Death of a Friend

I have been to a few young adult funerals over the years and they are especially hard, but none were quite like this one. 

I arrived at church late yesterday and knew something was off.  We were scheduled to dedicate the building of the new church, but when I pulled up everything was very quiet, I wasn’t sure anyone was even at the church.  Just before I entered the building one of the girls called my name to stop me.  I was amazing that she knew my name, and even more amazed that she spoke to me in English.  I knew her as the children’s Sunday school teacher, but hadn’t really talked to her before.  She began to say that someone had died.  I quickly joined her and we sat together on the ledge outside the church wall. She told me that Orland had died.  It took me a few seconds to register who she was talking about.  Then it hit me.  Orland, the guy who was with our group when the church went on mission to the south to build a toilet, the guy who leads the worship each Sunday at church, the guy who faithfully teaches the children on Saturdays during the church’s children’s program, had died.  Even still I can’t believe he is gone.

 Orland is in the white hat above and on the very right below

Over the next few hours I got bits and pieces of how he died and finally understand that a group of 6 young adults (two married and two not) went to the Grotto near Sarandrano.  

(taken by me at the Grotto a few month ago)

The Grotto is a large pool set in the rocks near the ocean on the coast of a local peninsula.  When the tide is in the Grotto can fill up covering the stepping stones, or when the tide is lowered the rocks are exposed to climb on, but they can often be slippery.  The story follows that the three girls slipped and pulled each other into the water.  Since the girls don't know how to swim one of the guys went in after his wife.  However, not knowing how to swim himself, when he finally got his wife out he was exhausted and knew he needed help.  When he ran for a local Orland went in after the other two girls.  Desperate to breath the girls struggled against Orland to get to the top.  Finally, they passed out and the locals were able to pull them out.  Unfortunately, in that amount of time Orland had sunk to the bottom.  A local on a bike stopped and was able to dive in and pull Orland out.  Rather than do CPR on him as they had done for the girls they rushed him to the local clinic, but by the time they got there it was too late. 

A good friend of Orlands and a girl I have gotten close to joined me and the Sunday school teacher on the stoop outside the church and I cried.  When I gained composer the girls explained that Orland’s parents were in the church and after the service we would all go to the funeral.  Knowing that the custom is for women to wear a wrap around their waist as a skirt I asked if there was an extra wrap for me to wear.  Once Robin had borrowed one for me we went into the church.  As I got ready to text the other missionary who attends our church he filed in behind me and we quietly compared notes.  I would later be thankful to have someone who could explain what was going on and to advise me. 

We sat for about 30 more minutes and I thought people were taking turns giving testimony about Orland, after we all filed out one of the young adults used his English to explain that Orland was part of the Tanalana tribe.  These people believe that the person is not fully dead until the family is able to kill a cow and spill its blood, then the spirit of the dead person leaves the body allowing his body to “die.”  Non-Christian families like Orlands often expect the church to pitch in for the purchase of the cow.  Since this is not Biblical, rather than giving testimony about Orland during the service, the church members were actually taking turns discussing what to do.  I found out later that thankfully Orland’s parents were not being pushy, instead they waited for the church to decide how they could help.  All but one member agreed that they could not buy the family a cow because they know that Orland’s spirit had already gone to heaven.  Instead they felt they could give a gift to the family.  Knowing that the family would buy the cow themselves the church said they would go to the beginning of the funeral to pray for the family, give the gift, and then leave.  After the family had done the ceremony they felt necessary the church would return for the remainder of the funeral events.   

As this point it is important that I explain funerals in Mada.  Here in the south they last three days.  This is because the people want to give the spirit time to leave the body and make sure that the person is actually dead.  I can’t help see the parallel to Jesus’ death and resurrection after three days.  If the Malagasy believe that the spirit is gone by the third day and body if finally dead, the miracle of Jesus’ resurrection is all the more amazing.  It shows God’s power all the more.  In the bush villages will wait months before burying a body because they want to give everyone the opportunity to travel to the funeral.  When someone dies the family quickly puts up a shelter outside their house because their friends and family will come and sit outside the house for a designated amount of time.  The shelter is usually large poles holding up a large tarp.  Because of the rain, there was also a large tarp on the ground.  The shelter is not as necessary in the winter when the sun isn’t betting down, but with the rain and sun the tarp was much needed yesterday.  

On the first day of the funeral people will stay all day.  The church members arrived after the debrief at 11:00 and left around 12:00 with the plan to return at 3:00 for the all-night vigil.  I learned that the family will not sleep until the body has been laid to rest on the third day.  The close relatives and the closest friends will stay up with them the first night.  Some will also stay all of the next day to help with meals and then everyone will return for a few hours later in the day.  The burial takes place the third day and everyone starts back at the house on that third day. 

If you think about it there are similarities between the Mada funerals and the American funerals, especially those from 50 years ago.  I know my grandpa’s funeral was in our “family home.”  During a wake like my grandpa’s, which is like the first two days of a Mada funeral, people came to the house to “pay their respects.”  In America the funeral follows the wake but in Mada it sounds like it is on the first day for the Malagasy.  In both cases the processional to the grave site follows.  The elements are the same, the Malagasy just do it over three days instead of two. Although, I have heard of Americans who have had a wake on one day and then waited until a weekend for the actual funeral.  

I think the major difference is that Americans use a funeral home.  The fact that the funeral is at the home gives testament to the Malagasy was of life.  People are very social here.  They drop by each others houses and just visit without appointment.  They are very use to just sitting with one another so sitting outside of someone’s house for hours during makes a lot of sense.  The Malagasy “wake” isn’t about shaking hands, sharing a sentiment, or saying “goodbye” to the body, as we do in America.  It is just about sitting “with” the family. 

As I prepare to attend the wake this afternoon I pray for the family to understand their son’s faith.  I have been praying that God’s Name would receive glory because of the life of His child who is now with Him.  I pray that the eyes of those in attendance would be opened to a new way as the church members share songs during the time together today.