BETWEEN LIFE AND AFTERLIFE (In honour of grandma: Dede 26-Dec-2014) When we got to the place where an apartment was rented for her at the price higher than she used to get one, we met her laid down. She had been sleeping for so long. Many persons, especially the grand-children could not understood while she had to sleep for so long that even during our visitation, she did not open her eyes to see us neither did she say hi to us. She had been there for a year without food, air or water. Her clothes was the same but she did not complain. To some who recognized her when she was like us she had undergone changes that only faint features were used to identify her. She had been on “drug” for roughly a year. She was my paternal grandmother -AYABA ESTHER RODIAH DEDE. After thorough negotiation and payment of accrued rents for the months she was there, she was moved into another “beautiful-white-house”. The house was made of wood with the inner part cushioned with soft clothes. It has no window but with a door. Externally, it was decorated with gold at six selected regions on the top and along the middle. Hmmm…. the house was a beautiful one but it was sorrowfully purchased without her Knowledge. The house was one of such small houses that can be moved on foot or in an “automobile bigger house”. In her new house, she was carried by six-able bodied men and placed in a green mobile house and off we went. Deep within me, I was still wondering whether she would wake up at least open her eyes to see some of us who did not know her well when she was “like us” but my heart was only travelling about in vain. My thoughtful mind met no tangible obstacle. We arrived at the largest playing ground in Ilaje local government of Ondo state and the white house was moved onto a beautifully decorated table under a nicely decorated canopy. Her enlarged photograph was placed at the base of the table so that everyone would see. She had been transformed into a different body. Just as culture demands, the church conducted a “vigil” in honour of grandma. The children and those who attended the service were made to sing songs reflective of “all suffering” before the “end” and life after the end. The preacher mounted the podium afterward to remind everyone of the need for good work while still “like us”. The beauty of such vigil was that, unlike us , mama was unconscious of everything that was done in her honour. The preacher ended with the saying “the witness of humans is the establishment of godly witness”, a statement that further admonished all to be nice to everyone they met while living. Other reflective songs were sung at the vigil. One of the lines of one popular one read Jerusalem on high…. At the end of the vigil, testifiers from grandma’s paternal family, maternal family as well as those of her husband were called to say one thing about her. Afterward, a closing prayer was said by one of the pastors in mama’s church about 12:00 am on the 27th of December 2014. Almost immediately, the biding party organized in grandma’s honour commenced. In such parties, each person closely related to mama was made to dance from the family seat to the podium where the music band sang celebration songs and back to their seats. The sitting arrangement was such that the family members sat directly opposite the podium and close to the canopy that housed mama. The children sat differently with their guests under different parts of the canopies at the sides of that of the family. Geometrically, the arrangement was cuboidal with the space left for “parting party dance”. The two-by-two dance (or in some one-by-one) started with the head of the family, a man in his early 90’s. He danced step-wisely and was followed by a larged crowd. Next was the younger brother of my grandma, a man man-enough to create a community. He too was followed by a large crowd of people. Those two danced to symbolize the final biding party of their own mother, my great grandmother. The children danced in two’s, the first set being the youngest male and the first born child (and daughter) of grandma. My uncle and his wife pulled a large crowd who had come to celebrate with them. The eldest child too was proudly supported by her grown-up sons who made sure that their mother was well represented. They danced to and fro the rectangular playing ground. While at the podium, the musician praised them for giving their mother a befitting parting party in return for the money they “spray” on him. That was the way it ought to be whether mama had existed happily or sadly. Subsequently, two other children were called and in like manner they danced to and fro. This was repeated until the last two who incidentally were the only completely survived twins mama had. My dad was one of the two, precisely the first known as “Taiwo” in Yoruba. Sometimes culture can be funny but is always apparently rich. One of my dad’s sisters who “left” before grandma was represented by her only son. Although very young and a grandchild, he did like other sons and was thought to have pulled the largest crowd sympathetically or culturally. My nephew could be sorrowful but that representation was very significant. He might not have made any financial contribution to the party but was given equal opportunity as would have been given to his mother. Hmmm… truly no matter the level of decadence in the society, the beauty and riches of our culture is still very high. The dance came to a halt at about 4:30 am and then we waited till the dawn of the day to accompany mama to her final resting home. At about 8:30am, grandma in her beautifully decorated one-door-but-no-window-white-house was lifted off the table and moved onto the green automobile that brought her the previous day. The church trumpeters sang sorrowful but thoughtful goodbye-songs with their trumpets when we were about to leave the playing ground. Just about 9:00am, the automobile, accompanied by some others moved toward grandma’s final home. Hmmm… within me, I was still waiting to hear her say stop. I waited to hear the door of her white house open. I waited and waited and waited but nothing happened. Then it occurred to me that GRANDMA HAS REALLY GONE. We got to the place where she was to rest until she will be called. The home was made in the earth. In Yoruba, such house is usually referred to as “ese bata mefa”, meaning “six feet”. It was constructed with hollow blocks. Like the white house, mama’s new resting home has no window and the only door was to be covered with earth. There at her home, Christian goodbye-songs were sung, admonishing bible passages were read and hope-of-resurrection speeches were delivered by dignitaries that attended the BURIAL. Finally the white house in which mama was carried was moved by the six-able bodied men and lowered into her new resting home. During that process, the children cried and wished she could rise but wishful thoughts are no realities. She might just be there in the spirit-body to tell us not to cry but who did recognized that? NONE. I stood motionless and my thin mind was hovering around life and happenings in the world. Questions that begged for non-existing answer kept coming. Unrealistic wishes came up but what can I do? I held back the hot tears that were been pulled by gravity, not because I lived with mama but because I was there with her in her last days on earth. I knew what she passed through and I never thought she was going to pass away after struggling at the mouth of death. I knew quite well that had she waited a little, she could enjoy the joy of motherhood-old-age. Death is cruel no matter the age class it takes. Then the children were asked to pour earth on their mother as culture demands. That could signified complete parting but while that was being done, we wailed and wailed because grandma lives on at least in our heart, in our imagination we could see her. She was always happy in her time . in my heart, she still live happily. Goodbye grandma, We love you, but God loves you more, Keep resting in the bosom of Almighty till we meet to part no more.
Posted on: Sun, 04 Jan 2015 19:43:51 +0000
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