The chairs were placed at least 1m (3ft) apart – family sat on one side, church officials on the other. Everyone wore a mask.
Everyone knew of the strict instructions that the Kenyan government had laid down for funerals during the coronavirus pandemic.
Only 15 people could gather for the burial of my cousin, Chris, and everything had to be done by 09:00 local time.
By 07:00 the rest of us had gathered, in front of our phones and computers, watching the burial unfold as a friend live-streamed it on Facebook.
There were hundreds of us to pay our last respects to Chris. He was a people’s person – the life and soul of family parties.
His deep laugh reached you even before he set foot in the house – in fact, you could hear it 200m away at the gate.
And Chris used to show up for people, be it at funerals or weddings. He was a great mobiliser, rallying people for all occasions.
So, on this day, we showed up for him too. But not being there meant it was not the same.
‘We couldn’t play his favourite songs’
Chris was my immediate cousin, but we were raised in the same house and he was more than a brother to me.
He died in Kisumu in western Kenya on Easter Sunday, after being unwell for a few weeks with liver cirrhosis.
The government gave us the guidelines for his burial. He had to be buried within three days.
But with many of his family and friends under lockdown in the capital, Nairobi, not everyone could attend the burial.
The sermon was short. The speeches were restricted. And there was very little singing.
Chris loved music – he played the drum kit in the Salvation Army church band. So it was painful that nobody could be there to play his favourite songs.