These funeral gigs

This topic is a big deviation – but it is one I cannot stay silent over (any longer) – I was doing the usual to beat traffic one evening – I was looking through my social messaging service on my phone – when I noticed a friend had travelled to a town in the South West. Her display of pictures and message said as much.

Gorgeous, best describes how she looked in her traditional attire, complete with the full gele (headgear), make up and jewellery as is usual for wedding. Wedding? I asked? No, funeral she replied – a memorial or funeral service? – funeral service she insisted. I told her these days it was hard to tell the difference – not just from the non differentiating regalia – but also from the outlook. She and her partner were smiling happily into the camera. Whether it is a 30, 50 or 80-year old – there’re too many funeral gigs all well tucked under the ‘celebrating life’ statement.

Each time I complain, I’m told that in the Yoruba tradition once you have a grandchild – it’s a celebratory funeral service and party – regardless of whether you are far away from the agreed 70 years (the globally accepted longevity range) or close to it. My faith teaches us that our life should be measured by quality not quantity – but that isn’t the subject of the matter today.

Today is a loud wonder about how everything is slowing, turning into a party with us Nigerians even more so Lagosians. A friend who used to live in the United States tells me; her colleagues will have a full fit if they had a glimpse of what we did at our funeral gigs. I won’t blame them, even as soaked in our culture as I am; still find parts of it difficult to comprehend.

Why do people make others spend so much alongside their grief? (even if money wasn’t an issue). Should one leave a funeral saying that was a good party? Isn’t it too much, the whole gig? One friend whose mum passed on at a little under 50 says she’d never forget the types of conversations going on over her head while she was still mourning. She said her aunties were having conversations like ‘how many cows would we kill and how many days of clothing’s do we need? She still marvels at how she found the strength to hold back from screaming at them. She said all she could think of was ‘my mum’s gone and the cow’s priority?’ – How?

I had been to a funeral in the UK, years ago – it was the funeral of a friend’s sister who had passed on after a protracted illness. She was about 40 or so. The funeral service was Anglican type – conducted perhaps with the standard Anglican template. Thereafter, visitors were served sandwiches and water/tea before the visitors departed.

Now, one can argue that the visitors didn’t travel from Aba, Onitsha or Akure to the venue, so sandwiches were enough for them. You may be right about that. But still how does anyone want to eat amala, rice at a funeral for an under 70? I’d never forget my first Lagos funeral. I had just relocated from Port Harcourt to Lagos, and a friend’s father who was over 60, but under 70 had just passed on. I was early to the service and my first surprise was the well outfitted family members. I have no problems with aso-ebi (aso-ebi being the same type clothing worn by more than two persons), what surprised me though was the jewellery and make-up that had no relationship to a funeral.

To be honest, I thought if we switched the brochures we held and put a groom and bride, we could well have been at a wedding. I joined the family to the cemetery after the funeral. My friend, her siblings and mum were beside themselves with sorrow. I couldn’t help shedding tears with them as well – their sorrow as the last rites was palpable. We all left with much sobriety to the venue of the reception. There expectedly was a huge crowd when we got there, meals and drinks had started making the rounds and the live band was on stage performing. We had hardly sat down when I found my friend and her siblings hit the band stand dancing away to the praise of the musician. Making the translation from the crying crew to the dancing one was quite difficult for me to make. The party continued till late. A colleague told me she was behind a funeral procession of an undergraduate. It was a hearse carrying the body and the gaily dressed students walking behind it on a long line… to add to her surprise she reported that almost the entire crew was punching away at their phones as they walked. By all means, party when people over 80 pass on, but please like the Americans would say ‘keep it down’ when the person is under 70. I truly wish the Old Roger tale was near real – Old Roger would have had many knocks to dispense. One almost wishes it were true.

merrykiks@yahoo.co.uk