True dignity lies in foresight, not funeral frills

HUMILITY AND WARMTH

- YOGIN DEVAN

NARAINAMMAH Moodley (Aunty Baby) ensured her funeral would not be a financial burden on her family, says the writer. | Supplied

(Supplied)

SEVEN months ago, my eighth and last paternal aunt, Narainammah Moodley, passed away at the age of 92, after a long struggle with age-related illness.

We shed tears as we bid farewell to Aunty Baby, as she was lovingly known, surrounded by mourners who had cherished her presence for decades. Yet more than sorrow, there was a celebration of a life lived fully.

She was never wealthy and often had to battle to keep her household together. Her husband, a waiter by trade, was known to pour himself as many drinks as he served to his customers. Although money was always in short supply in her council-built home, my aunt radiated humility and warmth, and her honesty was unwavering. She was slight and delicate, yet her heart overflowed with kindness.

If there was one thing Aunty Baby eagerly looked forward to each month, it was her trip to Chatsworth Centre. The journey itself was part of the delight, walking a stretch of the way, then hopping into a minibus taxi, surrounded by the chatter of fellow passengers. The bustle, the familiar faces, and the small adventure brightened her routine. Upon arriving at the shopping complex, Aunty Baby would head straight for the queue to collect her Sassa grant. She would press the wad of notes to her lips in delight, setting aside a small portion for immediate use and tucking the rest safely into her bra. Of course, the whoonga boys knew all too well where the old aunties hid their money.