Last week I was honoured to be invited to the funeral of a local person in the town I am working in. The deceased was a young woman of 39 years, who sadly passed away last month. It is not uncommon for Ghanaians to invite a whole range of people to a funeral, even people like me who have never met the departed, so our presence at the ceremony was nothing unusual.
The funeral was one of the strangest experiences I have had since I arrived here. Having attended a few funerals back home, what struck me was how incredibly different the whole affair was.
In England funerals are usually sombre, quiet, low-key events. You are much more likely to see a quivering lip than outright sobbing. After the funeral itself, the parties tend to decamp to a small reception, which can be an awkward few hours of expressing condolences to the family and trying to remember the deceased in fond terms.
This is a million miles away from the Ghanaian experience. When we were escorted to our seats, the first thing we observed was the local pastor leading loud, vocal, and often musical tributes to the departed. Guests were on their feet clapping and singing to the music. There was no quiet reflection here; the party was well and truly in full swing.
Afterwards we were given the opportunity to observe the body, the first time I have done so. This was characterised by hysterical wailing from the people that knew the deceased. Mourners were literally throwing themselves around the room in grief, crying and asking the Lord why death had occurred. The deceased was placed in a fine casket and dressed up to look her best for the last time.
The funeral ceremony ended once the casket was brought out and loaded on to a pick-up truck to be taken for burial. One could not help but notice the sad contrast between the expensive casket and the ordinary pick-up used to transport the body. The guests at the funeral did not appreciate this inconsistency, however, and proceeded to wail at the casket until it was finally taken away.
This did not mark the end of the festivities though and some mourners stayed on for hours, dancing to the music and giving their tributes to the deceased over the microphone. Later I was told that some people attend funerals as a way of picking up a husband or wife! I was amazed by the grace with which we were welcomed. I doubt I would have the courtesy to tolerate foreigners who I didn’t even know attending a funeral of a close relative but we were embraced with open arms and treated to a generous helping of Kenkey afterwards.
Despite the warm hospitality, I could not help but think that the English funeral experience is a great deal more powerful. There was something artificial about the outright wailing – for me it is the person who tries to keep his composure and then loses it that gives a funeral its emotional resonance. That said, I thoroughly enjoyed this most interesting of cultural experiences.
