Yes, we do. We no longer mourn the dead; we celebrate them. Ask me how.

I have buried my father. He died in 2005, aged 75. I have buried my mother. She died in 2021, aged 80. I have buried my father-in-law, my sisters’ mothers-in-law, my two younger brothers. So, I have quite an experience in conducting the funeral of the dead. Of all the burials, none pained like my two younger brothers. One died without marrying, and the other left four young children and a widow. I went through torment conducting their funerals. You can understand the pain.

On the other hand, the death of my parents, as hurtful as it was, cannot be compared to the two brothers in terms of the grief felt. After all, we all must die. However, we pray to live long and in good health to see our children’s children. So, when someone dies, we grieve because life is lost and we won’t see the person ever again.

But these don’t worry me that much. What bothers me, I dare to say, very much so, is what we do with the dead under the term funeral. Some call it ‘celebration of life’ during which we, indeed, celebrate life of the dead. I called mine “celebrating the life” of my mother. I will tell you why later.

When somebody dies, we should mourn. The mood should be sombre. Our thoughts and prayers should go to the family of dead. We should be concerned with the challenges those left behind will face. However, we are concerned with how the dead will be buried in celebration, and not in mourning.

So, we sit down to plan the obsequies. Repair and repaint our houses. Hire chairs, tables, tents, and all sorts. Cook assorted food. Buy assorted drinks. Offset dues the dead owed. Take all manner of insults from the church, the age grade, various associations, rain makers, security people, all of whom you must appease by way of sumptuous entertainment or else they would frustrate your funeral plans and make you weep, not for the dead, but for man’s wickedness.

Granted, we have our different cultures, which must be observed when someone dies, the one that bothers me, and for which I write, is the way and manner we mourn and bury children and youths. How can you explain to me that a man who lost his 21-year-old son hired big tents, bought assorted drinks, cooked assorted food, invited a routine of friends, all of who came dressed to kill, just to mourn a young man who died without living a life for which he was born?

What are we celebrating? The dead or what?

Sometimes, it looks as if we were hoping and praying for somebody to die so we could spend money and show off. So, we repaint our houses, prepare for the funeral as if there’s an award to be won.

Tell me why your parents should live in dilapidated buildings only for you to repair and repaint them and remodel them when they die. Tell me why you should put the dead in the mortuary to complete your house before they’re buried. Tell me why your friends should come and ‘celebrate the death’ of your 21-year-old. Just tell me why. My parents never lived in unpainted house. Every touch on my village house happened in the presence of my parents. They died old and saw their grandchildren. And I buried and mourned them responsibly. I celebrated them alive. That’s why I tagged my mother’s, “celebrating the life of Mrs. Helen Chukwuelobe”.

I had a discussion with a friend of mine recently on what Igbos do in the name of burying the dead and we couldn’t understand why the death of our relations no longer sobers us, but rather gives us the opportunity to show off: take pictures, smile, drink, feast, laugh, and make merry. Somebody said that once the dead is buried, the grief lessens, and we should be free to eat, drink, dance, share gift items, and go home, so that the deceased family will feel less pain.

I can understand when we do these things for the aged. What I don’t understand is why we do likewise for the young dead. Should we celebrate them or mourn them?

We may need to revisit this oftentimes ostentatious display of wealth in the name of burying the dead. I fear that rather than the souls of the dead young ones resting in peace, they will be troubled at what we do with their passing.

My friend died this morning. Everybody is typing, “may his soul rest in peace.” People are showing grief. Next is feasting. And feasting will be done.

Sad