In the US, we have a very individualistic culture. In saying this, I mean culture as a lens through which we see the world. This isn’t to say we don’t do things together in our communities, but we live in a society that forces us to prioritize our personal jobs and our families. We tend to get so wrapped up on time and tasks that we forget those around us. “Time is money.” Granted I am speaking generally, this is not the case for all of us; but it is true of our society. To be honest, I’m not even sure if I could tell you the name of my next door neighbor of 10 years.
In South Africa, life is different. In this collective culture, you rely on your neighbors. The South African philosophy of “ubuntu” explains it perfectly: people are people because of other people. Your neighbors are a part of your everyday life. In my community I always see people together and when you don’t greet people as you walk by (a good lesson learned) they will ask you why you aren’t greeting them. I’m Steve Biko’s book, I Write What I Like, he says, “We regard our living together not as an unfortunate mishap warranting endless competition among us but as a deliberate act of God to make us a community of brothers and sisters jointly involved in the quest for a composite answer to the varied problems of life.” Living in Mabopane has taught me a lot, but overwhelmingly showed me what it means to truly love your neighbor.
Funerals and Weddings:
I will never forget my very first weekend in Mabopane. My pastor informed me that there would be a funeral at our church. I asked him if it was okay if I attended. He responded chuckling, “Yes of course. You don’t have to be invited to funerals. Everyone goes, that’s just what we do.” He likes to call it, “Ministry of Presence.” That when things happen in your community, just being there even if you don’t know the family can be powerful. This was a big surprise to me. I have never attended a funeral or a wedding in which I didn’t know the person or family involved.
Here in Southern Africa, when someone passes away, the week is filled with gatherings. Monday through Thursday there are prayers held at the family’s home in the evenings. On Friday afternoon, the casket is then brought to the home and a worship service is held, followed by a reception with cakes (biscuits basically and I love them) and juice. On Saturday morning, everyone comes to the church for the funeral service and then you hop in cars to head over to the cemetery. While at the cemetery, we sing lots of songs as men of the family/church use shovels and assist in completing the burial. Prayers are lifted up and then everyone goes to back to the family’s home. Before going inside to say the final prayer, there are bins of water outside the home in which you must wash your hands. This is to symbolize and cleanse yourself of newness, of moving on. The family then has prepared an enormous meal for everyone to eat, no questions asked. I can’t emphasize how much food is served. Usually there is beef or chicken (or both), rice, bogobe, beet root, pumpkin, potatoes, spinach, carrots, and more, plus juice and cakes. In attending my first funeral that weekend, my eyes widened as I saw the family prepare the serving table. Together we then sit outside, eat, and just be present with one another.
I was also invited by my dear friend Mama Nkele to a wedding in her family. When we showed up for the celebration after, we loaded up the car with giant bowls of bogobe and buckets of cakes. We did not simply walk in, we strolled down the street singing and dancing. I wasn’t really sure what to do until a kind woman, who I hadn’t even met yet, grabbed my hand and showed me how to best “jive.” I wasn’t an outsider anymore. The wedding party danced in after us at the groom’s family home. For weddings, there is a celebration and welcome to the family for both the bride and groom. This simply cannot be done without the help of neighbors. This celebration shut down the street and everyone was there; I couldn’t have been more welcomed to simply celebrate love.
During my time in Mabopane so far, I have attended four funerals and one wedding, and I’ve been invited to another wedding next weekend. The community aspect of these services have been beyond impactful. “The more people the better,” they say. You attend funerals, even if you don’t know the person, to respect the dead and support your community. I tell my friends that in the US, you only go to a wedding if you are invited, and they are shocked. “YOOOOOO!” They ask me why, and for the life of me I cannot give them a good answer.
I’m grateful to have been invited to these services, and to continue learning more about what it means to practice “Ministry of Presence.”
Walking Together 