My Dad's Dad died in 2007. It was the first time I attended the burial of a relative. Forgive me, but I didn't feel it.
During his burial, I was only interested in the George wrapper tied on my waist, the white polo that had his face, name, time of existence and age in front and behind which had Adieu Papa written in styles. Then I use to think Adieu was a human being. Those days, when my parents returned from burials I hurry to check the back of their branded clothes after which I will feel bad for Adieu. One time I shook my head and told myself Adieu is now an orphan. Because I saw two shirts one for his mother, Adieu Mama; and one for his father.
But at Grandpa's funeral, I knew Adieu wasn't my relative, I didn't know so many people from my dad's side though, but I knew enough to know that Adieu wasn't my relative and as such must mean another thing.
As folks were going to the mortuary to bring back grandpa's body, my mum's mother told me to not go anywhere, my mum said the same thing. And I had wholeheartedly agreed, because I had phobia for dead people 😂 I don't know what will become of me if I go to the mortuary and see plenty of them. So I announced that my grandma said I shouldn't go to the mortuary and I will not go.
What's my own kwanu? I was jejely standing few feet away from my grandma, the words "grandma says I shouldn't go anywhere" hanging on my tongue waiting to drop should incase anyone asked me why I'm not on the bus headed for the mortuary.
If it were to be my mum's people, I'll be relaxed, they do not send small children on entourage for dead people, but there's something telling me inside my mind that I must go to the mortuary, those my father's people, they don't know who's big and who's small ni 😂. I knew because my father's brother kids many of which were my mate where happily seated in one of the buses headed for the mortuary.
I was on my own dancing o, when my uncle called my name. The last child of my late grandpa. There and then I knew, something terrible wants to happen. Uncle asked me what I'm doing. I looked at my waist wrapped in a George and was about telling him what my grandma said when he commanded me to enter the bus that I was going to the morgue. Uncle said I am a man. See me na. Me, man. Small pikin like me that his beloved grandma had warned to not go anywhere. I looked around I couldn't see my mum's relative. That's how I started walking to the bus like slave captives boarding ship.
I thought uncle will ask me if I'm afraid ni. But I know that man, say you're scared and chop slap. All these people sef. Brethren, I started calling on God to help me. To save me. "Father I am but a child." How many of you watched last burial? If I tell you say because of that film I couldn't sleep in the house alone or even enter dark room, you will not believe. Now I was going to see tens of them.
God heard me. Praaaaaaiiiiiissssseee Him! Before our bus will reach mortuary, grandpa's body was on its way back. Coman see happiness. But then I liked their burial procession ehn. I'll write about it. You'll momentarily forget you're in a 'burial' procession, abi you'll be intoxicated sef. All those driving aren't with clear eyes. Fast and furious gats nothing on it.
The only time I'd gone to the morgue since birth was when we were to bury that my uncle ni. And mtccheww it wasn't worth the fears. I didn't have bad dreams, dead body hunting, or even an inch of fear. It was kpaima.
Moral lesson.
Wait till you grow, your fears can be immaterial!
OkayBye.
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