A Funeral in Kenya

A FUNERAL IN KENYA

Jack, one of our seniors at Scott Theological College in Kenya, had lost his mother and then six weeks later his father passed away suddenly. Over a number of months he met with me on numerous occasions for comfort and encouragement. Jack was essentially an orphan and began to look up to me as his father.

The College staff felt that they should send some student and teacher representatives to attend the funeral which was hundreds of miles west in the Lake Victoria basin. I was one of two teachers sent to attend the funeral. Jack and other students drove in my car while the other teacher drove his own car packed with students. It was a three day journey (two days of travel and one day for the funeral) squeezed into our jam-packed school week.

On Saturday after the noon meal we left on our journey. Passing through Nairobi we climbed up the Central Highlands to the top of the escarpment overlooking the Great Rift Valley, driving on the upper road above Kijabe, then droping into the Rift Valley, passing various lakes adorned with the crimson of a million flamingoes. Then we climbed once again up into the “white highlands” and traveled into the heart of the Kenya’s tea country in Kericho. We stayed that evening at Sitotwet Training Center where an exciting Bible teaching ministry was taking place for lay people. Sunday morning we left the highlands and once again dropped precipitously into the Lake Basin, reaching Jack’s home on the plains around Lake Victoria at 9:15 A.M.

Jack and his late mother and most of his brothers and sisters are strong Christians. But the father was a nominal SDA adherent along with his uncles. The Seventh Day Adventists dominate the area along with several African Independent Churches. So the funeral was a vivid case study of syncretism.

On the one hand, the SDA minister and elders presided. Familiar Christian hymns were sung. Scripture was read and prayers made. Dr. Mark Shaw from Scott gave a brief talk, full of the gospel and hope. The congregation responded with “Amen” and support. The grave side ceremony resembled ceremonies in other Christian churches.

On the other hand, the deep seated worldview of the Luo was ever visible. The Luo believe that no one dies without a reason. Some person (a living person or a spirit) caused the death. The departed dead must be appeased and satisfied with his burial. Saturday night when the body arrived at home from Nairobi where he died, the compound was filled with loud wailing and utter confusion as they tried to demonstrate to the departed their grief over his death. Even on Sunday as the memorial service was held, mourners drifted in from the villages, wailing and crying, going to the coffin and wailing as they gazed at the corpse’s face. After the burial various ones did the same, walking back and forth, entering the house, then approaching the coffin, always trying to impress the departed of their genuine grief over his death. If someone did not express grief in this way, he might be suspected of being the cause of death.

This worldview of the Luo and most other Kenyan communities reminds me of the Roman worldview two thousand years ago. Describing the beliefs of the Romans, we read, “The supreme duty towards the dead was burial, the fundamental motive was one of self-protection, on the principle that the ghost of the dead would continue to haunt the living until a place was provided for it.”

Because of this traditional belief of the Luo, traditions remain strong. No one dare change the customs because the spirits of the dead will haunt them, punishing them for neglecting the traditions of their elders. This traditional belief exercises a conservative restraint on many Africans, deterring change and progress. No traditional rites were performed when Jack’s mother died and the funeral was led by the Africa Inland Church. Perhaps this was the cause of her husband’s death, some said. The father had not rebuilt his house after his wife died as is the custom. Perhaps that failure brought on the curse leading to the father’s death, some thought. Therefore, the family placed the casket right in front of Jack’s late father’s house, under the grass thatched eaves and with a mat in front in order to have a make-shift house to appease the departed.

Jack’s faith had always impressed me. He was always rejoicing in the Lord despite his problems. Jack had no real sponsor for his fees at Scott Theological College and often lacked fees. But his faith and Christian courage was exemplary. As we drove to the funeral and then later returned home, we sang hymns in the car. In fact, the students purposely carried College hymn books in order to sing.

Jack’s uncles had met the night before and determined that Jack should build a house the day of the funeral in order to inherit his step mother, another one of the traditions. But Jack refused. According to tradition all members of the family must remain for three days to perform various rites for the dead. When the uncle requested Jack to meet with him in the house to talk over these matters, Jack excused himself and literally ran away. He ran to the car and ordered us to leave promptly. We left immediately post haste so that he would not be forced to participate in these proceedings. Since he is the first born everything depended on Jack, according to tradition. Because Jack refused to take part in these traditional ceremonies, no doubt any future family crisis will be blamed on this failure to follow tradition.

Because we left the place of burial at 4:30 P.M., we had arranged to sleep in Nakuru, some three hours before reaching Scott Theological College in Machakos. We always tried by all means to avoid driving in the dark in Kenya. Nakuru was one of the centers for the European settlers since it had rich soil and plenty of rain. When we arrived at Nakuru around 7:30 P.M., just after dark, we found the rains had been falling in abundance and the road to the house where we planned to stay that night was deep in mud. In my thirty years of missionary service, I have never been on such roads, simply because I never ventured out on such roads in the rain because my car was only a two wheel drive station wagon with a low under carriage. When we finally got stuck, some students walked on ahead to call for help. Our host had a tractor which came to pull us out. What a sight! The big wheels of the tractor spun around, throwing huge chunks of must on our car. For one or two kilometers the tractor pulled each car, slipping and sliding, falling into ruts and ditches, and crossing over little streams of water. The terrible part was that the car was pulled through the deep ruts and on occasion it was yanked rapidly over rocks protruding in the road which wrecked the underside of the car. The other teacher’s car had to be towed away to a garage on Monday for repair before they could return home. My car was also damaged but fortunately, they were minor ones.

Back at Scott, despite losing his father and mother, Jack expressed gratitude and praise for the way the Lord had helped. He continued to come to our house periodically to share and pray as he tried to come to terms with the loss of his parents, and to find ways of meeting the needs of his younger brothers and sisters. The weekend was taxing but such experiences have always drawn me nearer to the students and helped all of grow together in the Lord.