African Burial

Today, we went to a burial for a man who worked for Kenya Airways. He was related to one of the link teachers, and we attended the burial to pay our respects. I met Laura, Lydia, Lindsey and Mary (Lydia’s host) at the Chulaimbo station and we walked to home of the deceased’s daughter. In Kenya, burials take all day. The burial commenced at 10:00 a.m. and went until almost 5:00 p.m. And this does not include the time spent with family after or food.

In Kenya, people are buried at their homes, not in a cemetery as in America. We had an opportunity to view the body, listen to testimonials about the deceased, meet his colleagues from Kenya airways, and witness countless family and friends mourn his loss. We were fed lunch, and had a chance to say a few words to the family. There was dancing and singing and people came over the course of the day.

However, we also had the opportunity to see the vast differences between a Kenyan funeral and the traditional American funeral. At this funeral, they take your picture during the funeral ceremony and later attempt to sell the photos to attendees, as a way of raising money for the deceased’s family. I admit, I have never experienced anything like that. Towards the end of the ceremony, the photographer put pictures up, and I saw pictures of myself and Lydia walking to view the body, a photo of Lindsey and Laura sitting in their chairs, and miscellaneous photos of us and others during the burial proceedings. Furthermore, when we went up to meet the family, I noticed that they were dressed in formal Black attire. The sons were wearing tuxedos and sunglasses, and the mother and daughter were wearing semi-formal dresses and sunglasses.

Another aspect of the Kenyan burial experience that differs from ours is that people do not typically cry until after the proceedings. People had dry eyes during the entire ceremony. Usually in America, people are crying throughout the service. However, here, people will wail after the burial is over. Apparently, wailing is an important part of the mourning process.

I admit, at the end of the burial, I felt exhausted. Both because it was an experience of first impression, but also because things were so different than anything I had ever seen or experienced. Admittedly, at times, I wondered if I were actually at a funeral. People were chatting and laughing and joking with one another. It even sometimes seemed as though people were not concerned with the burial proceedings. However, maybe this was their way of coping with the great loss. I guess at the end of the day, I’ll never know.