The
Boomerang November 2020
Five Funerals in One Week by Arnoud Roelfsema
Illustration © Vivian Liang
I set my alarm last night before I started drinking: being late is not an option. The drive is about an hour, and together with three other guys, all in the same white shirt and black trousers, I am listening to the radio. “The police once again have dispersed multiple parties with several hundreds of people in forests and warehouses throughout the country”. I see heads shaking and hear a cynical chuckle combined with a sigh of disbelief escape from underneath a facemask.
sometimes for not being able to do whatever I want; to host a big party for my birthday, to go to an open mic and play my heart out with others, or to take a flight to a foreign country ‘because I really need a break’.
Arriving at our location, my eyes scan the area. Who is already here? And more importantly, who is not? All I can do for now is guess. One of my friends from UCU as a joke last week said that it seemed like I was practicing becoming a detective: he is not wrong, I could be, but I’m not. I am a third year UCU student working as a pallbearer on the side. Last week I worked at five funerals, out of which three were related to Corona.
“The police once again have dispersed multiple parties with several hundreds of people in forests and ware- houses throughout the country” When I look around, I see people my age, people my age who are very sad. Not the kind of sad I get
This kind of sad is worse. While we are waiting for the hearse on the side of the street, one or two jokes are cracked. Soon after that, we are slowly walking through whatever city was on the list for today. Bystanders show respect by gently nodding their heads. On
another note, the roaring sound of a grinder coming from a garage and the bikers trying to slip through the cracks of the procession are a subtle reminder that although some people’s worlds have crashed down and are completely paralyzed, the earth won’t stop spinning, not for anyone; not for your father, mother, brother, sister, cousin, uncle, niece or the literal love of your life. Back home, I crack open a cold one with some of my unit mates: tonight, we are having a little sesh. Whatever I witnessed today; it will not dominate my mood. As a matter of fact, it completely slips my mind once Stan starts hitting me with some fat beats using Logic Pro loops on the big speakers after he’s cracked me up by doing a Boston accent. The mourning faces of all those who lost someone have disappeared. The last songs they chose to be played are not stuck in my head. The flowers they put on the coffin have not left their scent with me. I am fortunate enough that I don’t have to feel anything. Until I wake up the next morning and hear that some big parties took place on our campus the night before. At that moment, I feel everything.
" I am a third year UCU student working as a pallbearer on the side. Last week I worked at five funerals, out of which three were related to Corona." UCU in 500 words
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