear friend John Forbes is visiting us currently. The other day he was talking with our staff at JSK. Reflecting on the unfolding tragedy of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan John commented that in a way he was fortunate to have a diagnosis of HIV. Fortunate - because he was so aware of his imanent mortality. When he heard that he probably only had 6 months to live since his CD4 count had dropped to 64 and he was in an AIDS stage - that shook him to the core and brought him back to God. The fact that he is now over a decade further into life and has been used all around the world stems partly from this acknowlegement of his mortality.

Would that we would live each day is if it were the last.

A play funeral for a cracked marble has helped me remember my own upcoming death day.