Story: The Burial - Season 1 - Episode 4

8 years ago

Story: The Burial - Season 1 - Episode 4

We got home that day with no word coming from me.

Thursday,the day Mrs Rosaline promised to come,came swiftly as if the other three days before it were not filled with life. She came and knocked on the door of grandpa’s office

“Come in……..Oh Funke!!!. Iwo ni??(It is you?)

“Yes! It is!.” She replied.

“How have you been faring?. Hope all is well?.” Papa asked

“Everything is fine Sir.” She replied. What brought Mrs. Funke to our house that day was supposed to be the cloth she gave us the other time we went to console the family.
She had come to collect the money,at the same time,to impose or lure grandpa to buy her chosen cloth,Wow!!!. Chosen cloth?. So this issue wasn’t resolved yet. The dis-unity among Mama’s children isn’t over and will really be hard to end!.

Each child had picked his/her cloth,the highest form of dis-unity is a family of Six(6) blood children,choosing 6 different attire for the burial of their mother. A mother that gave birth to the Six of them,impregnated by Same man,I mean this children are of the same father and mother.

If there is something thicker than blood I could use to describe the strong tie that is supposed to exist between these children,it would have been nice but there is nothing. The bond that is supposed to be between them could just be broken by death but here they are,each picking his/her own attire for the burial of their mother.

“Well,I have to get in contact with our side of the family,we don’t know what they might decide.” Was Papa’s response to all Mrs. Funke said.

She left that day,Papa didn’t collect another cloth from her but he gave her the money for the first.

“Hello kehinde, shey o le yoju si mi??.(Can you please come over?).” Papa said to Ms. kehinde on phone and few minutes later,she arrived.

“Awon omo iya Sogo ti decide,won de ti mu aso to fe lo fun oku iya won (the children of iya Sogo have decided,they had picked attires for their mother’s burial), so I want to know what you people plan doing,that’s why I decided you should come over.”

“I will have to assemble the others and we will give you a feedback” she said as she left.

Ms. kehinde is a barren woman of 48,she is one of the daughter’s of my grandpa’s brother. The story of her barrenness I was told began way back when she was young,at about the age of 23. She was cursed and it seems that had really been playing its part in her ‘childless-ness’.

Her father who became blind at old age was brought food and money on christmas,not knowing the content of the food and amount my grandpa sent,he didn’t bother to know. Poor blind man,whatever you give him would please him so long he was satisfied.

The food my grandpa sent that day was in a mini-cooler filled with jollof-rice,2 fried fishes and 4 fried turkeys with sauce drizzled over them. Wads of one one thousand naira note of 5pieces in an envelope.
Ms. kehinde and one of her elder brother planned that day and they removed half of the rice in the cooler,all turkeys,one and the half fish and left half fish on the remaining rice for the poor man who is their father. They didn’t even inform him Papa sent him money along with the food.
Later that day,Papa went to visit him,he asked him hope he enjoyed his meal and had all the meats and fishes to himself but he was shocked when he was told he only had a fish to himself. He even said a fish not knowing it was half they served him. Papa inquired further may be he received the money he sent in an envelope but was more shocked when he was told “No one told me you sent money but food.”

Immediately Ms. kehinde was summoned,she came and started feeling uneasy. Papa asked about all his brother had complained and she couldn’t deny it. Her father had nothing to say than “that means,it’s been long you’ve been doing such,you will never,…………..” And that was the curse. She attempted to beg her father afterwards but he turned deaf ears,it was later when she asked for some elders intercession that her father forgave her before his death but God knows why she is still barren.

‘Our side’ of the family that Papa had been mentioning is different in so many ways I wouldn’t like to go into because we are also divided.

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The next day,Ms. kehinde was able to gather about 10 other members from their own side of the family to discuss and make arrangements for the burial. A burial that wasn’t of their father neither of their mother.

It was agreed our side of the family would pick an attire so as to stand out on that day,have a tent to ourselves,food and everything that would make the burial a befitting one. What got me sick was that,it was just a one day thing,to a woman,though she might not be just an ordinary woman with the adjectives have used to qualify her. She obviously wasn’t any woman,she was adorable and a mother every child would wish to have as a mother. But was these arrangements and cloth picking nevertheless going to make her happy where she was or is going,when the very thing she longed for in her life time wasn’t resolved?.

The thought that came to my mind that day was,why were they bothering to have a party when the woman might not be happy?.

But it was typical of every yoruba people,they so much like party,as if they always pray each day for something that would cause to throw-up a party to happen.
Parties to them was a normal day to day activities of life. This thought took my mind to the ‘Campos Square’ located on the island in lagos. There is no day you would pass by the square without seeing the place filled with people partying. Something that used to be a friday to sunday’s event had turned everyday’s event.
If you were a child of these people throwing-up parties,you ask for money to buy anything in school,the only reply you would get was that “Market hasn’t been moving well.” I had to save myself of the thoughts cause there was nothing I could do to stop it,it had become a characteristic.

I looked at Ms. kehinde,the master planner and she defines every feature of a typical yoruba woman(‘islander’ for that matter), except for her barrenness. (I made the sign of the cross saying “may God forgive me”? and I got back from the journey the train of thoughts had took me.
They went to pick a cloth at the market that day,I wondered how fast that was and we were shown the attire. It looks good anyway,Da viva is always a nice attire and Mr. Yellow would sew me a fitted ‘Gbamu Gbamu’ was all I could think.

I didn’t know ‘Agege,at Mama’s house was boiling’ and what to expect the next day. A day ‘Slap was busy flying around catching faces,clothes tearing to expose dangling and falling b0s0m and some things the eyes were just meant not to see!!!.