This is the last first edition of a small reportage about the burial of a voodoo practitioner. He was ayoung (born in 76), who played in a rasta music group. His funeral was a mixture of sadness and joy.
I was in the cemetery looking for any image related to the Vudu and suddenly appeared a group of guys carrying a coffin and singing. Behind them was the family, with faces of great sadness and pain. The funeral was a real show, they opened the coffin several times to take last pictures with him, give him drink some rum and, of course, as is normal in a voodoo funeral, to put a large rock of salt on a hand, to ensure that he could not become a Zombie.