Mingling with the dead
Mingling with the dead By Kondwani Nyondo It is my third morning since I joined the mortuary, but the smell no longer bothers me. There is silence — the kind that hums through the cold air. Mr. Banda, the senior attendant, calls it “the sound of peace.” Before I joined, I heard many stories about mortuary attendants. One of them claimed that when a dead person suddenly rose, attendants finished them off with a hammer. I ask Banda if, in his thirty years of service, he has ever seen that happen. He chuckles, wiping his hands with a towel. “No. That has never happened,” he says. Then, after a pause, adds, “But there was one incident — a coffin swelling on its own after we had put in the body. That one scared me a little.” An hour later, the ground phone rings. Banda picks it up. It’s a call from Room 12 in the doctors’ block. “Get to 4A on the ground floor. There’s your new arrival," says the voice. We move quickly, gloves and stretcher in hand. When we reach the ward, a...