Saying Goodbye Is Never Easy.

Today we went to church here at LJS (mchungaji – pastor) said that it was probably the first time he had led a service there in about 3-4 years. At a little over an hour, it was the shortest church service we have been to since we got here. It was beautiful. The secondary school choir sang and they sounded absolutely majestic – the acoustics in the chapel coupled with their voices created a heavenly sound. But after church got out we headed down to road to Luka’s brother’s house. Here’s a little background of what has been going on…
About 40 days ago, Luka’s brother, Solomon, passed away. He left behind two daughters (Rehema and Lucy) and one son (Baraka). His wife had left him and the kids a while ago, so when Solomon passed, Luka took on the responsibility of raising his brother’s children (in addition to his budding family). So Solomon’s funeral and burial was 40 days ago and the past month or so family and friends have been ‘mourning.’ The Catholic tradition is to wait 40 days after the burial to put a cross on the grave. So despite the fact that most of Luka and Solomon’s family is Muslim, they buried him according to Christian practices. Today was his cross raising.
We got to Solomon’s house and after greeting everyone and some final preparations by Luka and Mchungaji, we started the ceremony. It was simple and beyond beautiful. There was very little said. A man walked into the yard holding a white cross with Solomon’s name, birth date, and death date – it was simple but then again, there was no need for it to be gaudy. Nothing was said but everyone got up and followed the cross-bearer down the road towards the cemetery. Once we all got to the gravesite, a small service was held – Mchungaji prayed, Luka read some scripture, and then he prayed too. Then we all processed back and we were all fed (which was amazing since there was a pretty big crowd). I couldn’t look at Lucy or Baraka, Lucy was wiping her eyes a lot and Baraka was crying – it broke my heart to see it. They are both so young and even though it has been over a month, they still must be coping with the death of their father. We got to meet Luka’s father – he looks a lot like his dad. And it was amazing to see how well Christians and Muslims can unite and coexist.
(I apologize that this will be another novel…)
Today got me thinking about two things.
1) The deep-rooted sense of community that exists here.
There is an obvious (probably largely unspoken) understanding that everyone lives together. That’s not to say that people live as though they are in a commune. People know their neighbors and people in their community on a deep level. They recognize the importance of relationships with the people that surround you. Most importantly, they aren’t afraid to get close to people. In the States, if someone experiences a great deal of loss it is not uncommon if they become extremely distant, in fact it is almost expected. But here they will keep working to keep relationships strong and plentiful. Take Solomon’s kids for example, their mother ran out and their father has passed – but they still have opened up to all of us (Baraka even remembers all of our names). And Luka is perhaps an even better example. His mother passed away about 10 years ago and his brother and sister have both passed. But instead of secluding himself, he works as a evangelist and a carpenter where he meets and gets to know people throughout the region. It amazes me and I respect that mindset more than words can say.
2) The nature of religion here.
I have noticed today the extent to which religious practices are ingrained in people’s minds. A great majority of people at the services we go to don’t use the hymnals and they don’t print bulletins – but everyone follows along and participates in all of the service. Prayer is done in a very ritualistic way - heads are bowed (almost parallel to the ground) and hands are folded. And even today with the cross raising, the act of walking the cross to the grave was very symbolic. The community of people who cared about Solomon moved together to say their final goodbye. They walked with the cross - it wasn’t waiting at the gravesite - we all walked along with it. Almost as though, by doing so we were helping move Solomon on to the next life.
I love religion here. Everything is done with such purpose. People don’t seem to partake to be pious or uppity – they truly believe in what they are doing and saying. It is a lot more moving to see people practice their faith with purpose and passion.
Peace.