I started a near riot at a burial today.

I say burial because the actual funeral will be held at a later time.  My understanding is that the more important the individual that died, the longer they will take to bury him or her.  I was told one political leader was refrigerated for over a year before his burial and funeral, and to have a body refrigerated is quite expensive. 

Anyhow, the lady that was buried today was named Grace.  She was a member at the church where I attend, Mt. Calvary Baptist Church.  I really only met her a few times, but I noticed her coming into church as she had quite a pronounced limp.  She was older than most here, probably in her early 60’s, and she didn’t speak much English.  She died on Thursday and was buried on Saturday, which one of the older members stated was very disrespectful.

I attended the burial with an American missionary pastor and 5 Christian nationals, one of which was her sister-in-law.  The spiritual condition of the rest of those in attendance is unknown to me, but I was not impressed that it would be Christian. It was held in a village about 30 minutes from where I live, and where the church used to do some outreach. 

When we arrived the road into the village was blocked at the center of town – it was impossible to go past where the services would be held.  We were ushered to the town pavilion where many older men in their traditional dress were sitting and greeting one another.  It seemed before they could take a seat they must present themselves before the others and exchange greetings, and then they would sit on the bench that encircled the inside of the pavilion.  There was a family pole, which was a stick about 5 feet tall with 3 carved figures of animals perched on a small board at the top.  The largest of the animals looked like an elk or reindeer, which was curious to me as I’m sure they’ve never seen such an animal here. 

In the pavilion there was also a soundboard set up and a DJ playing ‘music’ on a set of 14 speakers stacked over 6 feet tall.  The speakers were set up next to a canopied area that had been draped with lace and plastic flowers.  Under that canopy was a brass bed with the dead body, posed as though she were taking a nap.  There were plastic flowers across the foot of the bed, and for the most part only the women would approach to view the body.  On either side of the bed sat a woman waving hankies over the body.  At first I thought they were saying prayers or doing something ‘spiritual’, but then I realized as I was waving the flies away from me that they were probably waving the flies off the body.  Then I thought about the fact that the body had more than likely been laid out like that the evening she died, and several someones had probably spent the last day and a half trying to keep flies and such off of her.  Wow – I don’t know who normally gets appointed to such a job, but I can’t even imagine what that was like in such heat. 

The music was so loud the vibrations literally physically hurt my heart and ears.  If someone had problems with irregular heart rhythms, this would have really set them off!  I had no idea how long that would last but I started praying, ‘Please Lord, do something!  Protect us from this ungodly stuff!’  About 15 minutes later the music stopped, and then some women with about 30 of the village children came into the town square beating plastic fuel containers, boxes and anything else they could get their hands on, dancing and chanting.  They danced in front of the bed, weaved in amongst the people, went down the street, came back and repeated this a few times.  It was then that someone told us the power went off and the DJ wasn’t able to play his music any longer.  Glory hallelujah!!  God most certainly did something!

In the midst of all this goats and chickens wandered in and out, and flies were in gross abundance.  There was one goat in particular that I thought was going to have a kid in the middle of the service. I have never seen an animal so pregnant!  It was almost wider than it was long, and I was really wishing I had my camera.

There were 2 other canopies with plastic chairs for those in attendance, which I assume it would be impossible to live in this village and not attend.  The older women wore their traditional mourning dresses, black or dark brown, while the younger women wore all kinds of stuff – anywhere from blue jeans and t-shirts to Ghanaian style dresses.  It is shocking to see Western style dress in Ghana.  In many places in Africa, only prostitutes would dress in pants and tight clothes as you see here and in America.  It’s not at all unusual to see Wendy’s t-shirts or Kmart t-shirts, but I still find it odd.  Of course, they have no clue what the shirt refers to – they just bought it from the clothes that came from Salvation Army and Goodwill. 

After about an hour and a half from the time the services started a casket was brought to the bedside and a drape was placed around the canopy.  Several women were inside the canopy and evidently it was their job to move the body from the bed to the casket.  I didn’t notice any men helping, and it seemed to take about 30 minutes.  Again, I can’t even imagine the repulsiveness of this task in that now closed off canopy.  Just the thought – the flies, the heat, the odor!  After the body was moved the men came and moved the closed casket onto 2 benches in the middle of the square, and a cloth was placed over the top of the casket.  I don’t know the significance of the cloth, but they seemed very careful not to let it touch the ground.

As members of her church we were responsible to sing, so we sang 3 or 4 hymns, but I doubt too many people had any understanding of these English words.  However, I’m sure it was the first time that they ever heard white folks singing.  The American pastor preached in English and it was translated into Fante by one of the Christian nationals.  I sure like listening to Spirit filled African preachers!  After the pastor preached a message that contained the gospel, they took an offering for the bereaved – I assume to help pay for the casket and burial services.  That’s when the trouble started.  I had brought a stack of John and Romans scripture portions, and I asked the family if I could pass them out.  I was told it would be fine, but as I started quietly handing them to people around me it seemed it was too much to see a ‘broni’ (as they call white people) giving something away.  I now know what it means in the Bible when it says Jesus was ‘thronged’!  As I said, I only had a stack and there wasn’t going to be enough for everyone, but a man grabbed my arm and said, “Give them to me!”  Recognizing things were getting out of control, I gladly handed them to him, and he did his best to try to pass them out.  We had a box of about 150 in the car, and someone brought those out.  People were pushing and shoving, and I thought 2 old ladies were going to start throwing punches!  They even snatched the empty box! 

At that point, we headed to the car and drove to the cemetery.  The casket and family were loaded into the back of a station wagon taxi, and they drove to the cemetery also.  Everyone else just walked.  Grace was buried under a large tree on the side of a hill.  I was thinking it wasn’t such a bad place to be buried when they told me we needed to sing again.  The hole had been hand-digged and lined with cement. The casket was placed in the hole, Psalms 23 read in English and Fante, a shovel of dirt thrown on by the pastor and then several men with shovels filled in the hole.  We left before this was completed, but I was told that more than likely people would start pouring liquor into the ground around the hole in order to appease the demons and spirits.