It was on EBS TV sometime back - an interview of a couple who sat side by side. It was not a photo op. One could clearly see the ease with which the woman leaned on her husband’s bosom and how they talked in fluid conversation. The duo recounted their half-century-long relationship with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, as he assuredly swore how he could not possibly imagine a life without her.

I watched her eyes meet his, unwavering, bespeaking her implicit faith in him, as he returns her unwavering gaze with kindness. This was the touchstone of being a couple.

They talked of their memory of Wello Sefer, Bole district, and the social relations that embraced and served as a broader grounding for their enduring relationship. The woman affirmed with a grimace that a big part of this was the Idirthey were a part of.

She talked about how death in their neighbourhood is synonymous to a wedding, as everyone is taken care of in times of financial and psychological distress. It ended with the man’s radiance as he struggled to impart his exhilaration when he raised the Idir’ssplendid hospitality before and after a funeral and how there are no comparisons elsewhere.

It was a bittersweet interview as the conversation eventually stumbled upon the “bombed” look of the neighbourhood. It was nothing other than Addis Abeba’s inter-city renewal and its ensuing resettlement programmes, whose ramifications are disentanglement of communities, thinning social capital and interpersonal ties.

Is the couple heralding the death of one of the built-to-last, age-old informal associations in Ethiopia, a form of indigenous social insurance whose quintessence is to help members not only during bereavement but also in times of joy? Is this the uninterrupted concomitant phenomenon of urbanised Addis Abeba, beginning in the early part of the 20th century and spreading rapidly since the time of the Italian occupation?

In the Western world, funerals were handled at home until the 20th century; such death rituals are now replaced with greater fear of death and the dead body, according to Philippe Ariès, French historian. Medicine and the death care industry took over management of the dead. Increasingly, death became hidden from public view. No longer familiar, it became threatening and horrific.

In contrast, mourning in Ethiopia follows certain patterns that facilitate the public expression of grief and provide support for the bereaved. As it was in medieval Europe, death is a public ritual, involving the presence of family, friends and neighbours, as well as food and drinks. This was in large part thanks to the socioeconomic association known as Idir.