A few years ago my wife and I went to a funeral of one of her friends in Lusaka, Zambia. The service was held in a very impressive modern church. Mary, the deceased, had been an active member of the church and the building was packed full of mourners from the church and her family and friends.
The service took the normal sort of pattern. A few hymns, readings from the Bible and some preaching. The preaching was the usual sort of fair I got used to in Pentecostal style churches. The Pastors were charismatic and good orators but thoroughly lacking in any theology to underpin their preaching.
Half way thrrough the service I was sickened by what took place. The leading Pastor (perhaps a self ordained Bishop?) took to the Pulpit and began to preach fire and brimstone type material. He praised the late Mary for choosing Jesus to be her 'personal saviour' and then went on to warn those of us who hadn't done the same thing that we were to be damned unless we repented and proclaimed 'Jesus Christ to be our personal saviour.' To my surprise about a dozen members of the congregation were inspired to rise from their pews and to go to the front of the church to be blessed by the Pastor/Bishop. These people were then taken by one of the other Pastors to 'sign up' for the church. All this took place as the deceased lay before the altar in an open casket. To my mind the whole thing lacked decency and showed little respect for the deceased. However, I'm sure that the dozen new converts would have brought in some extra revenue for what was clearly a fast growing and vibrant business (or do I mean church?)
Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Thursday, March 09, 2006
A father's graveside tribute
Hundreds of people swelled around the grave where Mary was to be laid to rest. Several Pastors lead the mourners in prayer before Mary's father was called upon to say a few words about his daughter.
His words were profound and touched me deeply.
He lavished praise upon his departed daughter. His pain was evident in his words and was engraved upon his face. After speaking so highly of Mary he then turned his attention to the rest of his children and family memebers gathered at the graveside. He began to rebuke them. He told them in no uncertain terms that they had lost a remarkable sister - a sister who had provided for all the family whilst her siblings had sat at home comfortable in the knowledge that Mary would not let them go hungry. He reminded them that now with Mary gone they would have to fend for themselves. They would have to get up from their chairs and go out to work.
His words were passionate but not harsh. He spoke out of love - not just for his departed daughter but for her siblings. He desparately wanted Mary's life to be an inspiration to the rest of her family.
I felt that his words were brave. He spoke the words that many fathers had left unsaid. I hope that his words were heard by his children and by others gathered there - and that they inspired some to act and not just be reliant on one or two family members to support everyone else.
His words were profound and touched me deeply.
He lavished praise upon his departed daughter. His pain was evident in his words and was engraved upon his face. After speaking so highly of Mary he then turned his attention to the rest of his children and family memebers gathered at the graveside. He began to rebuke them. He told them in no uncertain terms that they had lost a remarkable sister - a sister who had provided for all the family whilst her siblings had sat at home comfortable in the knowledge that Mary would not let them go hungry. He reminded them that now with Mary gone they would have to fend for themselves. They would have to get up from their chairs and go out to work.
His words were passionate but not harsh. He spoke out of love - not just for his departed daughter but for her siblings. He desparately wanted Mary's life to be an inspiration to the rest of her family.
I felt that his words were brave. He spoke the words that many fathers had left unsaid. I hope that his words were heard by his children and by others gathered there - and that they inspired some to act and not just be reliant on one or two family members to support everyone else.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Mary's Funeral
On the morning of Mary's burial we travelled to Mary's family home in order to assist with providing transport to the church. Several dozen people clung to my bakkie as we made our way through the pothole filled roads of the locations. The funeral party wound its way through the streets until finally we arrived at a modern church a few kilometres away. The church was newly built and was clearly thriving. Mary had been a Pastor at the Church and thus the building was full to beyond a comfortable capacity.
Mary's body lay at the front of the church in front of the altar. Behind the coffin stood an array of Pastors - each of whom would play a part in the service. The most moving part of the service for me was its climax when the congregation filed passed Mary's open casket. Watching her mother and father and especially her son saying goodbye to their daughter/mother has heartwrenching.
After the service we returned to the bakkie and again filled up with people. We then followed the hearse and funeral cars to the cemetry.
The cemetry in Lusaka is the size of a small town. It is vast. The mounds of earth that mark each grave are stretch far beyond the horizon in every direction. In order to accomodate the dead the authorities have had to dig graves in between existing plots and thus the graves are incredibly close together. In fact it is difficult to walk through the graveyard without stepping on the side of some of the mounds.
The driver of the hearse struggled to find the plot where Mary was to be buried. We drove in a snake-like convoy through the cemetry for a worryingly long period of time before the plot was found. In other circumstances the scene might have been almost comical. It goes to illustrate just how vast the cemetries are in Southern Africa.
Mary's body lay at the front of the church in front of the altar. Behind the coffin stood an array of Pastors - each of whom would play a part in the service. The most moving part of the service for me was its climax when the congregation filed passed Mary's open casket. Watching her mother and father and especially her son saying goodbye to their daughter/mother has heartwrenching.
After the service we returned to the bakkie and again filled up with people. We then followed the hearse and funeral cars to the cemetry.
The cemetry in Lusaka is the size of a small town. It is vast. The mounds of earth that mark each grave are stretch far beyond the horizon in every direction. In order to accomodate the dead the authorities have had to dig graves in between existing plots and thus the graves are incredibly close together. In fact it is difficult to walk through the graveyard without stepping on the side of some of the mounds.
The driver of the hearse struggled to find the plot where Mary was to be buried. We drove in a snake-like convoy through the cemetry for a worryingly long period of time before the plot was found. In other circumstances the scene might have been almost comical. It goes to illustrate just how vast the cemetries are in Southern Africa.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Death without dignity in Zimbabawe
My friend's uncles story of his sons death was touching. As we sat around the fire he told me of his loss and his grief.
His son, Jacob, had been at the cattle post for about a week but had made his way back to the city due to his ill health. Apparently he had been ill several months earlier but had made a seemingly full recover (it's amazing how often I heard that at funerals!) Upon reaching home he could barely walk or talk so my uncle immediately drove him to the main hospital in Bulawayo.
His son, Jacob, had been at the cattle post for about a week but had made his way back to the city due to his ill health. Apparently he had been ill several months earlier but had made a seemingly full recover (it's amazing how often I heard that at funerals!) Upon reaching home he could barely walk or talk so my uncle immediately drove him to the main hospital in Bulawayo.
Jacob was obviously seriously ill and his father genuinely believed that the hospital would be able to help him. After all this was Zimbabwe - for so long the bread basket of Southern Africa. My friend's uncle knew only of a well resourced highly efficient hospital that served Bulawayo. He was broken hearted to find the hospital in a state of disrepair and filth. With no other option he checked Jacob into the ward. Jacob was taken for examination and was returned to the ward where his father awaited. He was then informed that unfortunately there was no medicine available and that all the hospital could do was place Jacob under observation.
My friend's uncle was obviously shocked but said he felt that at least the authorities would be able to look after his son. He then asked the nurses for blankets to cover his shaking and desperately ill son. He was told that there were no blankets available and that patients had to supply their own blankets. He immediately drove home to get blankets but could not fathom how it could be that a hospital could not provide a desperately sick man with something to cover himself. When he arrived back he did his best to keep his son warm until in the early hours of the next morning Jacob passed away.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
The journey to the graveside
Following the body viewing a few more prayers were said before Boipelo's body was carried to the funeral car. The hearse then led a convoy of perhaps 50 vehicles to the village cemetry. I was driving my 'bakkie'. I had about 20 people in it or hanging off it. It was expected that anyone with a vehicle would carry as many passengers as was physically possible. The elderly sat inside the vehicle or whilst the young clung to whichever part of the truck they could. I found it most unnerving the first few times I carried so many passengers but I soon realised that no one ever fell off (and even if they had there didn't exist a culture of litigation!)
At the cemetery I noticed at least 2 other burials taking place. This was an unsurprising sight even in a relatively small village. Burials never always took place on Saturday in Botswana and there would always be many taking place at the same time. As we walked to the place where Boipelo's grave had been dug I couldn't help notice the countless white crosses that stood mute in the ground. Each cross would have a name and a date on it. The vast majority of the crosses were for young people who had died in their late teens or early years of adulthood. It was quite rare to see the grave of an elderly person.
This is the legacy of HIV/AIDS. Parents and grandparents burying their children. And this was not just the case in this cemetry but all over Botswana ... and Zimbabwe... and Zambia... and South Africa ... in fact all over Sub-Saharan Africa. The implications of this is something I will return to in a later post.
At the cemetery I noticed at least 2 other burials taking place. This was an unsurprising sight even in a relatively small village. Burials never always took place on Saturday in Botswana and there would always be many taking place at the same time. As we walked to the place where Boipelo's grave had been dug I couldn't help notice the countless white crosses that stood mute in the ground. Each cross would have a name and a date on it. The vast majority of the crosses were for young people who had died in their late teens or early years of adulthood. It was quite rare to see the grave of an elderly person.
This is the legacy of HIV/AIDS. Parents and grandparents burying their children. And this was not just the case in this cemetry but all over Botswana ... and Zimbabwe... and Zambia... and South Africa ... in fact all over Sub-Saharan Africa. The implications of this is something I will return to in a later post.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
The Burial Service
The first sunlight to rise above the village stirred everyone into action.Mourners from across the village began to approach Boipelo's home and those of us asleep in the cars awaoke bleary eyed. A couple of hundred people or so made their way into the yard and as the final arrangements were bing made for the burial service. To gasps Boipelo's coffin was brought from the room where she had been at rest overnight to a position just outside the entrance to her home. The elderly mourners had seats whilst the rest of us stood motionless in the background. The haunting silence was broken only by the sweet songs of the birds in the trees oblivious to goings on beneath them.
The burial service began when a few elderly gentlemen, dressed in suits that used to only see the light of day for one or two funerals a year, took up a position next to the coffin. I'm unsure which church the men were from - there are so many different churches across Southern Africa. I barely understood a word of Setswana but I had the impression that the service was on the African traditional side of Christianity. The Bible was certainly used but in the context of traditional beliefs. There are many churches across Botswana that have modified the Christianity imposed upon Africans by the white missionaries to ensure that the traditions and customs of the community are integrated into Christianity.
After some prayers a few friends and family members of Boipelo came forward to say a few words about the deceased. I rember a tearful Audrey speaking in a most touching way about her employee - but she had evidently not just lost an employee and a colleague but a beloved friend. The service at the homestead ended with body viewing. Mourners walked slowly passed Boipelo's coffin gazing upon her as she lay in peace. Some mourners were barely able to contain their grief, some women even had to be carried away to a place in the shade. Boipelo looked beautiful. Her unblemished complexion and immaculately tidy hair in place. There was even a faint smile upon her lips. As Sonny siad she looked too well to have died!
The burial service began when a few elderly gentlemen, dressed in suits that used to only see the light of day for one or two funerals a year, took up a position next to the coffin. I'm unsure which church the men were from - there are so many different churches across Southern Africa. I barely understood a word of Setswana but I had the impression that the service was on the African traditional side of Christianity. The Bible was certainly used but in the context of traditional beliefs. There are many churches across Botswana that have modified the Christianity imposed upon Africans by the white missionaries to ensure that the traditions and customs of the community are integrated into Christianity.
After some prayers a few friends and family members of Boipelo came forward to say a few words about the deceased. I rember a tearful Audrey speaking in a most touching way about her employee - but she had evidently not just lost an employee and a colleague but a beloved friend. The service at the homestead ended with body viewing. Mourners walked slowly passed Boipelo's coffin gazing upon her as she lay in peace. Some mourners were barely able to contain their grief, some women even had to be carried away to a place in the shade. Boipelo looked beautiful. Her unblemished complexion and immaculately tidy hair in place. There was even a faint smile upon her lips. As Sonny siad she looked too well to have died!
Thursday, October 20, 2005
The overnight vigil
The night before the burial a group of us drove from Francistown to Boipelo's home village. We arrived at Boipelo's home at around 11pm and found a prayer vigil in progress. The prayer vigil was primarily attended by the more elderly members of Boipelo's family and their friends from the village. Seats had been laid out in the yard to accommodate mourners. I recognised the chairs as the one's I had transported from Unique only a few days previously. The majority of those at prayer were elderly women. The men sat not far away around a large fire; sitting under the clear night sky under the moon and stars. The men didn't talk much. Mostly they starred into the fire with only their thoughts for company. It was common at any funeral to see the men and women sat separately.
Outside the compound their were many younger people hanging around next to where the mourners had parked their cars. A group of guys were at drinking a few beers and chatting using the back of one of the 'bakkies' as a bar. It struck me that the younger Batswana did not participate in the traditional funeral practices as much as their parents and grandparents but still considered it important to be at the funeral house the night before the burial to pay their respects to their departed friend who lay at peace inside her family home.
After greeting Boipelo's parents and the elders of the family I took my leave and joined some of the guys outside the compound. It seemed irreverent to drink alcohol in the eyesight of those at prayer but no one around the cars appeared to be too concerned. Gradually over the next few hours more people arrived at the funeral house. The staff and several clients of the Salon arrived and soon joined us in a beer or two. 'It's what Boipelo would have wanted!' That amused me as I knew that back in England people would say exactly the same thing!
After chatting and passing the time for a few hours the younger crowd began to wane and we all took the chance to rest our eyes in our cars for a short time before the burial service would begin.
Outside the compound their were many younger people hanging around next to where the mourners had parked their cars. A group of guys were at drinking a few beers and chatting using the back of one of the 'bakkies' as a bar. It struck me that the younger Batswana did not participate in the traditional funeral practices as much as their parents and grandparents but still considered it important to be at the funeral house the night before the burial to pay their respects to their departed friend who lay at peace inside her family home.
After greeting Boipelo's parents and the elders of the family I took my leave and joined some of the guys outside the compound. It seemed irreverent to drink alcohol in the eyesight of those at prayer but no one around the cars appeared to be too concerned. Gradually over the next few hours more people arrived at the funeral house. The staff and several clients of the Salon arrived and soon joined us in a beer or two. 'It's what Boipelo would have wanted!' That amused me as I knew that back in England people would say exactly the same thing!
After chatting and passing the time for a few hours the younger crowd began to wane and we all took the chance to rest our eyes in our cars for a short time before the burial service would begin.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
At peace and at rest
The preperations for Boipelo's funeral went on for about a week. I went to her home on two occasions. Both times I carried as much as the vehicle would carry. At Boipelo's house the other girls from the Salon mucked in and prepared the yard so that it was ready to host the crowds who were to attend the burial. Boipelo's griends and colleagues also had another task to carry out and it was one that I didn't envy them. They went to the undertakers and helped prepare Boipelo's body for 'body-viewing.' Their job was to make sure that Boipelo looked her best in her coffin. They did this by styling her hair and applying her make up. I have to say that they did an incredible job. When I viewed Boipelo in her coffin she looked like an innocent child sleeping. I guess that was indeed what she was – asleep and at rest.
I vividly remember that after the body viewing a guy I knew quite well (Sonny, a South African guy, who had travelled more than 1000km's to pay his respects and to offer the funeral party the use of his 'combie' for transport to and from the cemetry) commented that she looked so 'healthy' in her coffin. He was right as well. Boipelo looked immacualte. Her beauty not tarnished even though she had breathed her last breath in this world.
The most striking thing about Sonny's comment was that Sonny himself was HIV positive. I remember thinking that he off all people must have suspected that Boipelo had died of an AIDS related illness but his comment suggested otherwise. On reflection I'm sure that most people at the funeral knew exactly what had taken the life of this beautiful twenty one year old but all were content in the conspiracy of silence that haunts HIV/AIDS affected Africa.
I vividly remember that after the body viewing a guy I knew quite well (Sonny, a South African guy, who had travelled more than 1000km's to pay his respects and to offer the funeral party the use of his 'combie' for transport to and from the cemetry) commented that she looked so 'healthy' in her coffin. He was right as well. Boipelo looked immacualte. Her beauty not tarnished even though she had breathed her last breath in this world.
The most striking thing about Sonny's comment was that Sonny himself was HIV positive. I remember thinking that he off all people must have suspected that Boipelo had died of an AIDS related illness but his comment suggested otherwise. On reflection I'm sure that most people at the funeral knew exactly what had taken the life of this beautiful twenty one year old but all were content in the conspiracy of silence that haunts HIV/AIDS affected Africa.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Boipelo's Home
I visited Boipelo's village within a couple of days of her passing away. I took my 'bakkie' (Toyota Hilux 4x4) full of things that were deemed to be useful at the funeral house. The items I carried included several chairs from the salon and many bags of mealie meal. Mealie Meal (or Maize Meal) is the staple diet of most people in Southern Africa and once cooked it would be served to the mourners visting the funeral house with a green vegetable and some sort of meat (probably goat.)
I was quite shocked when I first saw Boipelo's home. It was a very basic structure. Her family home was barely two rooms and this housed her parents and her siblings. Within the yard there was evidence of a small building project. The foundations had been laid for what I later found out was to be an extra couple of rooms for the family. One of the great tragedies of Boipelo's death was that this project would never be completed. Her parents and her siblings lived in desparate poverty but Boipelo would send money to her family from her earnings at the Salon. With this money the family were trying to improve their living conditions. Unfortunately Boipelo's elder siblings were not working and what little money they ever had they squandered on alcohol. Boipelo gave hope to her parents as she could ensure that her two younger siblings would at least grow up in a better physical environment than she did. That hope more or less died with Boipelo.
From that time onwards I noticed many examples of unfinished housing structures around Botswana. The HIV/AIDS pandemic has killed so many young people like Boipelo. Young people, who had a sense of responsibility and wanted to ensure that their families were provided for, cut short in the prime of life.
I was quite shocked when I first saw Boipelo's home. It was a very basic structure. Her family home was barely two rooms and this housed her parents and her siblings. Within the yard there was evidence of a small building project. The foundations had been laid for what I later found out was to be an extra couple of rooms for the family. One of the great tragedies of Boipelo's death was that this project would never be completed. Her parents and her siblings lived in desparate poverty but Boipelo would send money to her family from her earnings at the Salon. With this money the family were trying to improve their living conditions. Unfortunately Boipelo's elder siblings were not working and what little money they ever had they squandered on alcohol. Boipelo gave hope to her parents as she could ensure that her two younger siblings would at least grow up in a better physical environment than she did. That hope more or less died with Boipelo.
From that time onwards I noticed many examples of unfinished housing structures around Botswana. The HIV/AIDS pandemic has killed so many young people like Boipelo. Young people, who had a sense of responsibility and wanted to ensure that their families were provided for, cut short in the prime of life.
Monday, October 17, 2005
The Funeral House
Over the next few days the girls from the Salon continued to be busy with organising Boipelo's burial. As I had generally finshed lecturing by midday or early afternoon I was able to assist in transporting food, furniture, fire wood and people to Boipelo's home. Boipelo's colleagues and clients collected a substantial sum of money in order to buy many of the essentials for the funeral.
When I talk of the 'funeral' and the 'burial' I am refering to two overlapping but seperate things. The funeral in Botswana refers to the whole period of mourning that comes with someone's death. From the time someone passes away friends and family will gather at the 'funeral house' in order to support each other in a time of sorrow. This period of time does not end with the burial of the deceased either. The 'late' are mourned for a period of time that is partly dependant upon their age. The more elderly the deceased is then the longer period of time they are mourned. I was quite surprised at first to learn that infants are not mourned for nearly as long a period as the elderly. I am informed that this is because they have died in innocent and thus will be received instantly by God upon their death.
As the 'funeral' lasts for at least a few weeks it is an incredibly costly time for many families. All those who visit a 'funeral house' will expect to be fed. This is the case as, especially before the burial, many mourners will stay overnight at the funeral house in order to pray with and support the immeadiate family of the deceased.
The 'burial itself is also a costly business. A family does not only have to cover the costs of the morgue, coffin and undertaker but also is expected to feed all the mourners who have attended the burial. These numbers are often large as a whole village will attend a burial. In the past when funerals were much less frequent this did not cause families such financial burden but in these times of HIV/AIDS the whole process of the funeral and burial can causea massive financial burden for the family.
Boipelo's family were particually poor and thus the financial support provided by her workmates and especially her boss, were invaluable.
When I talk of the 'funeral' and the 'burial' I am refering to two overlapping but seperate things. The funeral in Botswana refers to the whole period of mourning that comes with someone's death. From the time someone passes away friends and family will gather at the 'funeral house' in order to support each other in a time of sorrow. This period of time does not end with the burial of the deceased either. The 'late' are mourned for a period of time that is partly dependant upon their age. The more elderly the deceased is then the longer period of time they are mourned. I was quite surprised at first to learn that infants are not mourned for nearly as long a period as the elderly. I am informed that this is because they have died in innocent and thus will be received instantly by God upon their death.
As the 'funeral' lasts for at least a few weeks it is an incredibly costly time for many families. All those who visit a 'funeral house' will expect to be fed. This is the case as, especially before the burial, many mourners will stay overnight at the funeral house in order to pray with and support the immeadiate family of the deceased.
The 'burial itself is also a costly business. A family does not only have to cover the costs of the morgue, coffin and undertaker but also is expected to feed all the mourners who have attended the burial. These numbers are often large as a whole village will attend a burial. In the past when funerals were much less frequent this did not cause families such financial burden but in these times of HIV/AIDS the whole process of the funeral and burial can causea massive financial burden for the family.
Boipelo's family were particually poor and thus the financial support provided by her workmates and especially her boss, were invaluable.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Funeral Arrangements
Boipelo's family lived in a small village not far from Selibwe Pikwe which was about 100km's from Francistown. The owner of the Salon - took control of the funeral arrangements. I was struck by how Boipelo's work colleagues pulled together to help her family. Despite their obvious greif and sorrow they were determined to ensure that Boipelo's family would not have to worry about the logistics of arranging the funeral. Colleagues of her even went to the hospital to ensure that the death certificate would be ready when Boipelo's mother came to collect her daughter's body and the undertaker was contacted to begin preparations for the burial.
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