We agreed to what???

 

We are learning many things here in Nigeria.  For instance if someone ask “can I have a ride to town”?  That  often means on the way we need to pick up my brother, his wife’s sister and 4 kids and the neighbor. This can also include 4 to 5 stops that were unplanned and out of the way and they tell you to stop just as you passed it.  This is the background for the following story.

 

Five months ago one of our friend’s mother passed away.  The funeral was last weekend.  Earlier in the week we were asked if we could use the mission vehicles (truck and van) to carry people to and from the service a couple villages away.  My wife, bless her heart, said sure.  I had to ask “what does that mean exactly”?  The vague answer was run the friends wife and her friends up on Friday so they could prep the food for the service then run whoever wanted to go on Saturday for the service.  No Problem.  We’d be happy to help.  OK to be honest I was not very willing to give a weekend to be running back and forth considering the other things that take up our weekends (ie Prayer Meeting (8-10 Friday Night), Market run for school food (9-1 or 2 Saturday) Church (9:30 -1 or 2) Sunday).  You may have noticed I didn’t mention take in the Hawks game or ski freshies with the boys cause that’s not on the list as of late.

 

The weekend started off OK with one slight change in plans.  Take the cooks up around 2 pm but then, trip two around 6 pm for the wake keeping.  I got out of that one but Bridget went and was supposed to return around 8 pm.  The event was to start by around”6 pm” and go all night. When I called at 9 pm it had not really started yet but I called because these roads aren’t the safest during the day and add robbers to the equation and most people avoid night travel.  I was happy when I heard the van pull in around 10 pm. (Before you think I’ve lost my mind letting her travel alone, she was with Clement our driver/head of security and Pastor John).  Saturday came, and after a little- OK a lot- of grumble grumble grumble), I took the first load of family, friends and church members to the house where the service was to be held.  This meant loading the bus for market, stopping at Pastor’s house to pick up his wife and stopping in Emi-woro to pick up bags of pure water.  We arrived by 9:30 am and were quickly fed rice and mineral (pop or soda for you from the mid-west).  The service was to commence at 10 am by 1 pm we were still in hang out mode and the temperature was well over 100.  You would be surprised how many can fit under a shade tree and how that mass of humanity shifts and rotates around as the sun moves through the sky.  A little after 1 pm my friend asked if I could drive the bus with the band in it to pick up the “corpse” (their term not mine). I said sure happy to help.  It should be noted now that this was my first Nigerian funeral and I am running blind on this whole operation.   We loaded the bus with 5 drummers and 2 trumpet players, my friend and his brother and headed to the mortuary to pick up the corpse (OK now I’m just using the word cause I can).  On the way to the morgue, a 20 minute drive, we stopped along  the road side to go casket shopping.  Just as luck would have it the ambulance/hearse happened to be parked right there.  After picking just the right one and loading it in the hearse we were off to the mortuary.  After arriving, the corpse was prepared to be put in the casket.  This means that, there on the porch, a fresh set of fine clothes were placed on the body and a glass cover put on the casket before it was closed.  Did I mention that is was now well over 100 degrees?  Did I mention that the person died 5 months before?  Apparently  this was going to be an open casket service.  After the corpse was dressed and placed in the coffin, and the coffin in the hearse, about 1 ½ hours later we headed back to the family house where the deceased was to  be entombed under the floor in the children’s bedroom.  For those of you who were wondering what the band was for you are about to find out…  As the procession headed back  we drove slowly and the band played.  That’s right: in the bus 5 drummers and 2 trumpets played and played so they would be heard as we traveled slowly down the road (about 45 minutes to get home).  My ears have not rang like that since I went to Mudhoney with Bridget’s sister Sherry and her husband Jeff a couple years ago.  After arriving back at the house, which is quite a ways down a narrow one lane dirt road in the bush, everyone bailed out to follow the casket to the service.  This left me waiting in the bus and trying to get turned around and out of the road for the next 15 minutes.  (No AC in the bus, lots of cars parked on said dirt road).  Around 4 pm the service started with praise and worship songs and testimonies from family members.  I was thankful that that the PA system could have passed for a backup system for the Who, so at least the ringing in my ears did not detract from a sermon which I did not fully understand but did tell us about how if you taste fowl (chicken) feces three times you are a fool forever, complete with pantomime (scripture references to follow if I can find them).  If you thought rednecks only existed in the US think again.  During the service two “good ole’ boys” went to refill the generator that was powering the whole show.  Yes the generator was running with bare wires stuck in where the plug should go and it was situated right behind the tent where the majority of the honored guests sat.  The kids bedroom was clearly not big enough for what was about to take place.  I grabbed Bridget and the kids, who were 5 feet from this circus and started to move away when someone, who must like less banjo in his music, walked up and had them stop.   By this time I think Bridget was starting to understand why I was reluctant.  At least the smile on her face made me think I was out of the dog house for my ill temper earlier.  Maybe she was just happy to have received her gift – a ceramic cereal bowl with a clear sticker printed with the deceased information that we peeled- and-stuck.  After the service we carried everyone home and slept well that night.  On Sunday after church apparently “ we” (whoops back in the dog house) agreed to carry the rest of the family home from the friends family compound.  This meant I picked them up, carried their load and made 3 stops, dropping different people here and there then a solo trip dropping cooking equipment off at a couple other places. 

 

Next time I am invited to a funeral I may claim my driver’s license was taken by road safety after I lost control of my vehicle and drove in the Niger, but would be happy to ride along.  May even ask if they have room for my friends wife’s brother’s carpenter’s children to come along.

 

p.s. They were so grateful that I would do it all again.  Even knowing what I know now.