Remembering Oscar

Last Monday evening, we received a call from Samuel: the chief called to notify us that Mercy, one of the women in my Discovery Bible class, had just lost her 8 year old son, Oscar, and we were invited to attend his funeral the following day.  When I heard the news of little Oscar's death, grief welled up from somewhere deep inside me, and I couldn't hold back the tears as I remembered how his mother loved him.

My first personal conversation with Mercy was several months ago when she approached me after class to ask if we could help her get her son to the hospital. He had developed static pneumonia, was dehydrated, unable to eat, and was clearly dying.  We admitted him to a private hospital, and after a few days of excellent care, he had recovered enough to go home, and when I called his name, he looked up and smiled at me. Mercy was so thankful for our caring for her and her son.  

On the day he was dismissed, I asked if we could pray for her and her family. She welcomed that, then she also prayed for us.  I asked her if she had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. She told me that she does and that she prays to Him.  

Here in Malawi, mothers carry their young close to them till they are ready to toddle off and explore the world, but while other children were running and playing, Oscar's body remained small and frail. As a young child, Oscar had contracted polio, so he had never reached many of the milestones most children reach. He had never walked or communicated with her as other children do,  yet there was a person inside that small, fragile body that his mother saw and loved. Once she told me, "Some people say, How can you be so strong? Oscar is a heavy burden, but I say, he is no burden because I love him." 

Anywhere in the world, this selfless quality of character is a marvel of beauty and stands out as rare, and this was especially true in the harsh realities of my friend's rural life. Many times as I watched Mercy, I admired the grace and confidence with which this woman served the portion God had dealt to her, and I have been inspired and blessed by her life and example. 

The morning of the funeral came. We had never attended a Malawian funeral, so we weren't familiar with what to expect, so we called a few friends to ask about funeral customs. We were able to gain some useful information.  We certainly wanted to honor the family, and we would do our best not to offend. I was told that it is important to wear a head covering, so I picked out a favorite scarf to wear, but as it turned out, wearing a head covering wasn't so important after all. 

As we approached the home, long willow branches were spread across the road maybe 75 meters on either side of the home. Any vehicles along the way slow their pace and bicyclists know to dismount their bicycles and to pass silently. 

A friend of the family came to the road to lead us down the trail and into the compound. It was laid out in something like a semicircle with the family's home directly across from the compound entrance, and a mat was laid out for us some distance across the yard from the tiny mud brick house.  Two women approached, and we told them we brought a large pot of rice and a pot of boiled eggs for the family. They thanked us and took the food to one of the homes on the other end of the compound. 

Some men were sitting in little clusters talking softly among themselves in the shade of trees a little distance from us, off to the left and to the right of the trail. For a little while, there was silence as we sat and waited. Then people began filing in along the trail, one by one, sometimes in twos, and sometimes in tens as choirs began to gather.  From time to time, some of our friends left the trail briefly to come over to shake our hands.

Little by little, in the shadows of the small houses in the compound, the choirs of three churches were gathering. I didn't count, but there was certainly more than 200 people attending. 

Then, breaking the silence, I heard the mourning as Mercy in a procession of half a dozen women was coming down the trail toward us. I stood holding back tears as she approached, but when she reached me she knelt, and I knelt. She wept on my shoulder and I wept on hers. All the other women kneeling in a circle around us were wailing.   

In a short while, the crying ended, and Mercy led us to the house where we could view the body.  George and I followed her into a dim and shadowy little room where her son was completely wrapped in a chitenge cloth, a traditional Malawian wrap, and laid out on a bamboo mat on the floor. Again, the tears flowed, and I tried to comfort her. I said, "Oscar is gone for now, but he is with Jesus, and one day when you are there with Jesus you will see him again and his body will be completely well."

Mercy attended us as George and I returned to the mat. Again, we expressed our condolences and tried to comfort her. We asked if there was anything we could do. She said she was concerned that there would not be enough food to feed all the people who came, so we told her we would like to help with that.  

The funeral director (the one who planned the program) came, sat by us, and introduced himself. We gave him 5,000 kwacha and asked him to send people to the market to purchase maize, cabbage, dried fish, salt, onions, tomatoes, and cooking oil -enough to feed all the people who came. We also paid to have the maize ground into flour.

Then, we learned that some men had already been paid to dig the grave, but there was no coffin and that the family was expected to go into debt to purchase one. So, we told Mercy it would be our honor to pay for it to be built. Again, the funeral director took the money we gave him and he sent some men to the market to purchase the coffin. Then to Mercy, we gave 5,000 kwacha for her family's needs, which she tied into the folds of her wrap. 

Mercy retreated to the cluster of houses at the far end of the compound where we could see her lying on the porch.  Opposite those homes, at another cluster of homes, all the choirs were gathered, all seated on the ground. Then, a choir began to softly sing a hymn with such beautiful harmonies. When that one was finished, another choir began singing. In this way, all around the compound  the choirs sang in turn for maybe an hour as Mercy rested, reclined on the porch.

From time to time, a choir was summoned to come and eat. Choir members quietly filed out as the music continued, and when they returned, others went out to be fed. We were also summoned to come and eat. We sat on the floor with a bowl of nsima, a bowl of greens, and a bowl of stewed chicken between us. George and I shared a plate and ate with our hands. It was well prepared and very good. 

As choirs continued to sing, we were notified that everyone should stand up because the coffin had arrived. We looked down the trail and saw the coffin being wheeled in on the back of a bicycle. Again, there was weeping.

After some time, everyone was summoned to gather in the main yard shared among all the houses.  George was asked if he would like to say a few words. He spoke briefly about Oscar's short life and how, although he was limited in many ways, he taught us many things. From his short life, we can learn patience and trust. 

Then a preacher stepped forward.  In his sermon, he told the people that it is important to live right, to live an obedient life. Otherwise, he warned, some who are expecting to enter heaven will be turned away and will be sent to hell. Amen? Amen! 

Then, it was time for the casket to be carried in a procession to the family grave plot. The casket was carried ahead of the mourners, then other groups filed in behind. As we were preparing to step into the procession, two women who had not attended the funeral came near us to ask for us to come with them because there was a medical emergency in another part of the community. A gentleman in George's weekly Bible study had fallen ill.

While we were getting into our vehicle, the women both ran ahead of us to point the way into another part of the village. When we arrived, one of them was standing in the road, pointing down a trail where there were a few houses. We turned in there, and out of one of the houses came two women carrying an elderly man. He was unable to stand, babbling incoherently, and drooling. He had no control of his body. 

My first thought was that he had had a stroke. He and two caregivers were loaded into the vehicle, and we took him to the hospital. We learned that he had fallen ill during the night. It appeared that his prognosis was not good, but the following afternoon, we received a call that he had been dismissed and was ready to go home. 

When we arrived at the hospital, there he was sitting with his caregivers along the wall, and when he saw us, he jumped up and walked to the car. We were absolutely amazed!  As it turned out, he had not had a stroke but had contracted meningitis. I believe if he had not received proper medical help when he did, he probably would have died.  The people in the village could not have gotten this man to the hospital in time. Thank God we were there. 

George and I serve in many different functions as we work in the villages, but the main job we have is to make Jesus known. It is an honor to serve their needs as a means of doing that.  Loving them is a very precious thing.