On the way home
I'm now in Amsterdam, feeling the weird re-entry culture shock that always hits. About 24 hours ago we woke in Iringa. Pastor Julie received a call at 5:30 a.m. Saturday morning from the family of Benjamin Ngede; his body was on its way to Iringa and would arrive at his home in about one hour. We were invited to come pay our condolence call before our departure for Dar and eventually Minneapolis.
We arrived just after the truck carrying the coffin, and followed a line of vehicles filled with people to the house. We could hear the amplified music several homes away, and the house was filled with family and friends.
Thank God for our friend Tuti, who embraced us and led us through the unfamiliar cultural norms. We greeted family members as they watched as the coffin was unloaded. She led us into the house, past the men standing in the courtyard, past the living room full of women mourning, down the small hall to the bedroom where close family and friends were supporting Benjamin's wife Anna and daughter Elizabeth as they waited for the coffin to be carried inside. Sons Dennis and Rueben stayed outside to oversee the unloading.
Tanzanian funerals and burial practices are very hands on. Family members and friends typically prepare the coffin and the body and even dig the grave. Most funerals happen the day after the death, or at the most, two days later. Because Benjamin's body had to be driven back to Iringa from Moshi, and there were family members who would travel quite a distance, the funeral was postponed until Sunday at 1 p.m.
But many people turned out to welcome the body home. Bishop Mdegella was there to lead prayers. The home had been decorated with purple and white drapings on the wall, similar to celebration decorations at the ordinations we've attended.
Tuti led us to the end of the hallway where we could hear the prayers and join in the singing. There's something about the hands-on nature of a Tanzanian funeral that is both unfamiliar to us and deeply touching and rich. Things which might feel awkward in our culture are just accepted and worked through in theirs. In the tight space, it was almost impossible to get the coffin from the narrow hall into the bedroom without tipping it. Bishop led prayers and singing in a tightly packed room while a videographer recorded the moment. Then it was announced that friends should leave the room while close family members would open the casket and view the body. For some reason, Tuti pushed us forward into the room and the bishop invited Pastor Julie and I to come forward. As the casket was opened, one of Benjamin's relatives drew down the cloth covering his face, and tenderly reached in to adjust the position of his head. Tanzanians don't sanitize death the way our culture does, and they don't keep it at arm's length.
We offered the family words of condolence, "pole sana" and "mungu awabariki" as words of blessing. The intensity of the grieving is deeply moving.
We left shortly after, embracing friends one last time. Friends from Christus Victor Lutheran Church, Apple Valley, are still in Iringa and will represent the Saint Paul Area Synod at Benjamin's funeral today. There are many of us who wish we could be present to comfort our partners in their grief, but we know that they know we are present in spirit and in prayer.
We arrived just after the truck carrying the coffin, and followed a line of vehicles filled with people to the house. We could hear the amplified music several homes away, and the house was filled with family and friends.
Thank God for our friend Tuti, who embraced us and led us through the unfamiliar cultural norms. We greeted family members as they watched as the coffin was unloaded. She led us into the house, past the men standing in the courtyard, past the living room full of women mourning, down the small hall to the bedroom where close family and friends were supporting Benjamin's wife Anna and daughter Elizabeth as they waited for the coffin to be carried inside. Sons Dennis and Rueben stayed outside to oversee the unloading.
Tanzanian funerals and burial practices are very hands on. Family members and friends typically prepare the coffin and the body and even dig the grave. Most funerals happen the day after the death, or at the most, two days later. Because Benjamin's body had to be driven back to Iringa from Moshi, and there were family members who would travel quite a distance, the funeral was postponed until Sunday at 1 p.m.
But many people turned out to welcome the body home. Bishop Mdegella was there to lead prayers. The home had been decorated with purple and white drapings on the wall, similar to celebration decorations at the ordinations we've attended.
Tuti led us to the end of the hallway where we could hear the prayers and join in the singing. There's something about the hands-on nature of a Tanzanian funeral that is both unfamiliar to us and deeply touching and rich. Things which might feel awkward in our culture are just accepted and worked through in theirs. In the tight space, it was almost impossible to get the coffin from the narrow hall into the bedroom without tipping it. Bishop led prayers and singing in a tightly packed room while a videographer recorded the moment. Then it was announced that friends should leave the room while close family members would open the casket and view the body. For some reason, Tuti pushed us forward into the room and the bishop invited Pastor Julie and I to come forward. As the casket was opened, one of Benjamin's relatives drew down the cloth covering his face, and tenderly reached in to adjust the position of his head. Tanzanians don't sanitize death the way our culture does, and they don't keep it at arm's length.
We offered the family words of condolence, "pole sana" and "mungu awabariki" as words of blessing. The intensity of the grieving is deeply moving.
We left shortly after, embracing friends one last time. Friends from Christus Victor Lutheran Church, Apple Valley, are still in Iringa and will represent the Saint Paul Area Synod at Benjamin's funeral today. There are many of us who wish we could be present to comfort our partners in their grief, but we know that they know we are present in spirit and in prayer.
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