Funeral/Day 2 Recap

Today was another day full of learning. I accompanied Evangelist Steven and Simon the Youth Minister to a funeral. One of the members of the Sukari congregation lost her father to long term illness last week. It is custom here for the church staff, session, and district members to attend the funeral if it is within driving distance to support the member of our congregation. We met the family at the mortuary. It was attached to the hospital and had viewing rooms next door. I was immediately struck by the sounds of wailing coming from the viewing rooms. Apparently it is common for women to cry out loudly when they view the body of their loved one for the last time. Some even fell to the ground and cried into the garments of other family members. Being present in these moments was intense to say the least. I'm thankful I was there to experience it though, because it is something uncommon (at least in my experience) in American culture. In the funerals I've attended in America, quiet tears are absolutely appropriate during the funeral events. However, wailing, sobbing, and screaming is typically done in private, if at all. Simon told me that they believe this outward expression of their grief helps them heal better. I appreciate this practice - mostly because I feel like my own culture really sucks at grieving. After loading the casket into a van, we followed the funeral procession twenty minutes outside of town to the family farm property. When we arrived, nearly 200 chairs were set up in the back yard along with a sound system to accommodate guests. We went into the family home to meet with the elders and pastor of the congregation that the deceased had belonged to. We were welcomed and began a worship planning meeting ten minutes before the service started. Since we also ministered to the family (by we, I mean other staff at the church since I've only been here 2 days) we were included in leading the service. 

The service was in Kikuyu (the mother tongue of the family) so I knew going in that I wouldn't understand much of what was happening. It ended up lasting around 3 hours. We (the leaders) processed into the back yard and were seated in line of chairs facing the congregation. I immediately had everyone's attention. Little did I know my presence as a white woman would become a sort of spectacle there. The elders who ran the service began by introducing the line of leaders at the front. They got to me and everyone started laughing. I had no idea why because the Elder was speaking in Kikuyu. They spent more time on my introduction than they did for anyone else. I later found out they joked that they had joked about the implications of my presence at the funeral. Since I was sitting at the front, people were gawking at me the whole service. The service itself was beautiful. Three family friends gave eulogies, the pastor gave a homily, familiar hymns were sung, multiple scriptures were shared, and many prayers were prayed. One of my favorite parts of the service was when the family was invited to stand around the casket so the entire community could lay hands on them and pray together. It was very moving. After the service, we processed while singing, down the hill in the back yard to the place of burial. After the casket was lowered, each person took a hand-full of dirt and sprinkled it over the casket. Family members wailed again during this. I really liked this part because it seemed to provide a sense of closure to the community - closure I wish I had gotten with the losses of some people I have loved. All throughout this process people continued to stare at me and call me Mzungu. After this ceremony was complete, we accompanied the other leaders to the church to share a meal. In the car on the way over, Simon brought up the fact that I had become such a spectacle. He told me that Mzungu meant white person or English speaker. He said this wasn't meant to be demeaning, it was more that people were just interested in me because we were in a part of the country where people had probably never encountered a "Mzungu" before. I expressed how awkward I felt with so much attention on me when we were celebrating the life of a wonderful man. Simon told me that the jokes during the service provided a needed comic relief to lessen the pain people felt over this loss. I see where he's coming from, but I still felt super out of place. As we drove down the road to the church, people who hadn't been at the funeral also stared at me, called me Mzungu, and pointed so their friends could see. I know it's not meant to be offensive, and I'm sure I'll get used to it eventually, but it's very bizarre. Being present in this culture has helped me understand my own culture in new ways. Being called Mzungu has made me reflect on who those people are in my home culture and why they may be stared at. It's given me a newfound empathy for folks who have had to deal with this their entire lives. Just a lot to process I guess. Once we arrived at the church, we had a lovely meal and were taught about the history of the community. It's been really interesting to notice similarities and differences in the way the church functions here. I'll elaborate on this more in future posts. Despite the somber tone of this post, it really was an incredible day. I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Evangelist Steven and Simon in the car. I asked them a ton of questions and they had insightful answers to all of them. From education in Kenya to Black Panther, we covered it all. Here is a picture of the church where we ate lunch and some pictures I snapped while driving to the funeral today:

~ Nell in Nairobi