By Neil Primus
GODFREY was an easy-going man. He worked at the wharf, and was very popular. He was

divorced and a father of six. All girls. The last two daughters were not with his former wife.
He was a heavy drinker and smoker. One of the two habits caused his demise.
Word of his death spread quickly. The night of the wake were well attended. His big children paid for his funeral expenses. He would be buried in three days.
**The day of his funeral arrived. It was a rainy Saturday. Rain fell all day. It stopped that afternoon an hour before his burial.
Now Godfrey was a member of the Lodge Society. It was one of those hushhush organization that kept certain secrets. Godfrey never spoke of the activities that took place in the Lodge meetings.
His Lodge brothers turned out in their numbers to attend his funeral. The brother at the head of the funeral procession was dressed in his magnificent uniform and had his glittering silver sword swinging as he marched.
The procession moved off from his residence in Caravan and headed for the cemetery. When they arrived there they found the area to be wet, muddy and difficult to negotiate.
All was made ready for the final march to his place of intern. The procession moved off. The leader marched with vigour,banishing his sword. The bearers struggled to keep up because of the slippery ground.
Left! Right! Left! Right! The leader forged ahead. Slip, Slush, Squish, Slush. The bearers tried to keep up. It was laborious work for them. In order to reach the designated burial plot they had to cross a make shift bridge.This bridge consisted of two shaky boards placed parallel to each other and spamming the narrow trench. Because of the rain the trench had spread its bank and stepping onto the board caused them to sink below water level. Everyone got their shoes wet when crossing.
Meanwhile the leader was in full flow. The sword swished, twirled and twisted. As he passed each tomb he gave it a loud broadside with the sword Crack! Bang! Pow! Things came to a head when he struck the wrong tomb.
As he led the procession, he smashed the sword against a green tomb and passed on. Unknown to him the tomb had a hole at the opposite end and had become the territory of a large hive of African bees.
The annoying sound triggered an immediate retaliation. Bees swarmed and charged the leader and all in the procession. In a matter of seconds a well-organized procession disintegrated into total chaos.
The sword was used to try to swat the bees.When that did not work it was abandoned and the owner raced away as fast the soggy ground would allow.
When the attack started the Pall Bearers were halfway across the bridge. They were trying to take tentative steps to prevent too much water from soaking their shoes. The dark cloud of avengers soon put paid to that notion.
As vicious stings hit every exposed area, they were forced to resort to self-preservation. Godfrey was unceremoniously dropped and the party fled swatting themselves as they went.
Those coming at the back of the procession got off lightly.When they realized that bees were on the rampage they took off early. Only a few stings came their way.
Godfrey had an old aunt named Dorothy. She was over sixty and quite overweight. When the bees hit she stooped quickly and snatched up her shoes. You see, she had borrowed them from her cousin and had promised to return them intact. With agility that was unusual for one so old, she huffed and puffed past many younger folks and made it to the safety of her friend’s car.
The exodus was something to see. There was running, slipping, falling, bawling and slushing.
Slip!
Slush!
Splat!
Squish!
Some fell flat. Others slipped and in slow motion hit the mud on their backsides. One man started to go seemed to catch his balance then began to teeter once more. When it seemed that he was okay he fell flat on his face.
Bash!
Mud and water separated to accommodate him.
Two kids; a boy and a girl were having fun during all this chaos. They ran a few yards stopped then took off again. They hopped, jumped and ran. When they reached to safety on the outskirts of the burial ground they looked disappointed that the fun had ended. They still enjoyed some more laughter at the comical, messy confusion unfolding before their eyes. All they had to show for their experience were two or three stings. They were the lucky few.
By the time the cloud had settled the funeral goes were scattered to every point of the compass. It was after dark when some of them were able to quietly complete the purpose of the day.
As for Godfrey, while all hell was breaking lose, he was floating serenely along the trench. They located the casket when it was dark and floated it back to the bridge. From there they picked it up and took it to the tomb. It was one of the quietest burials I had ever seen. The leader had vanished completely.
For weeks after Godfrey’s family and friends talked about his funeral. Most of their comments were not about the deceased. They remembered with clarity the charges of the bees and the flight of the bereaved. They certainly would never forget the stings, swellings and pain inflicted by the angry proprietors whom they had unwittingly disturbed.