In these lines of poetry, “In Blackwater Woods,” Mary Oliver, winner of the Pulitzer Prize for poetry and Unitarian Universalist minister, captures the essence of collective mourning:
“Look, the trees are turning their bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfilment… you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it when the time comes to let it go, let it go.”
As a television news executive, I have learned that South Africans have an intrinsic connection with funerals. Our screens are often adorned with images of grieving families and weeping friends, creating a tapestry of collective sorrow that resonates deeply within our society.
A recent example is the funeral of Zanele Mbokazi, a beloved Ukhozi FM anchor and media personality, held last August. This event became one of the country’s most-watched television news moments. Whenever the news viewing figures shoot up, it is part of my job to work out why and to leverage any insights I gain into the team’s future news coverage.
What attracts people to follow and or stay with a story? What is the appeal, the inner need that it is being satisfied: curiosity about the life of celebs, captivated by the horror of a tragedy, or a need for entertaining distraction – to watch something which has nothing to do with the life we are each living.
I understand, close to home, the commitment of the sports aficionados hooked into the tension of who will win – I have friends who call themselves football widows. But watching the live funeral broadcast, the slow unfolding of the setting up, and the arrival of guests long before the service starts – what is the appeal?
I have sometimes wondered if these are moments of escapism, where the intricate layers of individual sorrow risk being overshadowed by the louder chorus of group emotions. Is this our way to sometimes avoid engaging with our own unattended grief?
This past weekend, our nation once again came together to mourn the loss of two well-known music artists, Winnie Khumalo and Victor “Doc Shebeleza” Bogopane. As tributes poured in from fans and fellow artists alike, one particular moment struck a chord with many – DJ Zinhle’s emotional speech during the memorial service. The video clips have garnered over one million views and comments on YouTube and TikTok.
Is this our collective need to mourn being demonstrated? Zinhle’s speech accessed a raw vulnerability that touched the hearts of many South Africans. Her sincere tribute reminded us of all of the profound connections we forge in life, connections that endure even beyond death. I think we find ourselves so drawn to these experiences of collective mourning because, in this complex dance between solidarity and personal healing, collective grieving serves as a balm for our wounds.
It may also serve to distract us from the deeper, often more solitary journey of processing personal loss. And perhaps it speaks to a deeper communal bond that exists in South Africa – a relationship marked by shared struggles, aspirations, and losses. In a nation rich with diversity and history, funerals become a canvas upon which we paint our collective identity. We share in the pain of loss for those we loved directly and the dreams and stories they represented in our communal narrative.
In this age of social media, the visibility of collective mourning has amplified. The moment a video clip of DJ Zinhle’s speech circulated online, it ignited a wave of empathy and reflection among South Africans. People took to various platforms to share their thoughts, express their condolences, and recount their own experiences of grief.
Funerals resonate with us fundamentally because they confront us with the realities of life and death. A friend of mine has commented that he was always puzzled by the depth of emotion he felt at funerals, even when he did not know that person very well.
My friend concluded that attending a funeral creates the time and occasion to reflect on our own mortality, our knowledge that one day we will be the person in the coffin. As we witness the outpouring of emotion from those who loved the deceased, we are reminded of our fragility and the imperative to cherish the moments we have. As witnesses, even if our presence is virtual, we are not alone in our sorrow; instead, we are part of a larger mosaic of humanity.
Our individual experience of grief becomes an intrinsic piece of a larger, significant narrative – a reminder of our shared mortality. Collective mourning has a therapeutic aspect. It involves a mutual understanding that allows for vulnerability – something often discouraged in our daily lives.
When DJ Zinhle spoke, her vulnerability became a catalyst for others to voice their feelings. The act of mourning together can be cathartic, offering comfort amid the chaos of grief. It allows us to articulate our pain, and in doing so, we may also find healing.
Mary Oliver’s poem touches on the connection that can emerge when people come together in shared sorrow, transforming their grief into a communal ritual. In a world that often feels fragmented and divided, collective mourning offers a reprieve – a reminder that we are not solitary beings navigating life’s complexities but interconnected souls sharing in each other’s joys and sorrows.
As we continue to witness the power of these shared moments, let us embrace the lessons they impart about empathy, vulnerability, and the healing capacity of community.