On Wednesday of this week, I (Lily) had the opportunity to attend a cultural event that I have not had a chance to see yet--a funeral. I can't say that I was happy about the circumstances for me getting to attend a funeral, although it was a very eye-opening experience. A funeral in African cultural is probably one of the most important parts of a person's life. Needless to say, funerals are a very big deal, and it was important for me to go.
A little back story. For the past three weeks, an IMB colleague has been teaching a literacy class in a village outside of Lilongwe. The class meets on Monday and Wednesday afternoons. My colleague has graciously allowed me to come and help out, and I go on Mondays with her. This past Monday we had heard that there was a very sick little girl to one of the moms that had attended the class. Our national helper went into the village to pray with the family and quickly found out that the girl needed to go to the hospital. We were asked if we would take them to the hospital when the class finished, and that is what we did.
On Wednesday morning, I received word from my colleague that the little girl had passed away on Tuesday and that she would be buried that day (Wednesday). It was offered for me to attend the funeral, so I said yes. We arrived in the village a little after one o'clock, and there was a big gathering of people. We parked our vehicle and went to sit with the people and wait to see what would happen next. As it turned out, the people were being told that they would not be allowed to bury the body right then because of a cultural snafu that had taken place. Chiefs in African culture play a very big role in what happens in the village. The chief is the one that gives the okay to dig the grave for burial and for the body to be buried. As we found out shortly after arriving, the men who dug the graves (it was actually a double funeral because another child had just died on Tuesday as well) did not seek the chief's permission and they had greatly upset the chief. So it was decided that the graves must be filled in and re-dug and then the children could be laid to rest.
So the bodies were taken back to a home in the village to wait until new graves were dug. So that is what we did as well--waited. We went into the village and found the mother from our literacy class who had just lost her three year old daughter, and we paid our respects. There was something sobering about holding the hand of a women who has just lost one child while she nurses her infant. All I could do was say, "pepani, pepani" (which means "sorry") and just hold her hand until she was ready to let go.
It was just such a reality check into what people all over the world experience daily because of lack of health care. As far as I know, the little girl died from Malaria and severe anemia. There are medications for malaria prevention but they cost too much money and aren't attainable for a lot of people. So, vulnerable populations--children, pregnant women and the elderly--die because they just can't fight the malaria.
I am thankful for the Lottie Moon Offering and Southern Baptists who give faithfully so that my family can be provided with malaria prophylaxis, so we don't have to worry as much about Hudson getting sick with malaria.
After giving our condolences to the mom, we went out and sat with the other funeral guests and spent the next two hours singing and dancing (which they all got a kick out of the white ladies dancing).
I really enjoyed this time because it just reflected so well the dichotomy between the extreme sadness of death and the beautiful joy that those who believe in Jesus can have in the midst of such a sad time.
Finally after two hours of waiting, the okay was given to bury the bodies. After a prayer from one Baptist pastor and then a sermon from another local Baptist pastor, we headed off on foot the the grave site. We went out of the village first, followed by the men. It appeared to me that the men fluidly took turns carrying the coffins to the grave site. We walked not too far out into the maize fields and laid the little children to rest. The mothers were given a final time to openly grieve at the burial site, and then the graves were filled in. Flowers were placed atop the graves, and then we were dismissed with prayer.
What an afternoon! So many sad moments watching the people of the village grieve over two lost children. But also, so many beautiful snapshots of heaven and what the Church is. It was amazing for me to see 2 different local Baptist churches come to help with the funeral, to lead in worship, to preach, and to grieve alongside their brothers and sisters in Christ.
I pray that, even through this tragedy, God will use it to his glory. My colleague and I pray that our presence at the funeral will help build a rapport in the village and that we would be able to have a great impact there for the Kingdom.
