By Dauda Taoheed
Beautiful is a treasure called culture. Africa cultural heritage is a white fowl that distinguished itself among the flock of other continent birds. It’s an exemplary peacock that others envy its idiosyncrasies and covets for the naturalization and domestication of the customs. Its uniqueness attracts not only the Black Caribbean but also magnetizes and melts the heart of Europe. The visibility of this is authenticated by the Afro-Brazilian cultural growth-rate in the South-America geographical heartland of the continent especially in the province of Bahia, the north-eastern part of Brazil. This placed an evidential seal on the international outlook of Africa culture. The influx of White researchers and students at Africa first generation institutions is another witness testifying to the glorification of Africa culture. With this, I am quite sure a few numbers of probative examples would’ve sprouted at your fertile intellective chamber. But, that should be reserved for the culturally alienated individuals in your ring. It would be an antidote to their apathetic mindset.
Part of the cherished culture is a wedding ceremony, extravagantly done by our forefathers especially when the bride modesty is unchallengeable. Drums of wine are rolled out to demonstrate their level of happiness. Different delicacies are prepared, and served to express the delightedness that emanates from the corridor of their daughter moral conduct that watered and staked the family goodwill plant, thereby flourishing among the horticulturist of values protectors amidst the lineages of the land. From amala with ewedu soup served with assorted dry fish to a sumptuous pounded yam, befriending an egusi pottage, supplemented by roasted bush meat. A bowl of yam porridge with bitter-leaf concoction is spooned out for well-wishers
enjoyment. Aye agbo, orun amo, after all, it is a joyous day of their sons and daughters. As Yoruba do say, a good name is better than karate of gold or diamond. Their sons and daughters uplifted the family reputation by keeping chaste until they chose their life partner. Thus, the occasion is celebrated in a glamorous way to mark their offspring achievement. Amplified, they’re on apala or juju melodious song with amazing dancing steps reinforced by the talking drum, bata or sakara, that if it’s feasible to ride horses in their bellies, no potholes will be encountered. Apart from this appealing ceremony worthy of imitation, we have the naming ceremony, freedom graduation ceremony and among others. This is just a little digression exemplifying Africa cultural magnificence amid the oddity of burial ceremony. However, this write-up main focus is on the increasing demeaning culture of burial festivity.
Despite the pinnacle position occupied in the cultural world. The barbaric black dot of a lavish burial ceremony is impurity on the venerated white garment of Africa culture. In this unenvious predicament, the Yoruba ethnic group had the largest stake in Nigeria. With a geometric dispersion of the most precious and acceptable values and norms into an unreturnable atmosphere-our local dialects, dressing mode, respect for the elderly values is melting beyond amendment. Instead of mending this broken pot, the laser is shifted to our old one’s time of departure. Then, we’ll invite people, the supposedly called well-wishers or what, to celebrate and feast with us, rejoicing on the exit of our hated ones because I believe a right-minded individual that knows what he or she is doing will never throw drums on the demise of his loved ones no matter how aged he is. Yes! We pray for the departure of our aged ones before us but,fortunately, when such prayer is accepted, we exhibit ungratefulness by throwing prodigal ceremony, spending extravagantly on an unproductive event.
Lugubriously, looking inward, less privilege family members scattered around every corner of the family tree, begging for cash assistance that could change their lives for better. But rather to invest in them, the mundane activities top the scale of their preference.
The prevalent of this mosaic culture in the Yoruba nation is widespread and contagious that no household is immune against it. It is not a disease found among the elite and the rich alone but also a misplacement of priority present in large number among the poor. The poor hold more substance to it to the extent that some have to withdraw their petty contribution, begging the leader of their esusu group to give them the chance to pick first. That shows the level at which the virus has eaten deep into Nigeria’s cultural structure.
After the death of Grandma or Grandpa, different nomenclatures are curated from different climes of the society for the deceased, locally called ‘Oku Egbe’ ‘Oku Amala’ ‘Oku Semo’-old age death, the demise of yam flour, demise of semolina. They throw parties where top musicians are called to play for them, criminally mutilating both foreign and Nigerian currencies on the artiste.
In some absurd situations, invitees would fight for foods, fist for gifts. Who you know determines the number of your takeaway. Ridiculously, a good child is celebrating the death of his parents. To make the irrational occasion colourful, they pick aso elegbe jo da. With their disgraceful head tie, designer shoes and expensive bags, the classical symbolic presentation of the deceased progeny makes their identification incontestable. To-ing and fro-ing every nook and cranny of the occasion with a self-appointed P.A who sees to his cash and kind gifts. Greeting the attendees for coming, eseun eseun, eku dide. Laughter escapes their cheeks while they exchange pleasantries and they all chorus in unison that awa na agbe yin arugbo wa, may our days be elongated than that of our parents.
From pallbearer’s performance to the slaughtering of cows accompanied by inter-continental meals, no amount is saved in the planning of a Nigerian burial ceremony. It is a zero-based budget that all income must be expended on the futile activity. Funeral parties are so important that families save up for their grandparents’ burial instead of medical expenses or providing them monthly pension during their old age. Cases of where old ones are factories of unpleasant smell in their dormitory are seen and reported. Some parents languish in wretchedness before they depart this world with nobody to take care of them. Regrettably, what is now the essence of the parties organized when your parents suffered before they died? Why should you wash your parents’ dirty breeches outside when you knew they were evicted from this world as a itinerate beggar? Why call people for merriment when visitation to their places of abode is once in a blue moon? Can you beat your chest and say all that you have done to your parents should be reciprocated by your children?
Sardonic it is where children of the decease go bankrupt after the ceremony thinking that the unpalatable burial investment will yield in multiples. With the current trend of the burial ceremonies, cemented by event seasonings in order to make it more scintillating, in the years to come, people will prefer to invest in it than marriage as we are currently witnessing it. This is proven in the unwelcoming attitude of people in borrowing you money for a wedding ceremony or other productive cause compare to the burial ceremony. Whenever the need arises for a productive cause, they will be short of money but when it is a burial, the opulence is there to sponsor you. Despite the red light visibility, man still falls prey for the demonic trap.
The most trajectory part of the narration is how some successors turn the death of their parents to a profitable enterprise by selling out clothes to covetous and party addicted individuals whose sole motive is to devour and have a bite of every morsel of food prepared in the occasion. This is in response to the popular argot-owo ankara oje semo. Using the cloth as a ticket to cart away every single gift distributed in the party. Parties are done in stylish grandeur for it to be the latest ceremonious talk in town, entering the unrewarding contest of which burial party is the most dope of the entire organised one in the just-concluded month?
Borrowing a leaf from tortoise foxiness behaviour and to balance the pendulum of not being financially cheated, the invitees later send out her invitations to those she had celebrated with.
Perhaps, they pray for quick eviction of mama resulting from the slight illness she had or the strong taste she had for money or parties because the funeral days are not that far from one another. The feminine qualification is used because this culture is rampant among female than the male counterpart. From the painted disheartening reality show, is it the love of iya agba/baba agba or that of their pocket that take a lead? Is this affection or deception? I leave that for you to
reflect upon.
The ravaging virus of monstrous burial ceremony is spreading beyond our extinguishment. In a few years to come, our parents or grandparents will be gone and our personality will determine what culture our offspring will inherit from us. We jointly need to amputate the infectious leg of exorbitant funeral rites before it spread to other parts of our body. Yes! Our parents had gotten it wrong. Do we need to enter the reptile hole with them knowing how poisonous the sting is?
Death plucked the soul of mama or papa unconsciously and against their will. The aftermath consequences of what they’re facing in the grave as a result of your inordinate actions are oblivious to you. They need your PRAYERS, not the PREYERS ticket you’re offering.
Dauda Taoheed is a recent graduate of Public Administration, University of Ilorin. He writes in from Ibadan.
