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.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Driving Fearlessly in Kenya
DRIVING IN KENYA
Many would testify that the best place to witness for the gospel in Kenya is in a speeding bus or “matatu” (private commercial vehicle). In these “flying coffins,” as they are called, one quickly draws near to God. Several years ago when riding one bus I discovered to my horror that the bus driver began to race another bus. Losing all sense of caution he drove furiously, passing around curves and on the crest of a hill without any visibility of oncoming traffic. Never have I prayed more earnestly in my life. Suddenly, the other bus left the scene and our bus driver settled down to a comfortable pace.
Therefore, it was with mixed reactions that we read in the Kenyan newspaper years ago concerning an international breakthrough for Kenyan matatu drivers. It seems that European motor racing companies have approached matatu owners in Kenya to secure test drivers for the 1996 season models. During the visit of one European engineer, he was impressed with the matatu drivers. “Wherever I went I was tremendously impressed by the sort of driving displayed by the matatus…I saw young Kenyans handling these overflowing buses, matatus as they call them, with tremendous speed, élan and bravery” that would make European drivers “very impressed, indeed envious.”
“Sources in the industry said there had been concern that European mechanics and test drivers lacked the stamina, imagination and courage to test prototypes to their utmost, that is, to sideswipe other vehicles, swerve into the path of oncoming cars, drive on footpaths and without lights, force pedestrians to run at high speed and test the effects of head-on crashes. ‘These were abilities I saw in no small measure in Kenya,’ the engineer said. ‘Caution is not a quality to be admired in a racing driver and these matatu men have none of it – they displayed a wonderfully carefree approach to driving, a truly spirit-releasing devil-may-care attitude.”
Two days after publishing this news report I read what I had suspected. This was an April Fool’s Day joke. Though the international aspect was imagined, the vivid description of the matatu driver was very real and true to life. No wonder that on our last Home Assignment we decided that it would be prudent to increase our life insurance policy.
Strange enough, when we retired in 2002 and began driving on America’s interstate highways with cars hurtling down these ten lane highways, I felt more fear than in Kenya with its narrow two lane highways. It is all a matter of perspective. I learned years ago that a Christian is indestructible until his work on earth is finished. Therefore, we always drove the roads in Kenya with great exhilaration and joy, and by God’s grace, we are learning to do the same here in the States.
Many would testify that the best place to witness for the gospel in Kenya is in a speeding bus or “matatu” (private commercial vehicle). In these “flying coffins,” as they are called, one quickly draws near to God. Several years ago when riding one bus I discovered to my horror that the bus driver began to race another bus. Losing all sense of caution he drove furiously, passing around curves and on the crest of a hill without any visibility of oncoming traffic. Never have I prayed more earnestly in my life. Suddenly, the other bus left the scene and our bus driver settled down to a comfortable pace.
Therefore, it was with mixed reactions that we read in the Kenyan newspaper years ago concerning an international breakthrough for Kenyan matatu drivers. It seems that European motor racing companies have approached matatu owners in Kenya to secure test drivers for the 1996 season models. During the visit of one European engineer, he was impressed with the matatu drivers. “Wherever I went I was tremendously impressed by the sort of driving displayed by the matatus…I saw young Kenyans handling these overflowing buses, matatus as they call them, with tremendous speed, élan and bravery” that would make European drivers “very impressed, indeed envious.”
“Sources in the industry said there had been concern that European mechanics and test drivers lacked the stamina, imagination and courage to test prototypes to their utmost, that is, to sideswipe other vehicles, swerve into the path of oncoming cars, drive on footpaths and without lights, force pedestrians to run at high speed and test the effects of head-on crashes. ‘These were abilities I saw in no small measure in Kenya,’ the engineer said. ‘Caution is not a quality to be admired in a racing driver and these matatu men have none of it – they displayed a wonderfully carefree approach to driving, a truly spirit-releasing devil-may-care attitude.”
Two days after publishing this news report I read what I had suspected. This was an April Fool’s Day joke. Though the international aspect was imagined, the vivid description of the matatu driver was very real and true to life. No wonder that on our last Home Assignment we decided that it would be prudent to increase our life insurance policy.
Strange enough, when we retired in 2002 and began driving on America’s interstate highways with cars hurtling down these ten lane highways, I felt more fear than in Kenya with its narrow two lane highways. It is all a matter of perspective. I learned years ago that a Christian is indestructible until his work on earth is finished. Therefore, we always drove the roads in Kenya with great exhilaration and joy, and by God’s grace, we are learning to do the same here in the States.
Monday, October 11, 2010
FAITH in Times of Trials
FAITH IN TIMES OF TRIAL
Throughout our many years of marriage, Flo has manifested marvelous FAITH and godliness. As I peruse my papers covering our ministry of thirty-seven years in Kenya, I am struck by the numerous tests God brought our way. Through them all, Flo has stood strong in her living FAITH in our faithful God.
In July 1987 we were hosting a research team on prayer renewal at Kijabe, Kenya. The men slept in Moffat College of the Bible nearby while Flo cooked their meals for them in our house. Then suddenly on Wednesday we received a phone call from Pastor Dana Weller of our home church, requesting Flo to come home immediately because her father was seriously ill. Her mother had passed away unexpectedly in her old age in 1985, just weeks after we had arrived back in Kenya. Since Flo had just been with her mother weeks earlier, she never returned home for the funeral. Our pastor kindly thought that Flo should return this time and the church paid for her return fare.
The love and concern of the African brethren is always refreshing. They met with us to express their concern. We sang several hymns; they read Scripture and prayed with us. Then they released us so that we could work together in sending Flo off to the States quickly.
Flo left Nairobi for Emmaus Pennsylvania on Friday 28th August, 1987. Two days after she arrived home in Emmaus, her dad passed away. Though her father was unable to speak when Flo had returned, he squeezed her hand, acknowledging her presence. She was so grateful to be there before he passed away. Flo was his pride and joy in her missionary service. We were all shocked and stunned. Though he was 79 year old, he had been active, umpiring ball games, working in the garden and active in church until a few weeks before he passed away.
Flo was gone on her compassionate leave to visit her father for more than three weeks, arriving back home on Tuesday, September 22, 1987. Pastor Noah Thananga, a faithful brother and friend, drove with me to the airport to take Flo on August 28 and then did the same when she returned on September 22 because the journey was at night and not the safest. Immediately after her return she spent two days sprucing up the house and elevating it to her standards of cleanliness and orderliness.
Then on the following Friday at 4:00 P.M. she began to have cramps in her stomach, could not move her bowels nor eat that day. She began to have a great deal of discomfort in her stomach and by Saturday morning felt nauseated and threw up. So we went to the Kijabe Medical Center. On the basis of her symptoms and her history the doctor concluded it was a bowel blockage, similar to the bowel blockage five years earlier which required major surgery. The x-ray and blood test confirmed his diagnosis. With her condition continuing to deteriorate with vomiting and a distended stomach, they decided to operate Sunday morning. The bowel blockage was caused by adhesions. She had so many adhesions that the surgery took longer than anticipated. She remained in the hospital for twelve days.
The Lord in his grace spared her from having this medical emergency in the States or on her trip back to Kenya. Though she was released from the hospital after twelve days, she was not allowed to return home because she developed a serious infection following the surgery and needed a nurse to clean and dress the incision several times a day. So Marian Gibbon, a nurse friend with her husband, Fred, kindly invited her to stay with them to escape the institutional surroundings of the Kijabe Medical Center with its limitations of nursing care and food. Her recovery was longer, having lost fifteen pounds and finding difficulty in eating.
Flo’s thoughtful reflection on this experience is a lesson to all. “I’m thankful,” she wrote, “for the thought that it takes both sunshine and rain to make a beautiful flower. I want to be beautiful flower. I want to be beautiful so I need the dark times of life too.” Flo loves flowers. All our houses in Kenya were graced, both inside and outside, with gorgeous flowers. In Kijabe our house was noted for its beautiful flowers; and in her own life, Flo desired to be a beautiful flower for the glory of God.
What a marvelous expression of FAITH. Would to God that we could all say from our hearts, whenever trials of various kinds strike us: “I’m thankful - it takes both sunshine and rain to make a beautiful flower. I want to be a beautiful flower so I need the dark times of life too.”
Throughout our many years of marriage, Flo has manifested marvelous FAITH and godliness. As I peruse my papers covering our ministry of thirty-seven years in Kenya, I am struck by the numerous tests God brought our way. Through them all, Flo has stood strong in her living FAITH in our faithful God.
In July 1987 we were hosting a research team on prayer renewal at Kijabe, Kenya. The men slept in Moffat College of the Bible nearby while Flo cooked their meals for them in our house. Then suddenly on Wednesday we received a phone call from Pastor Dana Weller of our home church, requesting Flo to come home immediately because her father was seriously ill. Her mother had passed away unexpectedly in her old age in 1985, just weeks after we had arrived back in Kenya. Since Flo had just been with her mother weeks earlier, she never returned home for the funeral. Our pastor kindly thought that Flo should return this time and the church paid for her return fare.
The love and concern of the African brethren is always refreshing. They met with us to express their concern. We sang several hymns; they read Scripture and prayed with us. Then they released us so that we could work together in sending Flo off to the States quickly.
Flo left Nairobi for Emmaus Pennsylvania on Friday 28th August, 1987. Two days after she arrived home in Emmaus, her dad passed away. Though her father was unable to speak when Flo had returned, he squeezed her hand, acknowledging her presence. She was so grateful to be there before he passed away. Flo was his pride and joy in her missionary service. We were all shocked and stunned. Though he was 79 year old, he had been active, umpiring ball games, working in the garden and active in church until a few weeks before he passed away.
Flo was gone on her compassionate leave to visit her father for more than three weeks, arriving back home on Tuesday, September 22, 1987. Pastor Noah Thananga, a faithful brother and friend, drove with me to the airport to take Flo on August 28 and then did the same when she returned on September 22 because the journey was at night and not the safest. Immediately after her return she spent two days sprucing up the house and elevating it to her standards of cleanliness and orderliness.
Then on the following Friday at 4:00 P.M. she began to have cramps in her stomach, could not move her bowels nor eat that day. She began to have a great deal of discomfort in her stomach and by Saturday morning felt nauseated and threw up. So we went to the Kijabe Medical Center. On the basis of her symptoms and her history the doctor concluded it was a bowel blockage, similar to the bowel blockage five years earlier which required major surgery. The x-ray and blood test confirmed his diagnosis. With her condition continuing to deteriorate with vomiting and a distended stomach, they decided to operate Sunday morning. The bowel blockage was caused by adhesions. She had so many adhesions that the surgery took longer than anticipated. She remained in the hospital for twelve days.
The Lord in his grace spared her from having this medical emergency in the States or on her trip back to Kenya. Though she was released from the hospital after twelve days, she was not allowed to return home because she developed a serious infection following the surgery and needed a nurse to clean and dress the incision several times a day. So Marian Gibbon, a nurse friend with her husband, Fred, kindly invited her to stay with them to escape the institutional surroundings of the Kijabe Medical Center with its limitations of nursing care and food. Her recovery was longer, having lost fifteen pounds and finding difficulty in eating.
Flo’s thoughtful reflection on this experience is a lesson to all. “I’m thankful,” she wrote, “for the thought that it takes both sunshine and rain to make a beautiful flower. I want to be beautiful flower. I want to be beautiful so I need the dark times of life too.” Flo loves flowers. All our houses in Kenya were graced, both inside and outside, with gorgeous flowers. In Kijabe our house was noted for its beautiful flowers; and in her own life, Flo desired to be a beautiful flower for the glory of God.
What a marvelous expression of FAITH. Would to God that we could all say from our hearts, whenever trials of various kinds strike us: “I’m thankful - it takes both sunshine and rain to make a beautiful flower. I want to be a beautiful flower so I need the dark times of life too.”
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