Blog #35 End of life traditions

End of life Traditions

(You may or may not find this blog of interest. I write it mainly for the purpose of my own record and share it for any who are curious.) 

Not long after we arrived in Kakamega, we saw first-hand some of the regional customs when a person dies (other areas have different practices). With our office on the main thoroughfare through town, every week we hear the noise of what sounds like a festive parade. It’s the commotion of mourners.  Thursday is the day allocated for bodies to be taken from the mortuary to the village home to begin funeral and burial ceremonies. Dozens of boda-bodas, tuk-tuks,and  matatus (local taxis) carry people through the community as they support the grieving families with waving tree branches, honking horns, and vocalizing emotions while the casket is being transferred.  We knew there were other associated rituals when a loved one passes but we had not attended a funeral until recently.

On March 22, the father of our Territorial President for Women’s Ministries, Commissioner Grace Chepukurui, passed away. In Salvation Army terms, he was ‘promoted to Glory.’ (I like that term).  He was 95 years old and had suffered a lot of illness over the past five years.  A faithful member of the church and a caring father, Grace described him as a ‘pillar’ of their family and community.  Not long after his passing, we were informed that the two day funeral would include a church service on Thursday and then a burial/celebration service on Saturday. The burial site would be the home compound which is customary for most.

The church service happened at Commissioner Grace’s home corps, attended by about 300 people – family, friends, church members, community neighbors, and officers from around the Territory.  We arrived at the church just before the service began but no one was inside.  Everyone who was attending (besides us and a few others) had joined the procession from the mortuary. Soon we saw the large convoy of people coming behind the small hearse.  The crowd quickly filled the corps building as the casket was placed at the front.  As the family took their seats, we noticed that Commissioner Stephen (the TC) was not sitting with his wife. Family tradition requires the spouses of the daughters to be separated during the days of the funeral and burial. Grace had been residing with her siblings over the past several days and would remain with them for some time after the funeral.

The 2 ½ hour service was filled with lots of joyful singing, some prayers, and many speeches.  Every child (ten in this case) plus their spouses and their children all made comments about their loved one. Aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, and church members were invited to speak as well. A sermon was given, followed by a benediction which led to the viewing of the body by everyone who was present. The casket had been closed but was now opened and everyone walked past to pay respect.  Following the service, the body was taken back to the family home.  We gathered in the yard to watch the zig zag procession around the grounds until it reached its resting place.  It was set inside a small tent just in front of the house and would remain there until the day of burial.  We were quickly invited to a neighbor’s house for lunch and did not get to see Commissioner Grace because she remained with her family. We learned later that so many relatives came to stay at the house that some of them slept outside.

On Saturday, we attended the second part of the funeral, an even larger gathering. Many more from the community (church members, government officials, educators, hospital staff, fellow employees of the children, etc.) as well as scores of Salvationists and Officers, about 6-700 altogether, had come to share with the family.  Tents were erected on a school compound to accommodate the crowd and help shade all from the hot sun. The casket was brought from the family home and placed just off to the side in an open tent. It was opened during the service and people were casually viewing the body during the program.

 The service began at 9:30 a.m. and finished near 3:00 p.m. (I was glad I had a few peanuts in my purse!).  Once again there was much ‘celebrating’ with jubilant singing, tambourines & drums, and traditional dancing.  At first, various churches in the community presented musical items. Traditionally every church gets included – no one is left out because community support is highly regarded. Everyone is expected to provide practical assistance so everyone is integrated.  I was reminded that many in the western world would consider a funeral a more private event while here it is very public and focused on community.

Lots more speeches were given, then a Bible sermon (by the Territorial Commander of Kenya East), and prayers offered.  Each family member, including Grace’s mom, all the immediate offspring, and many extended relatives spoke.  Other speeches came from community members. The Emcee tried hard to move the proceedings along in a timely and respectful fashion being conscious of the length of the service and the pending rains looming as grey clouds began to spot the blue sky. We were told that the Salvation Army actually keeps their funeral services short, others extend beyond five or six hours.

Before the sermon was given, an offering was taken which would help the family with associated funeral costs. The price of funerals can be very steep and no one has insurance. On top of regular expenses, providing meals for the large number of people who come for visitation during the days of the wake and the services, as well as renting tents and PA equipment were some of the extra costs incurred by the family.

At the end of the service, time was given for government officials to speak. While they were instructed not to use the event as a political platform, everyone quickly knew it was. This was a very different part of such a gathering for us but apparently quite common.  

As the proceedings were concluding, the casket was closed and brought into the middle of the compound as various groups marched around and draped ‘nets’ (pieces of sheer white lace material) over the coffin.  A traditional closure, this finished the public event for the day. We had a short time to greet a few people and then taken to a nearby home to eat (it is always important to feed visitors). Grace and her immediate family, excluding her husband, went back to the family compound for the actual burial.  They would stay together for three more days and finally share one last Memorial Service together.

As we walked through this new experience, we could not deny the significance of traditions for people. Family and community practices can provide solace as long-established conventions give people something known and memorable to lean into when a change, like death, has disrupted their lives.  Traditional norms can become routine and eventually people may not always focus on why they are repeating the activity, but they do so simply for comfort. A few times we asked ‘why is this happening?’ and were told, ‘because it’s tradition’.  We resist any criticism to that response because conceivably some of our practises are comforting too, purely through repetition and familiarity. 

I have always affirmed the value of community. God created us to support each other. The Bible says there is a time to carry our own burdens and a time when sharing the load is the better plan.  Times of sorrow definitely include the latter.

A couple of songs surface in me as I write this blog.  “Lean on me when you’re not strong. I’ll be a friend. I’ll help you carry on …”   And also one I heard a few years ago when one of our church members lost his brother.  While it may have been particularly relevant for the loss of a sibling, the message resonates again now.  A 1970’s song, “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother … it’s a long, long road, from which there is no return. While we are on the way to there, why not share the load …”  

Whatever traditions happen across the world, it is enlightening to learn what people find helpful.   Regardless of the form or practice, perhaps we can find more space for understanding than judgement. And may none of us ever find it a chore to use whatever means possible to care for each other - to the end of the road.