Saturday, September 24

How many people have been to a funeral with goats walking through it? I can now say that I have. Today we headed south to the funeral of a colleague’s mother. She was 95 and she died over a month ago. Driving there, we passed several villages in which the favoured style of architecture is wood frames with mud walls. We arrived in the village where the funeral was and were led into this courtyard of sorts, although the term courtyard implies something regal. And then we were led past the body. There was this little old lady lying there, on a bed with all these lights and decorations around her. Many of the women would sob as they passed by, having been completely composed just before. To make it even more surreal for the white boy who had been to all of one funeral before today, there was a little music box next to the body playing Christmas carols. I definitely heard Jingle Bells. After everyone (and there were hundreds of people) filed past the body, there was a service, with lots of singing and dancing and African drumming. It was lively to say the least.

After a pause for lunch, there was more dancing and singing in this area where a lot of chairs had been set up in a rectangle in the middle of the village. This allowed the local goats to wander through the proceedings whenever they felt so inclined. There was a greeting line and that was another entertaining experience. I know that I’ve mentioned this before, but I need to say it again to hammer home how much a part of my life this is right now. Being the only white person in an entire town ensures that you’ll elicit countless stares and a very warm welcome. But it does make you self-conscious when you know that there are dozens of people looking at you. I’ve found that the best thing to do is to wear a huge grin and say thank you a lot.

We hung around for a little bit, then headed back. The return trip took about 5 hours because we took a longer route. On the way there, we took this awful road that led to the van filling with a choking red dust, so we decided to go the other way home. About half way back, the rain hit. It is rainy season right now, but apart from some drizzle, it’s been pretty dry since I’ve been here. Until today. It was torrential. Fortunately we made it back in one piece. All in all, my first Ghanaian funeral was surreal to say the least.

Tomorrow is Sunday and come hell or high water, I am getting this and the several posts that precede it up on the net. We are going to finally move into our place tomorrow as well, and then work starts. What that entails, I’m not sure yet, but I do know that we have a meeting with a local chief on Monday. Til next time, whenever that may be…