A Guest Blog: The Celebration of Life

Note from Kate: Richard had the really unique experience of attending a Kenyan funeral in the upcountry a few weeks ago.  I hope you enjoy his story and photos!  I'm pretty much a fan.

There are certain things that are universal. No matter what country you're in, what economic status you're family happens to be, how old you are, if you're a Christian or Muslim, there are certain things that confront everyone; death is just one of the many.

But, how you celebrate and remember the life of the loved one you are laying to rest is definitely not universal as I quickly figured out at my first African funeral.

My adventure started when drove to a local church and my car was loaded with the family members of the deceased (surprise). With everyone loaded, we followed a bus full of church members heading upcountry to the funeral.

We drove and drove and drove. At first the road looked like this:

As the hours passed the scenery changed.

But so did the roads.

For a while there we received what missionaries refer to as the "African massage." About the time I thought my car was going to rattle into pieces we arrived at the church (30 minutes late).

But have no fear. We were some of the first people there and we had some of the family in the car with us (they couldn't start without us). So we waited another 30 minutes for the rest of the guests to show up.

Then we had the funeral, complete with processing the casket down the church aisle to a disco drum beat, a choir concert from several of the participating churches, and an hour sermon on Judas's betrayal of Jesus, followed by the offering.

After the service when I thought we couldn't go any further out into the country, we loaded up and sure enough, found a smaller dirt road with many more bumps.

I had a feeling I had not seen the end when the road stopped, we got out and started walking.

We walked past the family's house, past their cows and out into their shamba (their garden). In Africa, in the upcountry, people are buried on the family land.

Everyone gathered around the burial plot. The casket was lowered into the ground while everyone watched and then the pastor spoke and prayed. The families and elders of the church took handfuls of dirt and sprinkled it on the casket.

The next thing I knew shovels were being passed out. Ladies complete with high-heels and skirts, men with polished leather shoes and suits were filling in the grave. Everyone took two or three shovels full of dirt, put it in the hole and then someone else would take the shovel out of their hand and it would be their turn. This continued for 15 minutes. Everyone in the community took their turn and the community buried their loved one.

After the burial the community and family stuck roses in the lose dirt. They also stuck a cross on the grave labeled: R.I.P with the date.

After the funeral, the several hundred people who came walked up to the house and the family fed them an entire meal.

So, after experiencing another culture's ceremony, the thought that sticks with me is: death comes to us all.

However, the question that must be dealt with is, when death does come are we ready? When we stand before God will it be in shame and terror because we have rejected and sinned against God? Or will it be reverently with songs of praise, cleansed from our sins, and adopted as son's and daughters?

"For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For indeed in this house we groan, longing to be clothed with our dwelling from heaven, inasmuch as we, having put it on, will not be found naked...Now He who prepared us for this very purpose is God, who gave to us the Spirit as a pledge" 2 Corinthians 5:1-3, 5.