K E N Y A A F R I C A

Subject:
Dear Friends and Family,

Greetings to each of you in the name of our loving Lord. Thank you for the many emails filled with love, encouragement, sympathy, and concern. Thank you especially for your prayers. Never have we felt so uplifted, so centered in God, so surrounded by love and peace than the last few weeks. Your prayers have indeed sustained us.

I have thought for a long time how to begin this email. How to share some of the happenings and feelings that we have experienced. I have learned so much over the last weeks but most of all I have been reminded that God is always faithful, always loving, and always so good.

My family, my entire nuclear family and their spouses and my brother's son, arrived on 29 June 1999. Over the next twelve days we visited Amboseli Game Park, Mombasa and Maasi Mara. We all marveled at the beauty that God has created from Mt. Kilimanjaro to the Indian Ocean to the gorgeous Rift Valley and the incredible animals.

One of my most vivid memories was on July 10th as my mom, dad and I were driving to the air strip to fly back to Nairobi (the rest of the family went by road). My daddy was sitting in the front of the van and reached his hand back over the seat to grasp my hand. When our hands met he thanked me for the marvelous time. He said it would be his last trip but he would always remember it.

That night we stayed in Nairobi as the next day we would leave for Maua. We all ate dinner together and then spent about an hour talking in one of the lounges in the hostel where we were staying. We had bought my daddy a red baseball cap with a lion on it. I'll never forget how he looked in that cap.

The next morning my mother and daddy got up early. They talked and my daddy fixed the commode that wasn't working correctly. He sat down for a bit and suddenly began to gasp. My mother ran for help. The first person there was a Catholic nun who was a nurse who instantly began CPR. My sister and I arrived shortly there after and we continued CPR. We even got a carotid pulse back for a short period but around 7:30pm a doctor came and pronounced my father dead.

My father had always wanted a simple service and burial. Well, actually, he had wanted to be cremated but that is not done in this country. Our family decided it would be best to go to Maua where our community and home is and have the service and burial there. My dearest Bill took care of all the arrangements. At 10:30am we were on our way to Maua. My daddy's wish for a simple burial became a reality.

Late that afternoon many of the hospital leaders and the Bishop of this area arrived to ask us what we wanted. We sat in a large circle in our living room and explained that we wanted a service for my daddy that was conducted by my brother-in-law, Larry Heacock, a retired Methodist pastor and the person whom my father had wanted to do his service. Following the service we wanted daddy buried in our front yard. Both requests were granted. Prayers were offered.

The next day, Monday, Bill drove to Meru and ordered the coffin. It was picked up later that day by a hospital vehicle. It was a beautiful wooden coffin with a cross on the top. My brother-in-law met Mon. afternoon with the Bishop and the pastor of the Maua Methodist Church, the hospital chaplain and other pastors to plan the service. Early Monday morning three men began to dig my father's grave.

At 3pm on Tuesday July 13th we had the funeral. Over 200 people came to my daddy's funeral. Only 8 people knew him. Six pastors participated in the service. My sister, brother and I were able to share some of our memories and feelings about daddy. The Ki-Swahili choir sang during the funeral and the burial. The service was uplifting and meaningful. My wonderful mother with her loving and generous spirit was willing to incorporate many African traditions into the service and the burial was completely African. I marveled at her strength, love and courage. Her witness and faith touched everyone.

After the service concluded many men carried daddy's coffin up the slight hill to our home. There they lowered the coffin into the grave. Mom, Jeannie, my sister, Larry, my brother, and I threw roses into the grave and then the entire community filled the grave. The songs sang by the Ki-Swahili choir added so much to the burial service. When that was completed mom, Jeannie, Larry and I planted flowers on the top of the grave that were provided by friends and Bill put a cross that had been made by friends into the ground. Since then our dear friend, Janet Mwalimu, Hospital Matron, has planted many flowers on the grave.

In between our arrival to Maua and the service and for the next two days we were literally surrounded by loving friends. I cannot tell you how many people came to pray with us. How many people came to sit and hold our hands. How many people brought us food and gifts. How many people told us they were with us. Yes, indeed, our community was with us every step of the way. I have so many stories, so many memories of kindnesses that continually showed us God's love in action. I want to share one with you.

On Tuesday morning, the day of the burial, I was in the kitchen with my mom and remembered that we had not told one of our closest friends about daddy's death. We had not told John, the father of Joseph, the young boy that Bill named. Shortly after I thought of that, I walked outside and there was John. He was helping to dig my father's grave. He had asked for the day off and arrived a little after 7am. At 4 feet the diggers hit bed rock. John was standing in my father's grave with a steel rod in one hand and a chisel in the other breaking rock. He did that until the grave was completed. When I saw him, I began to weep. He quickly explained that he had come as he had to do something for me and my family. His heart was so sad and he was with us.

There are not words to explain how wonderful it was to be with my family for the next eight days. Literally, we spent all our time together and our sharing of our grief, our wonderful memories of daddy and the joys we have had together were so helpful and healing. The time was precious. We did not change our original itenerary at all. Daddy died the day we were leaving for Maua and the following Fri. we left Maua as scheduled.

My daddy taught me so many things. It was easy for me to believe in God, the Father, as my earthly father was so loving, caring, faithful and always there. He loved poetry and could recite it like no one I know. And he was one of the most powerful prayers I've heard. He continues to teach me. Through his death and burial here in Maua, Bill and I have become a part of this community in a way that I never dreamed possible. I understand "community" in a new way. I am changed from the inside out. The love that has surrounded us and the way in which people have "been with us" has deepened my faith in God, enlarged my heart, and allowed me to see my community, my friends with completely new eyes. I want to be with the people in new ways, their ways!

Bishop Gitabu said at my daddy's burial service that his death, service and burial had brought us together in a powerful new way. People in Maua were deeply touched that we wanted to bury daddy here. It has created a new bond of love, respect and care between us. We are bound together -- we are part of them, they are part of us and together we are one in Christ. Thank you daddy.

I would like to close with a poem that I gave each of my family members several years ago at Christmas. My family has always been close but now we are much closer. Though 8000 miles separate us we are together.

Our circle is indeed stronger and it takes in a new community of friends and family.

In His grip and holding tight,

Jerri and Bill

You can answer this letter at savuto@MAF.org

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