CHRISTCHURCH, New Zealand — Azaam Afaan did not want to be late. The first funeral since Friday’s terrorist attack was about to begin, and though he had no idea who was being buried, he just knew he needed to participate.
Staring through dark sunglasses at the cemetery’s fringe — fighting back tears for a slain friend, as hundreds of mourners approached a hilltop of dirt cut open with row after row of graves — he said he wanted to be part of someone’s goodbye.
“It’s like you’re short of breath,” he said, explaining what it has been like to wait so long for the burials to begin after a gunman killed 50 people at two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand. “Now we can breathe freely. They’re going to the place they’re supposed to be.”
Islam’s rituals of death prioritize immediate burial and a joyful departure. But as the first six victims were laid to rest on Wednesday in a city where flowers and police tape still fill intersections, the opportunities for relief continued to be elusive, drawing out sorrow, allowing time for relatives to arrive from abroad and delivering closure in spare droplets.
[Dozens of victims were buried on Friday as Christchurch residents and visitors shared a Muslim call to prayer.]
The process of identifying bodies has been, by all accounts, meticulous, in line with international standards and New Zealand’s strict procedures for murder victims. It has also been divisive.
Some of the affected families described the process as paternalistic.
“We’ve been doing this for 1,400 years — we don’t need instructions,” said Saad Nasser, 57, as he departed the day’s first funeral, for Khaled Mustafa, 44, and his son, Hamza Mustafa, 16, Syrian refugees who had moved to New Zealand last year.
Families and some officials spoke of rifts emerging as coroners work overtime to identify the victims while many wonder what is taking so long to bury the dead.
Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern told reporters on Wednesday that she shared the families’ frustration.
“I know the process has been incredibly difficult and frustratingly slow,” she said.
Only a few hours earlier, she had spoken to a student assembly at Cashmere High School. Three of the school’s students had been excused to attend Friday Prayer, as they regularly did. They were all shot at Al Noor mosque, and two died.
One student raised her hand with a question that no one had yet asked the prime minister in public.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Thank you for asking,” Ms. Ardern said. “I’m very sad.”
The limbo of loss without burial has rearranged the routines of life across Christchurch, where new buildings sit beside empty lots — reminders of the earthquakes that devastated the city in 2010 and 2011.
This city of around 375,000 people is for the moment filled with emptiness — with children out of class and offices unused — and also flooded with the world’s humanity.
In their simple home at the edge of a quiet park, Nadim Than, 58, the uncle of Talha Rashid and brother of Naeem Rashid — who tried to tackle the gunman when he first entered the Al Noor Mosque during Friday Prayer, only to be shot and killed — welcomed not just long-missed brothers and other relatives from Pakistan on Wednesday.
He said his family had received at least 50, and probably closer to 100, visitors paying respects: Christians, Hindus, Sikhs; well-wishers from Fiji, Australia, England, and New Zealand itself.
“We feel energized when someone comes,” he said. “At night we feel uneasy, because we have no one.”
Their brother, the one who had always been the high-achiever in business and faith — “Naeem the Great” was how he signed his letters as a child — was gone. And still unseen.
Earlier in the day, Mr. Than had sent a text message to a reporter: “No update on bodies received here.”
In many ways, that was the craving that needed most to be satisfied.
Police Commissioner Mike Bush said on Wednesday that the authorities were working long hours, with extra assistance. He corrected the timeline of the attack, noting that the police had arrested the suspect 21 minutes after the first distress call, down from the initial police report of 36 minutes.
But he also said that as of 11:30 p.m. on Tuesday, roughly 100 hours after the shootings, the New Zealand authorities had identified and planned to release just 21 bodies.
[The Times has compiled profiles of many of the victims. Read them here.]
In the bare, white living room of an Airbnb house near the center of Christchurch, just before the coroners finished for the night, Haneen Alayan, 25, and Abdallah Alayan, 21, were waiting to hear whether their brother — Atta Elayyan, 33, a New Zealand futsal player and head of an app development company — would be among them.
Abdallah Alayan said he wasn’t picking up phone calls from people he knew, as he waited for an official answer. But every time his phone rang with an unfamiliar local number, he jumped to answer it.
“We can’t miss these calls,” said his sister.
In the living room were Mr. Elayyan’s friends, talking and laughing together, remembering their brother — a patient family man who could always be relied upon for good advice (and giving sharp amateur haircuts). There were so many people waiting for Atta Elayyan that they had filled this house, and another across town.
They said they had received “99.9 percent confirmation” from the police that Mr. Elayyan was killed at Al Noor Mosque. His father, Mohammad Alayan, was also shot and is recovering in the hospital.
But as of Wednesday night the family was still waiting for a formal post-mortem to give complete certainty. What they longed for: their brother’s body to be returned to them and buried.
Outside the Linwood cemetery, a potent silence surrounded most of those who entered, leaving only the sound of a breeze blowing through fall leaves.
The mourners started to appear in droves just before 11 a.m. for the first funeral, for Khaled Mustafa and his son, Hamza.
The Mustafa family had fled civil war and spent several years in Jordan waiting for a country to accept them.
They arrived in New Zealand last July, and eight months later, they were killed in the attack, leaving behind a grieving family.
Mr. Afaan, 38 and originally from Fiji, spoke quietly of the dead. “This is the final resting place for them, from here onward,” he said.
Inside, hundreds of mourners — close friends and visitors from around the world who never knew them — squeezed together in groups, men at the front, women near the back.
Just before 12:30 p.m., Sheikh Mohammad Amir, the chairman of the Religious Advisory Board of the Federation of Islamic Associations of New Zealand, advised everyone that together they would say the Salat al-Janazah, the Muslim funeral prayer featuring a call and response with four recitations of “Allahu akbar,” then walk with the family as they carried the dead to the graves.
Hamza’s brother Zaid — who was in a wheelchair after being shot in the leg — could be seen rolling over the bumpy ground as the body of his father and brother were carried in simple wooden boxes.
“Throw three handfuls,” Sheikh Amir announced over the loudspeaker, referring to the Muslim tradition of tossing dirt into the grave. “Please, brothers, just use your hands so everyone can participate.”
Backhoes had dug the graves; there were 10 rows of rectangular holes.
At the edge, two young men embraced, paused, then embraced again. Mourners later said there were so many people that they could only throw one handful of dirt, not three.
“It’s just so heartbreaking,” Shazia Bano, 35, said as she walked to her car.
A few hours later, at 5 p.m., it was time for more.
Thicker clouds had gathered, the wind had picked up and the crowd looked a bit smaller. One by one, four more bodies were prayed over and carried to their final resting places.
There was Junaid Ismail, 36, a Christchurch native who worked at the family business, a dairy. He had a wife and three children.
There was Ashraf Ali, a longtime Christchurch resident originally from Fiji, and Lilik Abdul Hamid, originally from Indonesia. Cheerful and well-liked, he had been an aircraft maintenance engineer with Air New Zealand for 16 years.
Finally, there was a man the police had identified but not named publicly, possibly because he was the first one killed in the attack. (The suspect, Brenton H. Tarrant, has been charged with one count of murder and is expected to face many more.)
He was laid to rest surrounded as the sun faded by those he loved and those he barely knew. Christchurch, finally, was beginning to move on.B:
2017年88期跑狗玄机图【离】【歌】【强】【制】【的】【喂】【着】【那】【孕】【妇】，【喝】【着】【肉】【粥】，【虽】【然】【自】【己】【也】【很】【是】【害】【怕】，【但】【仍】【不】【忘】【安】【抚】【着】【她】 “【别】【怕】，【我】【已】【叫】【人】【进】【城】【去】【寻】【郎】【中】【了】，【只】【要】【郎】【中】【来】【了】，【你】【定】【会】【没】【事】【的】，【你】【的】【孩】【子】【亦】【会】【没】【事】，【但】【前】【提】【是】，【现】【在】【你】【自】【己】【要】【挺】【住】，【要】【给】【郎】【中】【来】【的】【时】【间】，【知】【道】【吗】？” “【嗯】，【谢】【谢】【你】……”【孕】【妇】【眼】【中】【含】【泪】，【一】【口】【一】【口】【的】【吃】【着】【离】【歌】【喂】【给】【她】【的】【粥】，【情】
【一】【派】【万】【年】【大】【宗】，【半】【日】【不】【到】，【几】【乎】【灭】【宗】，【不】【知】【在】【北】【冥】【秘】【境】【的】【重】【山】【阁】【阁】【主】【汪】【中】【腾】【知】【晓】【后】，【会】【是】【何】【等】【惊】【怒】。 【卢】【听】【雪】【等】【人】【在】【浓】【雾】【散】【去】【前】，【早】【已】【离】【去】【多】【时】，【现】【已】【来】【到】【了】【千】【剑】【宗】【不】【远】【处】。 【池】【元】【吉】【曾】【经】【常】【来】【千】【剑】【宗】，【望】【着】【远】【处】【烟】【雾】【缭】【绕】【的】【一】【尺】【崖】，【宛】【如】【昨】【日】【才】【来】【过】。 【轰】—— 【一】【把】【惊】【天】【血】【剑】【从】【晴】【天】【白】【云】【中】【劈】【下】，【剑】【光】【之】【威】
“【叔】【叔】？”【祁】【霂】【宛】【不】【知】【所】【措】【地】【看】【着】【面】【色】【沉】【寂】【的】【骆】【子】【承】，【小】【心】【翼】【翼】【地】【唤】【了】【一】【声】。 【不】【是】【刚】【才】【都】【还】【好】【好】【的】【吗】？ 【骆】【子】【承】【右】【手】【转】【而】【揽】【上】【她】【的】【腰】【身】，【将】【她】【拉】【近】【了】【些】，【低】【声】【问】【道】：“【化】【妆】【舞】【会】【上】【发】【生】【了】【什】【么】？” 【祁】【霂】【宛】【眨】【了】【眨】【眼】【睛】：“【没】【什】【么】【啊】……” 【难】【道】【小】【熊】【说】【了】【什】【么】？ 【骆】【子】【承】【脸】【色】【一】【黑】：“【宛】【儿】。” 【祁】【霂】
【没】【有】【任】【何】【的】【过】【场】【废】【话】，【韩】【乐】【几】【人】【不】【会】【傻】【乎】【乎】【的】【问】【黑】【袍】【人】“【你】【是】【谁】”，【黑】【袍】【人】【也】【不】【会】【傻】【乎】【乎】【的】【自】【顾】【自】【的】【开】【始】【自】【我】【介】【绍】，【双】【方】【一】【上】【来】【就】【是】【全】【力】【以】【赴】【的】【攻】【防】【战】。 【嘴】【里】【快】【速】【念】【叨】【着】【谁】【也】【听】【不】【懂】【的】【话】【语】，【黑】【袍】【人】【周】【围】【的】【水】【面】【上】【凭】【空】【浮】【现】【出】【一】【串】【不】【断】【扭】【动】【的】【黑】【色】【蚯】【蚓】【一】【样】【的】【文】【字】，【与】【此】【同】【时】，【一】【道】【若】【有】【若】【无】【的】【拱】【门】【出】【现】【在】【黑】【袍】【人】【的】2017年88期跑狗玄机图【电】【视】【机】？ 【经】【过】【多】【年】【的】【发】【展】，【他】【们】【现】【在】【能】【够】【制】【造】【出】【电】【视】【机】【来】，【李】【愔】【倒】【是】【并】【不】【意】【外】。 【毕】【竟】，【他】【们】【已】【经】【能】【够】【制】【造】【出】【放】【映】【机】【来】。 【而】【电】【视】【机】【比】【放】【映】【机】，【当】【然】【要】【复】【杂】【的】【多】，【但】【是】【还】【是】【有】【不】【少】【相】【通】【的】【地】【方】【的】。 【不】【过】，【光】【有】【电】【视】【机】，【你】【有】【信】【号】【吗】？ 【你】【有】【节】【目】【吗】？ 【如】【果】【只】【有】【电】【视】【机】，【而】【没】【有】【信】【号】，【也】【没】【有】【电】【视】【台】【的】
【子】【夜】【时】【分】，【血】【光】【透】【过】【密】【室】【墙】【壁】【上】【的】【的】【窗】，【投】【射】【到】【九】【曜】【身】【上】。【一】【缕】【火】【光】【俨】【然】【包】【裹】【出】【住】【他】，【一】【双】【警】【觉】【锐】【利】【的】【眸】【子】【赫】【然】【掀】【开】。 【火】【光】【消】【失】【之】【际】，【结】【界】【随】【之】【消】【散】，【只】【是】【短】【短】【一】【瞬】【间】，【他】【化】【回】【里】【人】【形】，【俨】【然】【居】【高】【临】【下】【立】【在】【白】【凤】【身】【边】。 【彼】【时】【白】【凤】【正】【趴】【在】【岩】【石】【上】【熟】【睡】，【睫】【毛】【在】【眼】【窝】【里】【晕】【出】【了】【阴】【影】，【月】【光】【照】【射】【下】，【她】【的】【一】【张】【脸】【显】【得】【越】
【这】**【清】【完】【全】【就】【想】【置】【她】【于】【死】【地】，【不】【给】【她】【翻】【身】【的】【机】【会】。 “【我】【已】【经】【和】【瑞】【祺】【说】【了】，【就】【看】【他】【怎】【么】【处】【理】【了】。”【白】【天】【皓】【却】【握】【了】【握】【舒】【筱】【廷】【的】【小】【手】，【轻】【声】【道】。 【舒】【筱】【廷】【低】【头】【却】【没】【再】【说】【话】。 【做】【人】【有】【必】【要】【做】【得】【那】【么】【绝】【吗】？ 【这】【么】【做】，【对】【她】【有】【什】【么】【好】【处】【呢】？ 【舒】【筱】【廷】【实】【在】【是】【想】【不】【通】。 “【好】【了】，【不】【要】【想】【了】。【再】【想】，【皱】【纹】【就】【得】【出】【来】