My Headmaster's Funeral

I believe I've mentioned that my headmaster died the day before school opened last fall. I had only met with him several times prior to his death, and didn't know him very well. In the days following his death, there were no official events or remembrances at the school. Instead, the students simply went about their normal duties. There never was any sort of event that marked the passing of the headmaster at the school. It seems a little strange because the headmaster was a well-liked by the students. But he passed on, and school kept moving right along as though nothing had happened.

Following Ghanaian tradition, family, friends, and acquaintances of my headmaster met in his village (he lived in the village next to mine) to discuss his funeral plans. Tents and chairs were set up when we got there, and people were filing into the area, greeting the family, and sitting down. Loud music was being played from a stand of rented speakers near the center of the tents. Women passed out water and beverages to the new arrivals. After a while, people started to dance in the center of the tents. The dancing was something of a slow, rhythmic shuffle. Women waved white handkercheifs over their heads. Whenever an elder got up to dance, he would quickly be surrounded by other younger dancers who seemed to be supporting him. When he was finished dancing, those around him sat down as well.

At this initial visitation, it was decided that the headmaster's funeral would be held in his hometown near Kumasi several months later. (Kumasi four hours from the capitol city of Accra, and is the second largest city in Ghana). This is where my story fits together with my Thanksgiving at the Ambassador's residence in Accra. The day after Thanksgiving, I finished up some business in Accra, and started looking for an appropriate funeral shirt. People must wear clothes in either black, red, or black and brown combined. The part of Accra I was in at the time only sold used Western clothes, and I was having trouble finding a black button down shirt. After searching numerous shops, I found one that seemed suitable. It was XL, but I wasn't in a position to get picky.

After getting the shirt, I went to the station and boarded a bus leaving to Kumasi. The fare of 12 Ghana cedis was a bit more expensive than I was accustomed to. The bus was quite comfortable though and we left shortly after I got on board. I did notice that those on the bus seemed to be a bit more wealthy than the average Ghanaian. I chatted with a woman who was from originally from Ghana, lived in Europe, and was coming back to Ghana for her engagement party. I also met another Ghanaian who was the president of a Ghanaian non-governmental organization (NGO). Our trip was a bit delayed by three stops due to mechanical difficulties on the bus. By the time we reached Kumasi, it was dark outside. I had been to the PC suboffice in Kumasi before, but with it being dark out, everything was looking a little different outside. I told the mate of the bus where I wanted to get off the bus, and he seemed to be familiar with the spot. When I did get off the bus, I started to see more familiar sites. It still was a relief when I saw the familiar PC sign outside the suboffice.

There were a group of people that had come to the suboffice to celebrate Thanksgiving. These people lived too far from Accra to go to the Ambassador's residence. I left early the next morning for the funeral with Darren, a PC teacher who lives in the same education district. I had some vague directions to the funeral, but needed to do a lot of asking along the way. Fortunately, nearly everyone here is willing to help people find places, so after a tro ride and a taxi ride, we found ourselves at the funeral site. People were gathering at the family house when we arrived. A large tent was set up in a courtyard, and people were circling the open coffin for one last time before they sat down. Darren and I were given a place to sit in an enclosed porch overlooking the courtyard. We spent most of the morning sitting up there and the people file into the courtyard. This courtyard was also blasting loud music from a rather impressive-looking stack of rented speakers. After several hours, everyone moved from the family house to a large area in the village where more tents and chairs were set up. People went up to a microphone and spoke of their memories of the headmaster. My school counterpart also read a message written by the teachers from my school.

Following this, the coffin was taken to a cemetary. The cemetaries that I've seen here are quite small and are often among small clearings in trees. There aren't long rows of gravestones like the US has. Instead, there are just clusters of gravestones. Many people had strips of red cloth that they carried to the cemetary. Tradition calls for these strips of cloth to be left at the burial site.

After the burial, we had lunch at the family house. The funeral was going to continue later that afternoon with quite a bit more dancing and donations for the family and cost of the funeral. I had already donated earlier that day, and both Darren and I were starting to feel a bit tired so we decided to head back to the PC office.

Back at the office, we discovered that there still was a lot of Thanksgiving dinner left over. It was an excellent dinner most of the traditional Thanksgiving dishes. They didn't have turkey, but they more than made up for that with a gigantic container of fried chicken. So, we started off on our third Thanksgiving dinner that year. One at the Ambassador's place, a second at a Thanksgiving party that our Accra hosts were attending, and the third there in Kumasi. Following dinner I went into the central market in Kumasi where I bought a few things. Kumasi has an excellent market with a huge selection and excellent prices. It's so big that it's quite easy to get lost. I needed to ask for directions just to get out of the market.

The following day I headed back to my site and started preparing for the final weeks of the first term.