These funeral gigs

A big deviation this topic-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 picture 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 thirty, fifty or eighty year old-there’re are 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 seventy 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 I 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 fifty says she’d never forget the types of conversations going on over her head whilst 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 fourty 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 seventy? I’d never forget my first Lagos funeral. I had just relocated from my port-Harcourt to Lagos and a friend’s father who was over sixty but under seventy 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.

Nkiru Olumide-Ojo