Probably a high percentage of stories I write about are funeral stories.
But, in a place where funerals are a regular part of life, it is hard
not to write about funerals sometimes.
Toward evening we hear wailing and drums. Somebody else has died. We
wonder who. Is it the smiling old man who used to work for us? The sound
is coming from about the right direction. The sound continues into the
evening. As evening falls, the drums begin their monotonous drone.
Awakening around 2:30am to administer Gideon's malaria medication, we
notice that the drumming and singing is continuing on. I pick out the
distinct voice of this man's daughter-in-law, a lady who washes our
laundry several days each week. Then I knew. It was him. The old man who
would come and beg for work. I would usually give in and give him some
hoeing to do.
Sunday morning the mourning intensified as more people gathered. Melody
and I decided to go say hi to the family and them return home. We
arrived to see a fairly familiar scene. Except this man belonged to the
church in town that allows people to drink alcohol. Many people from his
church were there, drunk, and dancing and singing. Other more sober
people were singing, chanting, and dancing around the casket, which was
propped up on posts about seven feet above the ground. This has
continued almost without stopping since he died yesterday.
His daughter-in-law says she hasn't slept all night. She has been busy
preparing huge basins full of food for the visiting people to feast on.
I decided to ask a friend of ours a few questions.
My first question: Why do the family of the deceased have to provide
food for all visitors at great expense and labor? The response: if they
don't provide food, the people will think that they are no good and will
just leave.
My next question: Wouldn't that be easier than having to feed everybody?
The response: No, people can't sing well if they don't have food. We
must feed them so they can sing and dance well.
I ask: Why must the drums beat, and why must the people dance and sing
all night long? The response was twofold: If the sad family is left to
think in quiet, it is not good. They need to forget their sadness. They
must not be left alone with time to think. Even close relatives can
become happy and dance and sing with everybody the day their family
member dies. Also, if they do not sing strong enough, how will they know
that the dead one gets to heaven? If the people sing long enough, the
angels get happy and come down to get the person to bring them to
heaven. If the singing stops, the angels don't come down.
I listen in sadness. I am not very sad for the man who died, or his
family. He was suffering greatly, and so was his family who was taking
care of him. Now he is no longer in pain. He is at rest. And I am know
that his death is a relief to some. But I am sad for those who are still
living, and the bondage they are under from Satan's deceptions.
On Sunday, the family had to prepare two sacks of rice (that's over
300lbs) to feed all the mourners, many of whom were drunk. For many, it
was a time of gluttony and feasting while for others, who should have
been comforted and cared for, it was a time of further suffering and
hardship. All this to ensure that the people can sing so that the angels
will want to come down and bring the deceased to heaven. And all this in
a year when the harvest is predicted to be less productive than average.
What a message of hope we have to share with these people! God is not a
god who needs to be appeased. He loves His children and wants them to be
with Him. But thank God that our fate is not left in the hands of men
and women to feast and sing and dance us to heaven! Death for this man
was a sweet release from suffering. Now he rests peacefully in his
freshly dug grave awaiting the resurrection. And we the living can rest
confidently in the knowledge that God already knows the heart condition
of each person. The choice is yours today. The choice is mine today.
Today, we can choose to love, honor, and serve our heavenly Father.
