There was a wakekeeping last night, and all of Patriensa was alive with noise. At the bar, young folks danced to local music. Most everybody who did drink, was drunk. Stereo systems echoed down the town’s hill. And the streets were packed with people in their funeral clothes. Some people dressed in red or black, signifying that they were somehow in trouble due to this person’s departure.

I arrived at the wakekeeping just in time to see them move the body with a fireman’s carry into the room where the coffin was. She was dressed in a fancy dress but barefoot.

People were dancing, crying, and carrying large gift baskets full of soap for the soul to clean up with before her journey. The deejay was blasting that clubby stadium booty rock. I danced a bit and the mourners were quite impressed by popping and locking. When we sauntered back to the bar for more booze, a young woman wailed by the door as the adjacent PA blasted the electronic bomb sound to announce the next club hit.