Early the next morning, Calla get some of the field slave them to knock a hole in the wall of Jonnie hut. Then them have to carry old cripple Jonnie corpse out through this hole. When them get him outside, them have to lower him down and lift him up three times, making sure the body touch the earth, before them raise it up again. After, them must cover back up the hole. Lock up the windows, the door, so according to Calla, him duppie not going be able to return.

By then everybody show up and with much drumming and strumming of instruments, the funeral procession start up in force. Leading the way is Jonnie corpse wrapped in a cloth, proudly carried on the shoulders of the strongest and tallest of the field slave them. The body going get buried in the burial ground up on the hill. To get there, the body must be carried up along the path that wind through the slave village.

The first hut the procession come to, Calla call a stop. Call out to the slave who live in the hut.

‘You do anything wrong to old cripple Jonnie?’ Calla ask, pounding her cane on the ground.

‘No!’ the slave shout out and we all breathe a sigh of relief. The procession can move on to the next hut.

Each time is the same thing. Except when we get to the second to last hut. The hut that belong to Winston. Calla call out to him and him say no. But when the corpse bearer them try to move, is like them can’t leave. The corpse get heavy. Start to rock from side to side. And the corpse bearer them start to sweat, to shake, overcome with weakness. Calla must put a stop to it right away. She shout out again.

‘Winston! You done any wrong to old cripple Jonnie?’

This time Winston shout out in such a loud voice that him swear him do no wrongdoing to Jonnie, the corpse suddenly lay quiet. Allow the procession to keep going.

Even though we set out from Jonnie hut in the morning, we don’t reach the burial ground before late afternoon. When we get there, Calla say to dig the grave deeper. She not happy bout what happen outside Winston hut. She don’t want spend her nights taking care of no duppie.

Then we all gather round. Calla standing at the head of the grave holding her arms up high, mumbling prayers of the dead as the corpse get lowered down. At last Jonnie in him final resting place. And I watch as the whiteness of him shroud turn from new to old when we pour the water we use to clean him body all over him. Watch as it start to bleed from the crushed-up peppers. Turn brown from the rum and the last of the food laid out on him altar.