Footsteps and bright colors filled the room along with a deathly heat radiating from the stove that stood two feet away.
The smell of food and crying children strangled the little breeze the air conditioner managed to produce.
Their dark skin completely draped with the colors of the sun, they came to pay their respect with prayer and laughter.
A pink colored curtain separated the women along with their children from the men.
This was an unusual funeral where the people were philosophical about the demise of human life.
They ate and recited Arabic prayer verses from the Islamic holy book, the Koran.
No one predicted or assumed that the dead person's spirit would be in heaven; they only hoped while they prayed for the gate of heaven to accept him.
His name was Abdi Yare, a former refugee from Somalia.
He had lived a life of sorrow and joy.
Being born himself and later having children in a country destined for a never-ending turmoil, in his wildest dreams, he never imagined of dying in a foreign soil.
In his lonely bed in Mass General Hospital death had come in the form of multiple complications.
For many months, he battled death with medications but eventually death won.
The medications had stopped working, and slowly his body began to shut down.
He had lost his entire body weight, eventually falling into a coma that took his final breath.
All these people with their bright clothes had now gathered in this room to remember and uphold memories of him.
These were people who on a normal day divided and hated each other by using the clan way of life that has killed millions in the more than a decode-long civil war in Somalia.
People often confuse clans with tribes.
A tribe is a group of people that share different languages, religions or even race.
A tribe is different from a clan where people share the same language, religion and race.
In Somalia, clans were manipulated as a method of division and rule by the colonial powers: the British, Italians and the French.
These mourners also former refugees brought their destructive behaviors to their new residence in the United States and worldwide.
Mourning the loss of this man temporarily freed their souls of the clan system of hate for each other.
In this muggy room humanity entered the hearts of these people.
Clans and Sub-Clans of Hawiye, Darood, and Isaq sat together to grieve the loss of this life.
The funeral lasted three days, and like the weight of a heavy rain, oceans of people continued to pour.
Abdi Yare's body was kept in the biggest Masjid in Boston located in Roxbury.
His body was cleaned and adorned with a rug-like cloth stained with verses from the Koran.
Hundreds prayed in front of his dead wrapped remains.
No one cried.
Everyone seemed to have accepted his fate and found ways to comfort each other by using religion.
After the long prayer at the Masjid, his body was moved to a location for its final rest.
The area where his body was to be buried was property bought by the Somali community of Greater Boston.
At the funeral the men were given the duty of burying the body while the women watched from a distance.
A charismatic Islamic priest with a smooth captivating voice stood at the edge of the grave speaking to the gatherers.
Sinners and saints stood side by side while the priest's voice echoed through the air.
Everyone could feel Abdi Yare's spirit in the form of the gentle sweet breeze that came moving the bright scarves worn by the women attendees.
The sun stood bright, making the voice of the skilled priest even more powerful than it really was.