THE WAY WE WERE

Seven days after his last town hall meeting, Chueke became ill. He was suffering from exhaustion with a high fever. He sent a message inviting all the members of The County Council of the Elders to his house. He used this special gathering of the Elders to offer his oral will to his colleagues and to prepare them for what would be coming in the future. Chueke opened the meeting by saying, “You have seen what happened, you have heard what happened, and now you know where our society is heading!” He thanked the Elders and his traditionalist supporters for “a fight well fought,” but urged them to continue fighting for the preservation of our traditions and culture. He cautioned, “In the name of ‘Developments’ and their newfound ‘Civilization,’ this generation shall uproot our sacred trees and build houses on their sites. They shall clear our sacred forests and build their churches on them. Their destruction shall know no boundaries.” Chueke added, “But let me say this to you, their rewards shall be heavy. For their destructive act of which they called Developments, shall lead them to unchecked erosion which shall sweep this land’s towns and villages. The removal of those trees and stones shall contribute to the weakening of the soil which they had held together for centuries. The absence of those trees and stones will make the soil washable by the great rains and when this happens the mud from the high plain shall wash down to the lower valleys, covering our villages, roads, playing-grounds, streams and swamps. This will be the prize of their Developments.

 

They shall desecrate our shrines, holy grounds and temples. They shall kill and eat all the fishes in our sacred streams and lakes. All in the name of their newfound fate. But let it be known, when this happens they have destroyed the fabric that held their society together. They shall abandon the farmlands for other occupations, and when this happens there shall be hunger throughout the land and beyond. They shall also trade contentment for greed and the pursuit of money shall bring them the envy, jealousy, and covetousness which shall turn love and respect for one another to hatred.” Chueke glorified the past and pitied the future.

 

He told his colleagues, “I have served you with pride and with all my strength, I have served our ancestors with respect and according to their dictates, I have served my people with all my intelligence and love, I am proud of who I am. I am grateful to my maker for being a part of this great nation Alayi, and Bende Igbo.” Chueke got up and shook hands with each elder in the room. The elders were shocked because shaking hands after speeches was not Chueke’s style. They knew that something strange was happening. For in our tradition, it is the audience that offers the handshake from a person who has delivered a speech, not the other way around. Besides, Chueke was the oldest of all the elders, nobody expected him to get up and walk to each elder for a handshake.

 

Chueke announced to his colleagues, “I have a fever that comes and goes…but we are not children. My luggage is packed, my luggage is packed,” he repeated to them. “I am prepared and ready for a journey,” he added. Chueke was referring to death as a journey and his colleagues knew it.

 

Some members of the Elders tried to tell Chueke that his time had not yet come, but Chueke stressed, “I want you to bury me according to our ancestral traditions.” He continued, “I don’t think that it will be a prolonged preparation, but just in case…do not waste your time looking for Dibia for I know that I am ready to travel.” The mood in the room was now subdued although everyone in the house knew that Chueke had enjoyed longevity and was blessed by Obasi bu lelu, la Obasi bu lala! Chueke was now ohu afa isi l’akpuru, meaning one hundred and fifty years old. He was so old that he could not look straight up to the sky because he had suffered from osteoporosis a year earlier. However, whatever his age, Chueke aged gracefully. It is difficult to clearly state his age because during the time he was born, there were no hospitals or Birth and Death records in Alayi. The method used during his time for the calculation of age was the traditional farmland system of seven years shifting cultivation additions. But the fact that he prophesied his own death was a touching experience to his colleagues. The elders got up from their seats, each went to Chueke and shook hands again, saying, “Anyi anulanu,” meaning, we have heard! They went to Chueke’s eldest son Okpo and asked him to let them know of any changes in Chueke’s health.

 

At dawn Chueke became very ill. None of his eleven children from his two wives could sleep, until his senior wife Okpo’s mother Oyidia, (meaning one who resembles her husband), came and offered Chueke a drink of Ajuogwu [poison deterrent], which lowered his temperature. Early in the morning Chueke inquired from Oyidia, “Which day of the week is today?” Oyidia responded, “today is Orie” [the second day of Igbo week]. On the night of Orie, an owl-cry from a nearby Iroko tree disrupted the entire village from sleep. Chueke’s second wife Ugbonma, (meaning tray of beauty; beautiful boat/ship) and her son Ogbonnaya went into the kitchen and placed an empty clay pot on a fire till the pot turned red, making the owl fly away from the tree. Traditionally an owl cry is a sign of death in our culture. It does so only when an important member of the society is passing away. In the morning Chueke inquired again, “which day of the week is today?” Oyidia responded, “it is Afoukwu Umuenyere, meaning Umuenyere market day. Chueke responded, “Amadu anaghu eje mba l’izu afoukwu,” literally translated, a citizen of Umuenyere does not travel on our market day. Chueke alluded to our traditional belief that a great and honorable man does not die on his market day. He then asked Oyidia to tell him when the sun set and she agreed. With the cry of an owl at night, the entire village braced for the worst—the death of Chueke Alayi, the end of an era. Chueke got worse the next day with a severely high fever. He asked Oyidia again, “Which day of the week is today?” Oyidia responded Nkwo Item, meaning the fourth day of Igbo week, which happened to be the Okoko Item market day. Chueke nodded his head in acknowledgment. He had already divided his wealth among his sons and daughters, giving each a share according to the laws of the land. He asked for water to drink and Oyidia rushed to her kitchen, returning with a bowl of cold water. When she bent down on her knees to give him water, she discovered that Chueke had died.

 

Oyidia, a slim, beautiful, graying woman, mature and intelligent, got up, wiping away tears from her eyes. She placed the bowl near a fireplace in the center of the room, and calmly walked to the living room where all the family members gathered. She called her eldest son Okpo and informed him of the death of his father. Okpo immediately sent his brothers to inform all the ikwu [kin] in Alayi of the passing away of Chueke. He personally went to the elders in the village and told them that Chueke had died.

 

According to our tradition, it is the oldest male in the village that is responsible for preparing and dressing males when they die. Two Elders quietly arrived and went into the room where Chueke’s body lay. They called him by his name, alternating their calls with his title names, adding “la l’udo woo,” meaning “go in peace.” They took warm water and a cloth to wash Chueke’s body before dressing him. They cleaned him, stretched his fingers and closed his eyes, then dressed him in traditional attire. They tied aji around his waist and put okpu ugbo’gu [a Bende Igbo war dance hat] on his head, pinning a spotless white eagle’s feather to the hat and called him Ogbu ugo, meaning “the Eagle killer.” His body was partially wrapped with George-cloth and partially dressed with tiger and leopard-skin, and they called him Ogbu agu, meaning “the killer of tigers and leopards.” They tied white Oza around his left arm and rested his akparaja beside him next to his right hand and called him Ogbamkpu, meaning “the avenger.” Chueke looked like a sleeping warrior. The two elders who prepared Chueke’s body lit and burned Ogbili akwu [a large semi ball-like head from a palm tree, where palm fruits attach. When the fruits are removed from it, the shell is known as Ogbili akwu and Osaghisa [Carob, a sweet smelling all purpose fruit]. This is a traditional method used for temporarily preserving the body of the dead while deodorizing the air until the arrival of the immediate family members.

 

When he had been properly dressed, Ikoro [the Igbo largest wooden ceremonial drum] was sounded. Ikoro does not sound for every man. It only sounds for men with special traditional status. Upon the sounding of Ikoro, the wailing began…women and children started weeping, gun shots went off round—after round and cries were heard all over the village. Men old and young alike—gathered and the grave digging began. People from all the Ikwu in Alayi—daughters, first and second in-laws, members of Chueke’s mother’s family, age groups members, and others from neighboring counties, towns and villages arrived to view Chueke’s body. Our tradition mandates that a body must be buried within the day of death, but no burial must be conducted at nightfall. Chueke died at midnight, so he must be buried before sunset. His body was placed for the mourners to view and for the implementation of our traditional rites. Because Chueke died of natural causes, the elder who was given mayi eji avuru ozu (also known as Anugbaa), meaning “the last drink with the deceased,” had no problem choosing his words for the libation. All he did was to wish Chueke goodbye, good luck and a safe journey. Chueke’s death was not a bad death according to our traditional beliefs. Chueke died the death of Onwu ufe l’odo [the death of an aged man; a good death]. He did not die a shameful death by hanging himself.

 

He did not die from any abnormal illness considered an abomination, such as a swollen body or from small-pox, of which the dictates of the land mandate throwing his body in the forest or in a shallow grave in the forest. Nor was Chueke’s death classified as suspicious. Had he died from any suspicious cause, his face would have been washed and the water fed to the suspected culprit, or a kolanut would have been placed on his chest and the suspect forced to bend down and pick up the kolanut with his mouth and eat. Instead, after wishing Chueke a safe journey, the elder threw the entire drink on Chueke’s body before refilling the cup for himself. Chueke was buried according to our traditional dictates. His body was wrapped in a common straw mat and buried in his bedroom next to the fire-place. In order to make room, the three young men who dug his grave carried the earth from the pit outside in front of Chueke’s house and deposited a mound of earth on the right hand corner of his house. When the digging was completed, one of the grave diggers informed Okpo, who secretly told an elder, a member of Chueke’s age group. The elder instructed the grave to be inspected, making sure it conformed with the dictates of our traditions. The grave must be wide enough to lay Chueke’s body and accommodate whatever properties may be buried with him. These properties must be arranged side by side next to his body but not on top of him. An elder with a kerosene lamp climbed down a ladder into the freshly dug empty grave and came out nodding his head in acceptance. Two wide ladders made from raffia stems or branches were lowered down into the grave side by side and his body was carried down and place in accordance with our traditions; with his face up, head to the East and feet to the West.

 

The two persons who carried Chueke’s body to the grave and lay it in place climbed up and the ladders were retrieved and destroyed. Chueke’s children, grand children, great grandchildren and two wives were lined up in traditional ranks. Each one made a wish and threw earth from the grave back at Chueke’s body in the pit. Chueke’s eldest son Okpo began this ritual of earth-throwing and wish-making. He made his wishes and threw first a tail of bullock into his father’s grave. This was in accordance with the will of his father. The ritual continued until all members of Chueke’s family had made their wishes and thrown earth back into the grave.

 

While covering the grave, emotions flared among Chueke’s daughters and wives. Chueke’s eldest daughter Ugo, meaning “Eagle,” attempted to fall into the grave but was restrained by family members and carried away. Chueke’s grave was covered with a mound of earth, and in front of his house acham [ a large piece of cloth hung like a flag in front of a deceased person’s house], was fastened on a tall bamboo pole together with okpu ugbo ogu, and pinned next to his front door. Oyidia sacrificed okuku ikpochi ili [the first sacrificed animal made on behalf of the deceased.] It is killed immediately upon closing the grave by his widow. She holds the cock and slams it on top of the freshly covered grave as she cries and calls the name of her dead husband. She must repeat this act four times till the cock is dead. Mourners were served food and drinks according to our traditions. Meanwhile in Oyidia and Ugbonma’s kitchen, The Daughters of the Village gathered and both Chueke’s wives had their hair shaved bald. Our tradition mandates the complete shaving of a widow’s hair. Then the women enter a period of Igba mkpe [mourning], in which they wear only black clothes for one year.

 

Our tradition mandates the eldest son automatically becomes the head of the household upon the death of his father. He inherits his father’s house and makes important family decisions. Chueke’s eldest son Okpo announced to the mourners the date of ikwa mmadu [the burial ceremony] saying, “We will be burying our father l’izu abuo (izu is eight days, and izu abuo-meaning sixteen days). Although our tradition allows from seven days to one year after the death occurs for the estate of the deceased to perform burial ceremonies, Chueke’s burial ceremony could have been performed within seven or eight days of his death because his estate was prepared for his death. Besides, Chueke was a wealthy man who led a meaningful and respected life and everyone knew him. But his family set his burial ceremony on the sixteenth day from the date of his death simply to allow them time. Traditionally after the announcement to the mourners, the family of the deceased must separately invite Ikwu [kin] in-laws, age-grades both of the deceased and those of his sons, to officially inform them of the planned burial ceremony date. The only group who would not be invited, but who must be informed by carrying a pot of raffia wine to, are the members of the deceased man’s mother’s family. Without the implementation of this traditional process there would be no burial ceremony.