We followed the hearse to the grave yard, I so wanted to turn the car around and just skip this part but I knew Andiswa and Cleo would never forgive me if I did that even though every fibre of my being and every cell in my body said don’t go there.   It was another slow drive and eventually we arrived, she was being buried in some cemetery in Alberton, thank goodness white people don’t do funerals on weekends but rather during the week so it was very empty we were the only funeral there and to think the number of times we had gone to funerals in Soweto and had to go to Avalon cemetery we would always and I mean always end up at a wrong funeral and we would only realise that this is not the funeral we had come to when people would start crying and fainting and you realise this is not the family of the deceased but a different family and we would have to walk around looking for the right funeral passing lots and lots of burials going on and by the time you find the one you were meant to attend you will find them packing up and getting ready to go.