The story as told by Rev Christoph Schynder himself.
THE DEAD ARE NOT DEAD
Let me be frank: cooperation with my Cameronian colleague, the Rev. Dr. David Gana,was not always easy. But with no other Cameroonian I learnt so much about the thinking and feeling, about the joys and fears of the African sisters and brothers with whom my wife and I were priviledged to live and work together for seven years. David and I were responible for the adult education programme of the Presbyterian Church in Cameroon in the Grassfield. David was not happy that – as to finances and accounts – all responsibility was with me. I told him that I would very much like to introduce him to all these administrative tasks but that he had to know them. Our accounts had to be accepted by the central financial administration of the Church. If not we would not receive the cash necessary for our work. We agreed to meet on Wednesday at 9 a.m. for an hour or more to look into the finances of our Department und study the papers and forms we had to fill to come up to the requirements of the central administration. – Wednesday 9 a.m. : I am waiting. 10 a.m. : no David. 11 a.m. : no David. In the afternoon he came and apologized : he had met with a colleague who wanted his advice in an extremely difficult case of pastoral care The matter was rather urgent. Next time it was a mother who wept because her daughter had just run away with a young man. There was always a reason why David could not come. There were so many people who wanted his advice in the big questions of the hearts of men and women of our time. Because David had the great gift of listening to people and understanding many times better the problems of those coming to him than they themselves. In all my life I never met a pastor more gifted in pastoral care than David. Thus the financial administration of our department remained in my hands.
For pastoral care David was my great and gifted teacher. We were together responsible for a course for catechists and evangelists in the Church Centre Bamenda. One of the participants fell heavily sick and died. David was there for the others because many were frightened. And within one days time he decided upon the difficult practical questions. For him it was clear that the dead man had to be burried in his home town, Tabeken, at a distance of 150 kms from Bamenda. David cared for all the details concerning the transport of the dead but he asked me to do the driving. Later he explained to me: if there had been any incident it might have been difficult for him as driver, but not for me. And the small incident came: On a steep hill our Landrover had difficulties to climb. I was afraid that we had a flat tire, looked out of the window and shouted « What is this ? » A man on the road looked at me full of fear and horror. » David at my side explained: „The man is convinced that the dead is hindering us and is horrified that you dare blame him.“
Another time we were on our way home in our landrover after a lay training course in a far away presbytery. Both of us were tired and we still had an hour’s drive ahead of us. Few miles before a cross road David told me that we would have to follow the road which led to the right. It was raining, raining. I knew that the way David wanted to take would be in poor condition. It would not even be sure whether we would get stuck. I really did not like David’s idea and asked him why he wanted to leave the good road. David: „Few weeks ago one of our colleages died. He is burried in his compound. The road we have to follow leads to his place. We have to go there.“ Best to my knowledge David did not know the dead man well. I asked him why he really wanted to go there? David blew up: „I tell you: this visit is more important than ten of your miserable courses.“ David was an excellent teacher in our courses. I immediately felt that I had hurt him and I apologised. We drove to the place. The road was horribel but we reached the place. The mother of the dead churchworker welcomed us as if she had expected us for long, and David went to the grave and stayed there, and it rained, and David stayed there and I started to realize that he was talking with his dead colleague. I started to realize that the dead man was alive for David, a present reality. David was talking with him, praying with him, for him. The dead was not dead.
Most dramatic was what happened during the death celebration for Mr. Sam Mofor. He was a very influential businessman from Santa, one of the well known VIPs of the whole Bamenda area. When he died his family asked David to preach the word of God in the celebration. But because of the importance of the deceased it was clear that a representative of the State would also talk. He was even in charge of organizing the whole event. He told David that he had foreseen 10 minutes for his sermon. David told him that the family had asked him to preach and that he would preach the word of God in the way he had prepared for it. The organizer underlined that David had to abide with his orders.David blew up: „I have been asked to preach the word of God and this I shall do. Shall I ask God to let a rainstorm come when you want to give your speach!“The man stared at David and fear crept into his heart. David preached the good news of Jesus Christ. I was not present there but – as I know
David – there must have been the message, that nothing can separate us from the love which is in Jesus Christ, neither life nor death nor powers and not even the threat of an officer of the State.
I assume that David was around 50 years old when he started to complain about his health. It was clear that something was wrong with his liver. The diagnosis in Yaounde hospital showed that really the liver was heavily damaged. The doctors said that they would not dare treat him and advised that he should be transferred to Europe. The family and Basel Mission cared for it that David could fly after a very short time to Germany where Dr. Ernst Haaf, the highly qualified medical officer who had been the first to be in charge of the newly opened hospital of the PCC in Acha Tugi, was ready to receive him. But when David showed Dr. Haaf the x-ray pictures which had been taken in Yaounde he was shocked. He had to tell David that he would have strictly advised him not to to fly to Europe if he had seen these pictures before: David understood that his sickness was such, that he had to face death. When he wanted to die in Cameroon he had to return to his family, to his roots, to where he belonged. Back in Cameroon he bade one of his colleagues to prepare for a worship of intercession for him, his family, his friends, short: for the people and the world in which he felt at home. It was very strange. David had been prepared to die; but few weeks after the worship service he felt better and after some months even somehow restored. No doctor could explain it, neither his family nor his friends nor David himself. It was a miracle. God had decided to give to David some more years.
The Church asked David to become the chaplain of the the Bafut Sisterhood. And there he was when I visited him 1991. His body was weak but his spirit and his soul werde totally present. He was again David, the great pastor: so much gifted in pastoral care. People came from near and far to ask for his advice. And out of the depth and hight of his experience of death and life he found in consultation with them words to let them find the way which would be good for themselves, for their neighbours and before God.
1997, 7 years after the threatening diagnosis of the medical experts. David died within few hours in the way the doctors had propheside. But for those who had found their way on the basis of his counselling, for his family and for us, who lived with him, he was not dead. He is alive. The dead are not dead.
