Life is fickle and short, it is many at times snuffed out of the unsuspecting fragile being when it is least expected and their families thrown into chaos, panic and grief. I don't know, but I believe that it is on this premise that a song was developed in my language that says "usen iba ke owo ake yene, usen emana ye usen mkpa".
This literally translates that "man has only two days, the day he's born and the day he dies". At first I found it amusing but annoying that anyone would take the pains to compose such an unfair song, where a man's whole life in between his birthdate and death date are reduced to nothing as if his life had no meaning.
That was up until my dad passed and the realities of our tradition beamed its bright lights in our direction. My mom was wrecked, my sister was distraught and my elder was caught up in a web where the cobs were traditional rituals and practices that his youthful brain could barely comprehend. It seemed as if everyone wanted their own bite of the corpse.
The mourn house was a beehive of activities, trespassed by professional sympathizers and pretentiously hurt vultures who were not concerned with the well-being of the family but to have the opportunity to dip their beak into the feast that was about to unfold.
The life of a once vibrant and quite generous man was about to be reduced to mere volume of food to be served at his funeral, the amount of people to get intoxicated at his wake keep, and the amount of paunches to be bred at his final respect.
As the funeral date drew nearer, more and more groups kept lining up to get their own bite of the funeral cake. The village came with their own outrageous list, the women sang their way through the looting of each family member, the men kept calling for more alcohol with hoarse voices that reeked of intoxication.
The youths kept their camp in the darkest corner of the compound, hissing at everything that passed to come pay homage as they battled the men in the ring of drunkenness. It was becoming a feast for the whole community and our reputation was gaining traction with I and my brother walking around with our heads held high.
Carried away by the pump and ceremony and the fact that we were 'killing it', I had totally forgotten that it was still a grieving time for the family and that the community had no interest in our well-being, but just to wet their own selfish intentions.
Strolling through the kitchen, I could hear arguments and murmurs about the women stealing and looting cooking materials in the disguise of helping out with the cooking process, mom was running up and down trying to fix the problem without causing much of a fuss.
I went into the house scanning the rooms, looking for more food and drinks to spread for the vultures outside just to enhance our reputation as the family that delivered a worthy feast for the whole community to savour. Only if I could give more, we would be the talk of the town for the next few days or even weeks.
As I left the room with money to go get more drinks for 'my guys', I ran into my mom
"What's the money for" she asked looking uncomfortable
"I want to get more drinks for the guys" I replied proudly
She held my hands and dragged me into her bedroom, away from the prying eyes of everyone else.
"Haven't you given them enough drinks already?" she queried
"They said that it's not enough, that they need more" I answered, confused about her concern
"See son, after this funeral we'll still eat and you'll still have a life to go back to" she started looking even more concerned "let them manage what you've given them already. Go and keep that money, you'll need it later" she added before walking out.
After pondering on my mom's words for a few minutes, I went outside to tell the guys that there was no more drinks, and the disdain started. Murmurs of how I couldn't even give them enough drinks started surfacing, accompanied by mocking giggles. But I just quietly walked away.
That was when I realized that it was all a charade, nobody really cared about the family, it was all just pump and 'efizzy' for them and my disgust for the whole tradition began. The community never helped in any way, and did not care the slightest for us. All they wanted was to turn our grief into their feast.
And No, it wasn't just about us but other poor families who have been ruined just because a family member died. Many of them have been left in humongous debts where they never recovered from. I believe it's time some of these traditions are abolished.
Welcome to my blog, you can relax and be rest assured of quality content on diverse topics. You're free to air your views and opinions in the comments section, and It'll be my pleasure to learn and engage