The High Cost of Farewells

The High Cost of Farewells

Sep 1 , 2024. By Kidist Yidnekachew ( Kidist Yidnekachew is interested in art, human nature and behaviour. She has studied psychology, journalism and communications and can be reached at (kaymina21@gmail.com) )

The bond I had with my mother-in-law was indescribable. Her passing was devastating to the family. Losing a loved one can upend life, triggering deep reflections on existence, mortality, and the fragile nature of life. Thoughts of one's mortality surface, accompanied by haunting "what if" scenarios that disrupt inner peace.

Could her fate have been different? Could there have been more time to cherish? In the absence of clear answers, uncertainty lingers, casting a shadow of doubt and confusion.

In her final days, my mother-in-law lived in a small room, far from the comforts of her past life, largely due to a job that took her away from the city. Despite her modest surroundings, she found contentment in her work, dedicating herself passionately to teaching—even on Sundays and holidays. Seeing her in a coffin—so different from her vibrant life—was heartbreaking.

Amid the encouragement to "stay strong", I found solace in being present following the kind words and advice of my mother-in-law.

When she passed away, my husband and I were not prepared for the emotional and logistical challenges that followed. Beyond the heartbreak, we were overwhelmed by the unfamiliar responsibilities of planning a funeral—from selecting a coffin to organising the service.

One of the most daunting aspects was the cost. Funerals can be surprisingly expensive, and we were quickly faced with decisions that had marked financial implications. We chose a modest coffin priced at 3,500 Br, which reflected my mother-in-law's belief in valuing experiences over material possessions. Despite this modest choice, the expenses quickly added up.

At the cemetery, we were shocked to discover that a simple flower arrangement cost 3,000 Br, and transporting the body to the burial site doubled the price. These costs seemed exorbitant, and we could not help but wonder if they were inflated because my husband was a foreigner, or if this was simply the standard rate. Additionally, Some taxi drivers reportedly charge up to 10,000 Br to transport a Body from Bishoftu to Addis Ababa.

During this difficult time, family, friends, and colleagues provided invaluable support. My mother-in-law's employer took care of many of the funeral arrangements, easing some of the burdens. My husband’s friends also managed to secure a burial plot at the last minute, which was a relief. However, the overall experience made us realise how funerals have become profit-driven. It felt wrong that the deep sorrow of loss was being exploited for financial gain.

For instance, a friend recently spent 55,000 Br on a tombstone, a reminder of how costly these services can be. This led me to wonder about the current costs and whether there were ways to manage or reduce these expenses.

Initially, we were hesitant to hold a sit-in, wanting to shield our children from the mourning process. However, many people came to offer their condolences, and the situation became overwhelming. Although plenty of food was prepared as a result, guests were largely not interested in eating, preferring water and small snacks, which resulted in considerable food waste.

I began to contemplate the fate of those who die without family or caretakers. I wondered if—though I am uncertain—such bodies might be used as cadavers for medical students. This thought led me to reflect on the many unknowns surrounding death and the afterlife, reminding me of how much we have yet to understand about our mortality.

PUBLISHED ON Sep 01,2024 [ VOL 25 , NO 1270]