Unity through calamity 

One always thinks he is free from all danger until calamity strikes home. For us last week, calamity struck our hearts with the demise of our beloved family member, who lost her battle to COVID-19.

Inauathul Rimza, who we fondly called Inaya wore many hats; one of a daughter, wife, mother and sister. For me, she wore the hat of a sister-in-law, a role she fulfilled with so much love. She was the eldest of my wife’s siblings.

Inaya received the second vaccination for COVID-19 around the second week of July, and soon after came down with a fever. She, along with the rest of us, was of the view that the fever was due to the vaccine. However, her situation deteriorated in the next few days.  

Despite repeated requests and pleas from the family, she refused to take a PCR. Inaya was afraid. Afraid of what the result might be, afraid of what would happen if the worst is confirmed.

As she lived alone after the death of her husband, and three of her four children being abroad, it was rather difficult to convince Inaya to get tested. Somehow on 16 July, she realised it wasn’t getting better and we managed to make arrangements for her to get tested at home. 

The worst was confirmed, and now our 66-year-old sister, also a diabetic patient, saw her health condition worsen.

She agreed to go to a healthcare facility, a paid quarantine centre. However, soon after Inaya was in the ambulance, she suffered a cardiac arrest. The medics headed towards a leading private hospital where she was immediately placed in the ICU, and then on the ventilator.

The virus was way ahead and active in her body. Inaya was in pneumonia – third stage. We knew her chances were slim, but we didn’t give up in our efforts and prayers.

As we know, private medical treatment is a costly affair. In just a day and a half, her bill exceeded Rs. 1 million. This is when we reached out to IDH seeking for a transfer. With Colombo being a hotspot for COVID-19 infection, the ICUs had reached full capacity.  

Still, the doctor in charge at the IDH coordinated with the Ministry of Health and Indigenous Medical Services and stepped up efforts in finding an available ICU bed with ventilator facility. Within three hours, we were told that a bed was available at the Anuradhapura General Hospital and all the necessary arrangements were being made to receive the patient.

With the consent of the family, on 21 July, Inaya was transferred to Anuradhapura in a fully-equipped ambulance. Few members of the family; my wife, Inaya’s son who just returned from overseas, and myself, followed the ambulance and did the needful to hand her over.

The hospital staff, across all levels, were highly professional, and most importantly, sensitive to our situation. 

The family returned to Colombo no sooner she was admitted. There was no use of us lingering around given we cannot visit her. 

From the time we left the hospital, we received frequent updates about her condition, and the last we received for the day was that she will be put on antibiotics to tackle the pneumonia. If her condition improves, then great, else, on 24 July, the doctors would take a call to take her off the ventilator. 

We were hopeful. On 22 July, around 8 a.m. I received a call. Inaya had passed away around 7:30 a.m. that morning.

The hospital had already started on the procedures required to release her body so she can be buried at the Oddamavadi COVID-19 burial site.

It was all too sudden. We were yet to digest that we lost her. The hospital realised this.

The Anuradhapura PHI got in touch to provide a brief on the procedures we need to follow, and the documents needed to clear her body and for the burial.

It was not a brief but an in-depth session on what we needed to do. They shared with us the contact numbers of the Police Post, Appointed Coroner, Mosque committee member, and others.

The first step was to get clearance from our area PHI to travel to the burial site. The officer, putting his duty first despite it being a long weekend, came in to give us the required clearance so we could start our journey.

By 1 p.m., we were on our way, and by 6 p.m., we were at Anuradhapura General Hospital. Inaya’s body was already sealed and placed at the mortuary. The Anuradhapura PHI received us and continued to stay on, even after his duty hours, to ensure everything was ready. 

By 9 p.m., her death certificate was issued. It was too late to take for burial, so we were informed the body will be shown to us in the morning, after which we will start to the burial site.

On 24 July, 8:30 a.m., six of us stood at the entrance of the mortuary. The Army escort had already arrived, and was soon joined by the police. 

A municipal council member made the necessary arrangement for the vehicle to transport the body, and the Anuradhapura Janaza committee had readied the coffin.

At 9 a.m. we were given a heads-up on the events that would take place in the next hour and the necessary protocols that must be followed when in the mortuary.

At 9:30 a.m. we were taken to the mortuary where the body of our beloved family member was in the freezing chamber. As suggested by the staff, the family was gathered via Zoom to see our beloved one last time. We were asked to be all set before entering the mortuary as the face will be shown for no more than three to four minutes.

As we lined up inside the room, the staff opened the chamber Inaya rested in, slit the first body bag near the face area, then proceeded to slit the second transparent polythene like sheet. As soon as her face was in view, the third staffer sprayed the exposed area of the body with disinfectant. 

Just as promised, we were given our three minutes to see Inaya for the last time. The staff stepped aside for us to have our privacy. 

While we exited the mortuary, the body was already transferred to the coffin and was sealed shut. The coffin was then brought in a stretcher to the entrance of the mortuary where we were allowed to hold our two-minute funeral prayer. 

They adjusted the coffin to face the Qibla (direction of the Kabah), so we could carry out the final rights in the proper manner.

No sooner we were done; the body was carried to the vehicle to transport to the burial site.

They gave us time to gather ourselves given that we were visibly shaken up. Once we were emotionally settled and ready to start our journey to Oddamavadi, the Army took the lead, whereas the police were positioned behind the vehicle carrying the body.

We joined the procession. As we passed a district, the Police escort changed, while the Army escort remained.

We arrived at the burial ground at 12:30 p.m. The area PHI and Police checked the documentation and ensured all are in place. By 1 a.m. the body was handed over for burial. Onsite was a dedicated team who would be handling the process.

Once again, the PHI of that area explained to us how the burial process would take place. 

Only two members of the family were allowed for the Janaza prayer that was carried out by the area mosque, led by a Moulavi.

Although no one was allowed to the site itself, and rightly so, we were able to witness the process at a distance. 

An announcement was made by the Army that the taking of photographs and videos will not be allowed by any means since the privacy of the families who are grieving their loss should be respected. Not just by words, but the authorities present were strict on ensuring no such event takes place. This we understand and appreciate.

Once all was done, we were given a token to identify the grave should we want to visit when the pandemic eases.

That particular day, there were 17 burials taking place, 15 Muslims, and two belonging to other faiths.

This situation I hope and pray no one would have to go through. The emotional toll is unbearable. Yet, the relevant authorities made the entire process as seamless as possible, without seeking any financial commitments in return. That latter is what we often assume is necessary to get things done. 

From the point of admission to the state hospital to the burial site, professionalism was maintained at all times while adhering to strict health protocols.

At the comfort of our homes, we so very easily forget or dismiss the difficulties faced by the authorities during the pandemic. They are doing their utmost best in every possible way.

What I witnessed in this situation was certainly unity through calamity. Regardless of religion and race, putting aside all differences, if any, my dear brothers and sisters, came forward with no hesitation to fulfil their duty towards us, the citizens, and towards the nation. 

If at all we can return the favour, it is by being cautions with our actions during this pandemic, adhering to the necessary measures, and cooperating with the necessary authorities when the need arises.

Most importantly, let’s be courteous, with our actions and words towards them and give credit where due.

On behalf of the family, I thank from the bottom of my heart; all the front liners who are courageous and bold to place their lives at risk to protect the people of our country, the PHIs of Colombo, Anuradhapura, and Oddamavadi, Anuradhapura General Hospital staff and doctors, the Army Commander and his team, Sri Lanka Police, and the community leaders who went through great strides for months to allow burial of COVID-19 deaths, regardless of the religion. 

We also must appreciate the local community at Oddamavadi for allowing the entire country to bury their loved ones in their land. 

Last but not the least, the county leadership, President Gotabaya Rajapaksa, and Prime Minister Mahinda Rajapaksa for their efforts in ensuring the best service is offered by the State to the people in these trying times.

Mohammed Fazal Ibrahim

Brother-in-Law of Inayathul Rimza

[email protected]