A Liberian Funeral

This morning Ann Elizabeth and I had the opportunity to attend the funeral of Joan, the tenth grade student from Ricks who passed away on Monday.  First, a little bit about Joan (pronounced Jo-Ann).  I previously mentioned that Joan was a student here last year.  Although that is true, I did not realize that she did come to school this year as well.  She apparently came last week and was asked to leave last Wednesday to seek medical treatment.  Monday she passed away.  Joan was 21 years old, and in the tenth grade.  Joan started school in 2000 (she would have been almost 12 years old).  The war prevented her from attending school prior to that, but she was determined to get an education.  Her life had not been easy - her mother passed away, and her father and brother both lived in the States... Ricks was a refuge of sorts, a real family to embrace Joan, who lived on campus last year and for her few days at school this year. 

About 65 students and teachers/administrators met this morning to attend Joan's funeral.  In one of the books I read, "The House at Sugar Beach," a traditional Liberian funeral is described in a somewhat humorous tone, pointing out how long and filled with wailing these events can often be.  So, I was prepared for a long morning, and lots of crying. 

As we gathered this morning, I was surprised by what good spirits everyone seemed to be in.  People were laughing and joking, and aside from the students' formal dress, there was nothing that indicated we were about to attend the funeral of their fellow student.  We arrived at the site of the service - begun at the family home than later at the church next door.  As we walked up, I knew we were in the right place.  I could hear the crying and screams of agony before I could see the people.  We soon found out that this was the site of the viewing - Joan's casket was set up in the house, and we were all invited in to see Joan.  I walked in for a minute, looked from a distance, and quietly walked out.  I already felt a little guilty for going to the funeral of someone I didn't know for the "cultural experience," but I also did want to see the student I won't ever have the chance to know.  The Ricks choir sang a song in front of the house, continuing on through the screams of agony and sadness from Joan's family members.  At the point some of the students were getting weepy, but most still seemed somber yet OK.

Then it was time to move to the church.  We sat in the big concrete sanctuary on small wooden benches that would have looked more in place on the sidelines of a football field than at a funeral.  After we were seated, the men of Ricks, serving as pall-bearers, brought in Joan's casket.  It was covered in a pretty pink and white spread speckled with orange flowers.  As soon as Joan arrived, the wailing began.  Various family members screamed out Joan's name, followed by a series of messages to Joan I can't pretend to have understood.  I have never heard so many people weeping so loudly in one place.  The students lost it at various points... some during a song, some during the time when friends and family were invited to speak, some when Joan's casket was once again opened for viewing at the end of the service.  As we all walked out past Joan, two girls fainted - one Joan's sister who had been loudly mourning since our arrival, and one girl I had not heard from much previously in the service.  It's a scene that really can't be described, only experienced... but the summary is that it was loudly and dramatically mournful.

From the church, the men of Ricks moved Joan's casket to the Rick's bus, serving as a temporary hearse.  After driving down a few wrong roads, we ended up at Joan's burial site "out in the bush."  There was much less noise at the burial site.  Family and friends got out of their cars, sang a traditional song, Olu and Rev. Teeba (also from Ricks) said prayers and benedictions, and Joan was laid to rest.  Flowers were thrown on her casket as the dirt was laid on top, and everyone left to go their separate ways.  In the car on the way back we joked, shared some candy, and bought some coconuts for a drink.   

That's the description... now for the reflection.  As a person who is not known for being overly emotional and is pretty good at holding back tears so as to not be seen crying in public, today's show of emotion was a different experience for me.  I confess, I almost laughed the first time I heard a scream of agony - to me it sounded like someone was presently being killed!  It's hard for me to imagine expressing sadness in that way.  But as I took in everything happening around me, I tried to see it from the "Liberian perspective."  It seems as if all the sadness, all the grief over losing this person - a sister, friend, and student - was saved up for this morning's service.  The high spirits of the students before and after the service - and even at the burial - stood in contrast to their audible cries during the service.  It seems to me that each person saves up their mourning, saves up their feeling of loss and the knowledge that Joan will be deeply missed, until the moment they are before HER.  Until the moment when her body is before them, then they wail so Joan can hear.  They wail so Joan will know she is, indeed, missed.  To me, the funeral service lacked something most other services - especially those for young people - usually have; a long discussion of the things Joan has done, and the things she would have done if only life was not taken from her.  Instead there was only a brief summary of the facts of her life (when she was born, who her parents were, and where she went to school).  I think it was assumed that people knew Joan - why would they have to talk about who she was when everyone already knew?  The service was filled with people saying their goodbyes to Joan, praying for Joan, and wailing in sadness that she is no longer with us.   

In retrospect, perhaps this isn't all that different from my own way of expressing emotion.  I too on occasion will bottle up a feeling, and only release it when I feel that the timing is right.  Perhaps that is what the funeral was for... save up your sadness and put all your energy into letting it go when the time is right - to say goodbye to Joan one last time while she is still there. 

PS - New pictures uploaded!  http://picasaweb.google.com/holly.wegman