Today was the burial of Deaconess Oyiri. Burials here are a very big occasion and everyone who has had their lives touched by the person all make long journeys to come to the funeral. There was a service first here at Amaudo because of her long term involvement and love of Amaudo. The coffin was two hours late and arrived in an ambulance with flashing lights. The Chapel of Peace was packed full with three people on each bench instead of the usual two. Rev Timothy’s wife came and she brought their daughter Marvellous so it was the first time I met his family.
It took about four cars and a bus to transport everyone to the funeral. Nigerians are not as worried about road safety as we are in the UK, so pack people into cars so close you do not need to wear a seatbelt. I wanted to sit in the back of the pick-up truck so I could enjoy the breeze and not be squashed but they insisted on me entering the front cab in case I fell out or came to any harm. I thought this was a bit unfair because I now ended up squashed in the back of the cab with two good adult sized men and Martha. The journey was much further than I could manage and I felt very hot and a bit travel sick. We came to a road where Very Rev Timothy said if we did not close our glass (windows) we would be eating dust like food. Being subjected to a feast of sand and dust was a good description as the cloud engulfed our car for a good few moment reducing visibility to almost zero. I was slightly concerned by Rev Timothy’s cowboy driving and was very glad to reach the church. The Church was massive with rows and rows of benches outside with tents up to shield those who sat there because they could not enter the church. At burials everyone who belongs to one group will all make clothes from the same cloth to identify themselves as a group. The service was several hours long and almost totally conducted in Igbo. The booklet printed for the service was all written in Igbo so I probably should not have been surprised. The temperature was very hot and half way through the service the weather broke and we had a fabulous thunderstorm with lots of thunder and pelting rain. I felt relived because rain cools the temperature down. Having a camera is very rare so if you own one you are automatically given the right to get up whenever you want and go where ever you wish to take a photograph. It felt a bit weird being asked to go and ‘snap’ (photograph) the service and I kept being worried that people might mind.
We had an offering for the family. I don’t know if I have written it yet but when you have an offering in church everyone stands up and waits their turn to dance to the front in a long queue and dance all over the church before returning to their place to dance some more. Although I think it is nice that everyone dances all around the church I find it a bit daunting and try to make my circuit very fast. Being white there is no way to hide because there was only two other white people in the church, Sister Ros Colwill who gave life to her vision of Amaudo and Sister Diane who had been the welfare officer of Amaudo for five years. I got some photos of the coffin being lowered into the ground.
The coffin being lowered
Everyone gathered outside after the coffin was in the ground and we all ate lunch and then departed. On the way back a careless driver pulled out onto the main road without checking for oncoming traffic and despite braking hard and swerving we crashed the car. The man was aggressive and did not want to accept it was his fault. I took a photograph of his number-plate, face, and damage to his car and damage to our own. He ran away before Rev Timothy could reach him. We went to the police station and showed them the photos. They said they would arrest the man but asked for a bribe. We then went to pick up Diane because she is staying in Amaudo for a few days. Diane has a very English soothing voice and has a warm glow to her, it may be because she is pregnant, but I am enjoying her company a lot. Its funny how someone putting on the kettle to make tea after a long day can make you think of home. She told me stories about Amaudo some were new and others were old but had a different take on them because they were not being told by a Nigerian.
No comments:
Post a Comment