Death and Bereavement in Africa Pt 3

Saturday 16^th June, my husband got up bright and early for the funeral service of his uncle. He had told me not to come as the funeral service started early in the morning and afterwards, they would be taking the body to Togo to be buried and then they would travel back to Ghana. They would spend a total of 6 hours on the road.

I had planned to spend the day chilling out and doing some retail therapy at Accra Mall, but due to my taxi driver letting me down, I had to stay at home. I was thankful in the end – I spent most of the day sleeping. I hadn’t realised how tired I was, especially after the events of the previous day.

At about 9pm my husband arrived home. He told me about the funeral and burial and gave me the programme to take a look at. I read the tributes from his wife, children and nieces and nephews. They were all very sad. My husband said that this day had been particularly sad, because although he had been dead for a while, the burial made everything official. He was really dead. His body was now in the ground and never again would he walk this earth.

Sunday was the third and final part of the funeral. It was called Thanksgiving day. There was a church service, followed by a party at our late uncle’s home. Music was playing and food was being served. A book also went round for those who wished to present a thanksgiving monetary token to the family. Those who wished to contribute wrote their names, the amount they were giving and the family member they wished to give to (whether the children or widow). The money was then placed in a large wooden box and then divided later on.

As the day went on people were all in higher spirits than the previous days and towards the evening everyone gathered in the living room of the house and started singing and dancing to gospel music. Uncle’s oldest daughter started imitating her father’s dance moves – he was quite a mover! That was a bitter sweet moment… As the night went on “light-off” struck, but that didn’t stop the singing and dancing. Someone lit a candle and everybody continued with the songs of praise.

Later on, we all held hands and said a group prayer. My husband and I left shortly after that. As we were on the way home, my husband said to me “I finally realised that my uncle died. All this time it seemed like he had travelled, but now I realise he is gone” I told him that although his uncle had gone and there was nothing anyone could do to bring him back, he left plenty of good memories to be cherished and he also set many good examples to be followed. Uncle was a hardworking and very innovative man. He always had good ideas and was able to make them happen. He encouraged others to go for their dreams and was himself a great achiever. There is so much to be learnt from the good things that he did and also from the mistakes that he made. He will certainly be missed because he made such a difference.

Uncle’s death had certainly been a unique experience for me personally and although it was one that I wish I and all those who loved him did not have to experience, I did learn two main things:

Firstly, we should cherish our loved ones whilst they are with us. We should make the most of our time with them – teaching them, learning from them, making amends with them and more. I say this because when they are gone, we will still miss them dearly, but at least we will not regret the things we did or did not say and do.
 

Secondly, death is inevitable. It’s the sure end for all of us. But, if we live our lives in the way that our Creator wants us to, we can be sure that after death we will certainly live again. When a loved one departs from this earth, we will not see them again in this life, but if they died as true servants and believers of God, then they truly have gone to a much better place and one day, we will surely see them again.

This is the end of my death and bereavement experience, but I leave you with something that I read on the Facebook wall of one of my good friends – I couldn’t agree more with this:

“When you were born, you cried and world rejoiced. Live your life in such a way that when you die the world cries and you rejoice…”

Death and Bereavement in Africa...Pt 2

Week commencing 9^th June 2012…this weekend was the impending funeral of my husband’s uncle. I must admit I was very nervous about the upcoming events. Firstly because it had been almost a month since uncle’s death, so everyone had calmed down and life almost continued as normal for most, but with the funeral and the burial, emotions would be high once again. This would make it real – he really did die. This would be the final goodbye. Secondly, because my husband had given me an idea of how funerals in Africa tend to take place. They run over 3 days – the first day being a Friday, when the body of the deceased is “laid in state” (laid openly in a room at his home). I just didn’t know what that would be like.

So, Thursday came and we were on the way to Ghana. We arrived late afternoon and stopped by at uncle’s house to check that the funeral plans were going okay. The next day we got up early to go back to the house. My husband wore black. I had packed a black dress but it needed ironing. My husband told me to wear my normal clothes and we’d iron the dress when we got to uncle’s house. We arrived to witness many preparations underway. The front of the house was being draped in red and black fabric (those are the funeral colours in Africa) and at the back, meat was being butchered and food was being prepared.

Most people were in their normal attire, but after a short while they started to change into black and red clothing. My husband ironed my dress for me and as I went to the room to change, I realised the top back of the dress was see-through and I needed to wear a vest! I had completely forgotten about that! At the same time, one of the girls happened to be leaving for the market, so I gave her money to buy me a black vest.  It was a few hours before she returned…those hours seemed like years…

As more family members arrived I became increasingly concerned that they may have thought I was being disrespectful. Here everybody was in long, black and red outfits, heads covered and there I was, sitting there in my knee-length white skirt and floral top! I was so embarrassed. I let out a huge sigh of relief when the young lady returned from the market with my vest.

During this time, my husband had gone to the morgue with his cousin to dress the corpse of his uncle and prepare it for being laid in state. Uncle’s daughters and nieces waited at the house, chatting and watching TV. I listened to their conversations and as well as being admirable of how strong they were trying to be I was also touched by what a close family they are. The family is a large one and most of the girls are around the same age, so it’s nice that they have each other for support.

It was late afternoon when my husband phoned me to say that finally everything was ready and that they were on the way. They were actually now 15 minutes away. I asked him if he was okay and told him I’d see him soon. As I hung up I had butterflies in my stomach. The body was coming home. I didn’t know how everyone was going to react but I knew it would not be easy.

Uncle’s daughters had also received word that they were on their way and I saw their faces change. I looked at them and I have to admit my heart sank. It was going to be a very, very sad moment for them. I couldn’t imagine how they were feeling. After about 10 minutes, I could hear the faint sound of a siren and I became nervous. In Africa, they carry the body in an ambulance and sound the siren the entire journey from the morgue to the house. I knew then that they were nearby. The siren became louder and louder, until finally we could hear them coming down the road to the house. By this time there were quite a lot of people at the house and there were chairs and a marquee outside. I sat on a chair not too near to the gate and just waited. As they arrived outside the house, people started to cry and scream. Then uncle’s wife ran out crying. It was a very painful experience and very, very intense. The cries and screams increased and I saw the children crying as my husband and his cousins carried their uncle’s coffin past everyone, into the house.

After a few minutes everything went silent. My husband came to see me, to check that I was okay. I told him I was fine, but at that moment I cried. It was a very sad affair. My husband comforted me. He had surprised me. It was difficult for him to have to dress his uncle’s body and carry his coffin, but he had kept his composure. He even said to me “are you proud of me for being strong?” I was certainly very proud of him.

Shortly afterwards, the body was available to view. It had been placed in a room at the front of the house, which was normally the living room. The room had been beautifully decorated and specially prepared for the body to be laid in there. There were flowers and framed pictures of uncle at different stages of his life. One of uncle’s daughters refused to go in and view the body of her father, but later I had seen she had written on Facebook something to the affect of “daddy is home now, but he is not moving…he is dead” That was heart-wrenching. It was now becoming real – never again would they talk to their father, they would never dance with him again, never laugh with him. Not in this life anyway.

Later that evening, another uncle who is a pastor held a short service for close family members. The service took place in the living room, around the body. My husband asked me to attend. It was conducted in Ewe (the African language of Togo) but my husband translated. Afterwards, some family members and friends left, but many stayed until the early hours of the morning. At about 5am, my husband took me home and then got ready to return to the house for the second day of the funeral. I didn’t attend as they would be travelling from Ghana to Togo for the burial and my husband thought it would be too much for me…

To be continued…