A TYPICAL FUNERAL IN AFRICA

Funerals in Africa may vary considerably from our customs.

Among the Europeans, (whites), there is not that much difference except that in the early years at least, people were buried in the cemetery according to their denominational church membership background and not in family plots. The Baptists, the Methodists, the Anglicans, and so forth, were all buried in their particular section of the cemetery reserved for that church, and not in family groups. If the person had no church connection, he would be put into a sort of “potter’s field” area, often neglected and not having any markers.

My first burial service, was that of Johnny Hamilton, the first son of Al. and Annette Hamilton, our good friends and co-missionaries in Kimberley. There was only a graveside service, and the burial was, by permission, in the Baptist portion of the West End Cemetery in Kimberley. There were only a very few of us present. This was a most heart breaking occasion for all of us. He was the first son of the Hamilton’s, and for us like family, it was very difficult. Phyllis had been with Annette when Johnny took his last struggling breath. Over the years, the Lord led us in different ways and our paths led to different parts of the world. Being a missionary, European (white) funerals were the exception for me, though there were several as I preached for small mid-city churches as well. I preached that one, and later also that of one of our missionaries, Ron Whisman, and a few from the young city church I served in Johannesburg.

On the other hand, I have preached at many African funerals, particularly those of ministers, their wives, or other‘s involved in the mission‘s various activities. An African funeral is different. I have preached in the open sun, in church buildings, and under canvas shelters. They all have in common that there is nearly always an great crowd, often overflowing the building; perhaps even the grounds, and there are numerous speakers in addition to the primary one. Many arrive with cash in envelopes which are brought to assist with the expenses involved. Those are opened and noted with thanks during the funeral services. Nearly all African funerals take hours, not including the actual burial and the feast afterward.

From the time of the death, the widow has been in seclusion, usually huddling under a blanket in a corner of the room where the body was or the people had gathered. She, however, is present for the service. There will probably be candles burning at the head and foot of the casket in one room of the home. The casket may be a very simple pine box, or sometimes in the case of the Zulu’s the body may be only wrapped in a new blanket. I have seen, in the case of ministers, that the body was interred in the garden near the family home and the church building. One was actually under the strawberry patch. In that case, a blanket was spread over the casket, and a cement slab was poured on top of a thin leveling of soil, then topped over with more soil and the strawberry plants would be replaced. Often a black ribbon draped portrait photo of the deceased is placed on the casket during the services and it will be kept by the family. The men of the family will sew black bands around one arm of their suit. A widow will wear black for some months, perhaps the rest of her lifeif she is elderly. Flowers are very unusual, not even on the graves. Those gathered at the graveside service will replace the soil afterward, then the shovels may be taken back to the house to be ceremonially washed. A feast will close the day.

Some of the churches we served had Chinese members. I have preached several funerals for them. The funeral itself will be traditional if they were Christians. At one I preached the crowd was so big that they were spread throughout the whole building. In this case, the deceased had been the secretary-treasure of our own congregation. and that had to be the second most heart rending service for me to conduct. She died of cancer, but up to the week before had been in services. That final Sunday, I was asked to bring communion for her. The entire family was gathered there. She died before we reached our home after serving her and leading in prayers.

Probably the largest funeral was that of an elderly Chinese lady. When I arrived, I found the parking lot of the major funeral home, jammed, and I was forced to park in the very far back side far from the entrance. The funeral itself was traditional, but the procession was over a mile long and had a traffic department motorcycle escort. Because I had been forced to park so far into the lot, I was at the very end of the procession and late to get to the grave-side where I also presided. In my hurry, I forgot my lights were on and the battery of my car drained. This funeral was in the Chinese cemetery and there was also an after service at the graveside That was a Chinese religious service, which I was expected not to attend. On this occasion those involved were all taken to dinner at a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown with the family immediately after. They had reserved a large private dining room.