Last week, Chapita Potwayo, one of Senior Chief Nzamane’s two advisors, passed away after a long illness. Two thousand people from all over Mfumbeni chiefdom gathered in Potwayo village to mourn his passing, and I was invited by Senior Chief Nzamane to experience the Ngoni funeral ceremony.

Nkosi Nzamane asked that I bring a camera. I was uneasy. I already felt self conscious as such an obvious outsider, and I thought wielding a camera around would cause grave offence.

But as soon as I arrived, I was relieved to find that my camera was not the only one documenting the proceedings. According to Joseph Banda, a member of the Mfumbeni Traditional Council responsible for archiving tradition and culture in the chiefdom, filming and photography of momentous events has recently been permitted under new customs and culture laws passed by Chief Nzamane, and there were two other people already taking photos as I joined the congregation.

Banda has documented the past four significant funerals himself. He requested a copy of my footage in advance and told me I was to feel comfortable recording as much of the ceremony as I liked. The congregation paid little attention to me or my camera.

The men sat huddled in neat rows under a cluster of mango trees to one side of the clearing, and the women and children in the shade of surrounding houses and bushes on the other. In the centre, a group of dancers were performing mghubho funeral dances, their voices soaring above the respectful hum of hushed voices among the crowd.

“They are singing sorrowful songs. In Ngoni culture, we dance in peace time to celebrate happiness, but we also dance at times of sadness, to mourn the loss of a loved one and to celebrate their life,” Joseph Banda explained.

Men and women took it in turns to lead the group in song, which took the form of call and response. A group in the centre of the circle of dancers beat an animal skin to keep time as the dancers stomped their feet and swayed to the music.

Some of the male performers wore njozi animal skins tied around their waists, or fashioned as headdresses, while the women had their heads covered and were wearing colourful chitenge (wraps). The centre of the village swirled with colour and sound, a powerful and vibrant display of emotion that stood in contrast to our own more sombre traditions of mourning at home.

Following two hours of dancing and singing, Senior Chief Nzamane led the other chiefs, village head men and their nduna (advisors) to the graveside, while Head Man Kapachika outlined the forthcoming proceedings to the congregation.

An Apostolic priest then led the mourners in Christian prayer, before the coffin was carried out into the centre of the gathering. A woman began to cry aloud, and soon, she was joined by many others as they publicly displayed their sorrow. The performers began to dance once more, and as their songs mixed with the cacophony of female cries, the men filed past the open casket one by one to pay their last respects, followed by the women.

The coffin was then carried 200 metres into the bush to the grave, led by a group of priests and nuns, and followed by the mghubho dancers – a poignant emphasis of how Christianity and tribal tradition are interwoven in Ngoni culture and ritual.

There was little shade at the burial site, as the bush is dried out and leafless at this time of year, but the congregation sought it out wherever they could, clustering beneath the defoliated trees. As the coffin was lowered into the grave, members of the church took turns to say prayers.

When the grave was filled with earth, the dancers circled the mound singing as the chiefs and nduna laid flowers. Chief Nzamane and his wife were the last to pay their respects before Potwayo’s family gathered to mourn together and have their pictures taken at the graveside as the priest made his closing remarks.

As the mourners began to disperse, I noticed that some are carrying blankets and small parcels. They walked far to be here to pay their respects to the Chapita, and spent the night in the bush the previous night. They were evidently tired after the five hour ceremony, and eager to get going on their long journey home.

I recently lost someone close to me who insisted that his funeral should be a celebration of life rather than death. He had spent some time living in Cameroon in recent years, and I wonder if he attended a funeral during his time there. While grief is an inexorable and invaluable part of the process of mourning, I left Potwayo’s funeral that day moved yet uplifted. The congregation mourned and expressed grief at the passing of their Chapita, but they also celebrated his life through song and dance.