I had to go and write a test the next day; I don’t even remember what I wrote because I kept on crying the whole day. It was so painful; I felt like I couldn’t breathe on my own no more. No one knew what I was going through. I tried to stay strong so that no one would see me trying. The day at school was just too long; when I got home I sat outside and cried with my sister and cousins. I thought the pain I felt when daddy died was, bad this…I felt like I was dying…I just couldn’t understand. Why her; why both of my parents?

On our way, home my uncles told us to never cry in front of my father’s family and to just stay strong for our younger sister; it hurt me so bad when I got home, seeing her so dirty like she hadn’t had a bath in years. She told me she just bathed herself. I mean who let a 5-year-old bathe herself? I guess only my granny could do that. I had to bath my sis then go to buy sweets for her.

The funeral cover gave out everything, including some food, which was the only thing I found really funny at my mother’s funeral. We asked to help with anything, but everyone would say no, so we were like visitors at my own mother’s funeral. We had to sit outside in a tent while my mother’s beautiful home for us was full of people that looked at us like we were some piece of shit.

We went in to see her for the last time; she looked so peaceful, like she was having her beautiful sleep she always took during the day after cleaning her house. It was like she smiled and said, “uyaphi [where are you going]”, when I would try to sneak out of the house to play with my friends in the road…but she didn’t say a word, she just slept there.

I tried to be strong, but I went outside and started crying; it was just too much for me. I thought I could do it but I just couldn’t.

I felt so sleepy at night, I had to sleep behind the door in a carpet in my mother’s house though that hurt but it wasn’t a big deal to me , in the morning on the funeral day. I only remember her coffin going down and my siblings and I just breaking down, everyone looking at us like we have done something wrong by crying for our mother. Or are we like stones? They expected us not to cry, I mean how stupid is that to expect a 5, 13, 15 and 17 year old not to cry for knowing very well that they will never get to see their mother or again straight after they had just accepted the loss of their father? People expect everything to be fine without knowing the pain we are going through.

Tell us: Do you think they had every right to cry over their mother?