The funeral of a friend

Last week held some of the hardest days of my life in Africa.  Though I have lots to say about the death of one of my good African friends, it's all either too much detail for the no-need-to-know world or possible cause for emotion spilling over - both of which annoy me.

Monday he wasn't feeling well, went to the doctor, got some meds and came to the house for one of his regular visits.  He didn't know what the doctor gave him all that medication for so I got out my stacks of health & medical books and looked up each of the medicines he'd been prescribed.  The same evening we gathered some of his Zambian rape (a vegetable similar to spinach and swiss chard) and he showed me how to cook it traditionally, with some oil, tomatoes and onions.

Tuesday, Wednesday, didn't hear much.  Just got a couple SMS's that he wasn't feeling too great.  Thursday morning we took some missionary friends to the Botswana border, about a 3-hour drive for us.  When Dad and I got back to town, we checked in on our friend, found him in the hospital, and stayed with him until 9:30 that evening, when he passed away.

Most of that time I had to sit out in the kombi as there were important documents inside and a person in a vehicle tends to deter people (in not-so-nice an area of town) from stealing anything.  Around 9:30 that night another Zambian friend came running out to me and cried, "He is no more, he is no more!" After being at the hospital for 13-1/2 hours, Alfred passed into the joy of our Lord.

His family decided to hold the funeral service at our house as they said, "You loved him. Alfred would've wanted it."  The Lord was good, the service was Christ-honoring and around 100 people attended from Zambia, Botswana, Ghana and places around South Africa.

As it often is at services here, an African lady led out in song and many old English hymns were sung at the funeral.  Missionaries long ago taught many of these to the people in Zambia and they are still sung in churches and at funerals.  Some of the songs I hadn't ever heard sung here in Africa as down our way they tend to sing African choruses and hymns in the language of the area.  At the graveside service the tradition was held of the male friends filling in the grave.  The three oldest boys were allowed to participate in this and D#4 was a pallbearer for our good friend.

               We'll miss you, dear friend.