A Very Fine Send Off

This past Friday was the burial of Mr. John Kuu-Ib Beka. He was the father of a friend of mine, Rev. Lawrence Beka. "The Old Man", as he was lovingly called by many, died July 15, 2012. I could tell by the numbers of people attending the funeral and days of grieving that he was very much loved.

Funerals in the north of Ghana are quite different from those in the south. This funeral, though, had aspects of both mainly because of the age of the person and the position he held in society. In the north, the body is "staged." On Thursday, "the Old Man" was staged - on a platform, about six feet off of the ground, sitting in a chair. The platform had canvas around 3 sides and a roof, to protect the body from the sun. Mr. Beka was dressed in his finest. Around him were items and crops to represent his farming days. In front of the staging area were two rifles propped up, to signify the hunting he had done. he was also a blacksmith, so there were also tools of the trade displayed. Underneath the platform was the hand- hewn coffin, draped with northern cloth and a quilt. As people paused in front of the staging area, they would toss coins on the ground. These were later used to pay the grave diggers. Gyli (traditional wooden xylophones) players were constantly playing their music, only stopping to switch players. Coins were tossed there, too. This money was split amongst the players.

Friday, the body was in the casket. When I arrived at the Beka family compound (which is where the funeral and burial took place), I was told that they were preparing to have a service. Chairs and benches were set up under two trees in what looked to be a clearing in a corn field, which was actually the entrance to the family compound. Drummers from a near by village drummed in a somber distinct way. As I sat waiting for the service to start, I watched people come in from the path parting the field. There were many, many mourners. Some carried food on their heads to be given to the family, others brought minerals (soda pop) or alcoholic beverages, chickens and even a cow was presented to the family. Many just brought themselves and their grief.

After a bit, with the drum roll still playing, the casket was carried to the gathering by members of the military and set on benches. People gathered, sitting on chairs, benches, tree roots, cloth, pieces of tin, bricks, etc. to take part in the burial service. The grave was there, right before us. As the pastor finished his message, men were arranging the rope so they would be ready to lower the casket into the grave. Then, the time for the final farewell came and the coffin was lowered. The words, "From dust you were made and to dust you shall return" were spoken. And after each phrase, Lawrence shoveled some dirt onto his father's casket. I didn't hear the ending of the service. I was watching Lawrence at this solemn time...wiping tears from his eyes...and I prayed for him.

"The Old Man"'s middle name was Kuu-Ib, meaning we can't escape death. He couldn't. You can't. I can't. The question is, will you be ready? Will I? He was. Praise God!