By Rumbidzai Olivia Mubirira
Harare— Every day in Zimbabwe, two industries meet the same family, hours apart, but never speak to each other.
On one side is the trauma team. On the other side is the funeral services provider. One fights to preserve life. The other fights to preserve dignity in death. Both deal with shock, blood, tears and sudden phone calls at 2am.
Yet there is no bridge between them.
Statistics from Zimbabwe’s major hospitals show that over 70 percent of trauma cases are road traffic accidents, sudden cardiac arrests and workplace injuries. These are the same cases that funeral service providers in Harare, Bulawayo and Mutare handle the next day when lives are not saved.
On Monday, a family rushes to a hospital casualty department in Borrowdale or Parirenyatwa. On Tuesday, the same family is walking into a funeral parlour, looking for a coffin, transport and someone to explain the paperwork.
The pain is the same. Only the uniform changes.
Research in emergency care shows that families rarely remember the medical procedure. They remember how they were treated.
They remember whether the doctor looked them in the eye and said, “We did our best, mother.”
In the funeral industry, the same applies. Families rarely remember the model of the casket. They remember whether the team arrived on time, whether their loved one was handled with care, whether someone said, “We are here with you.”
Both professions are built on one word: dignity.
Trauma care protects the dignity of life when it is bleeding. Funeral services protect the dignity of death when life is gone.
Currently in Zimbabwe, when a patient dies in hospital, the family is handed a death notification and told to proceed to the mortuary. From there, they are left alone to navigate police reports, burial orders and funeral service providers while still in shock.
There is no formal liaison between hospitals and funeral service providers. There is no grief counsellor who walks with the family from the hospital door to the funeral home door.
In countries like Australia and South Africa, this gap is filled by trauma social workers and bereavement officers who remain with families from the emergency department to burial.
Zimbabwe can adopt the same model at low cost. Hospitals could have a dedicated bereavement desk staffed jointly by hospital staff and trained funeral service personnel. Funeral service providers could train their frontline staff in basic psychological first aid and first aid for mourners who collapse during funerals.
It’s a shared responsibility.
Funeral services in Zimbabwe have evolved beyond body collection. Leading providers now offer counselling, repatriation, insurance advice and grief support. Trauma centres have also evolved beyond surgery, offering counselling and family support units.
The next evolution is partnership.
If the first 60 minutes after an accident — known as the Golden Hour — determines survival, the first 60 minutes after a death — the Golden Call — determines how a family will grieve. Both hours need calm voices, clear information and the simple assurance: “We are coming.”
When trauma care and funeral services recognise that they serve the same family on the same journey, just at different times of their worst day, Zimbabwe’s emergency care system will be truly complete
