Day 3: The Funeral

          The day of the funeral was...long. Really, REALLY, REALLY looooooooong.  Everything was in Swahili, of course, so I pretty much sat there through it all and tried to remember what I could about my Uncle Mike.  Which wasn't much.  Him and my baba were practically identical twins, which is pretty amazing when you consider that they came from different mothers.  They had been very close growing up, Mike being the big brother to my baba.
          The day started with a trip to Uncle Mike's house with Baba where the coffin was loaded into the back of a jeep to be taken to the local church.  I later rode in that same jeep, so I guess I can now say that I've ridden in a hearse.  The church looked to be in the middle of an expansion, but the main chapel was still open for business.
          A lot of people attended the funeral, roughly 300 by my estimate, and the chapel was overflowing with people.  Being family, we got a seat up front, right behind Uncle Mike's family.  It was an open casket service, and thus I got to see my first real live dead body.  Don't know really what to say.  I knew he was dead, but all though out the service I kept expecting him to get up.  Cliché, I know,but death just isn't natural.  We were never meant to die.  To see Uncle Mike there, so real and life like, it was hard to accept that he was sleeping the death sleep and not some lighter, mortal one.  It just...
          As I said, the service was very long.  It started at like ten that  morning, and lasted until two, I think.  And there was still the actual burial back at Uncle Mikes house!  Lots and lots and lots of people got up to speak, including my baba.  The only one of interest was the one given my my Uncle's partner, and only then because it was in English and translated into Swahili.
          In the middle of the service the Bishop of the church and his fellow priests were introduced and brought in.  That was my first real live dressed up Bishop, complete with the funny hat.  I wonder what religion or custom that was adopted from...  All through out the service those speaking would call on everyone to sing a song.  Most didn't have any song books, but everyone seemed to know the words by heart.  That probably was the most enjoyable part of the whole experience.  Africans really do have beautiful voices and awesome melodies and harmonies.  Not to say that this is an exclusive or inclusive attribute, but everyone there should could sing.
          After the service Uncle Mike's body was taken back to his house.  They closed the casket, so I guess it was too late for him to wake up anymore.  We'll all just have to wait until the resurrection.  With the lid shut, the casket became just a really fancy box with shiny handles.  The burial was much easier than the service, as only a few could fit around the grave, so I was free to mingle and meet my various relatives.
          I was there when they lowered the casket.  The Bishop threw on three lumps of dirt, for the trinity I'm assuming.  Yet another strange tradition who's origins I question.  But I don't really fill like picking apart the whole day, and I'm sure your not that interested either.  The grave looked really deep, even with the coffin in it.  The whole thing was lined in cement, and capped with a cement after it was filled.  Then different people got to come up and lay a garland of flowers on top.  My Uncle was part owner of a flower company, so there were a LOT of flowers.  In fact, there were so many, there weren't enough different close relatives and important people to place them all.
          After the burial I wandered around and meet more relatives.  Everyone wanted to talk to my baba, who apparently was still a big celebrity in Tanzania despite a twenty year absence.  You can read more on that here.  Let's just say, it's quite the story.  I, mercifully, was spared the relentless crush, and was blissfully unaware of all the attention my baba was getting.  I spent the rest of the day with my cousins, who were all very nice (I later learned that many of them had come just to meet me).  A lot of them were much older than me, but the Urio youth made us all look of the same age.
          If there is anything more to tell, I've forgotten it, so it couldn't have been that important.


E’ya! - Tate


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