About 400 bereaved families in Onitsha and its environs found themselves in double jeopardy recently, when the mortuary storing the remains of their loved ones was gutted by fire. Their pain knew no bounds when they saw hundreds of charred remains of dead bodies. They wept, not just for the loss of a dear one, but also for the thought of never having an opportunity to give the dead a decent burial.
To get a sense of the scale of this disaster, consider the fact that some corpses were burnt beyond recognition, while others were burnt to ashes. One particular family was scheduled to bury their loved one on that day; but, it was one day too late, because they were unable to distinguish their departed loved one from the mass of burnt dead bodies. I cannot begin to imagine the emotional trauma they underwent on that terrible day. How would they now honour the departed? How do they forgive themselves for, maybe, taking too long before setting a burial date?  There are a plethora of questions to be asked, but answers seem hard to come by.
Some major questions need answering: why was the mortuary the only building to burn in that area? Also, what accounts for the speed of the fire in the mortuary? Is it a valid submission by the proprietor of the mortuary that the embalmment chemical was so inflammable as to fully cremate some of the bodies? Are there safety measures in place in case of any fire outbreak? Are all the embalming chemicals inflamable? Are there alternatives?
Sadly, a similar incident also occurred in Enugwu Ukwu, Anambra State in 2019, in which 50 corpses were incinerated. Governor Willy Obiano termed the disaster a double tragedy and even constituted a panel to unravel the immediate and remote causes of the fire. Unfortunately, to date, nothing has been heard from that panel. Sadly, the rumour that made the rounds, at that time, was that the fire was started by an arsonist to becloud the trafficking of body parts, was neither confirmed nor refuted.
In my musings, I have wondered why there were about 400 corpses in that mortuary. Even if Onitsha is a densely populated economic hub; but this general hospital mortuary is not the only one in the city? A little insight into this uncanny mystery came by way of a comment from the proprietor of the mortuary, stating that some of the corpses were abandoned. Now, how does a family abandon the remains of their loved one, especially, in cases where there are no legal encumbrances?
It is a truism that the greatest gift you can give a dead man is to commit him to mother earth. Evidently, this truth does not apply to Southern Nigeria where periodically hospitals give notice for the mass burial of seemingly abandoned corpses. The predominantly Muslim North scarcely encounters such challenge. Do we then say it is a Christian thing? As a Christian, I know of no scriptural foundation for this behavior. However, the tenets of Islam dictate same-day burial, unless where prevailing circumstances make it impossible.
Evidently, our culture is our undoing, via the economy of burial. Over the years, the cost of burial has gradually become prohibitive in some cultures here in the East of Nigeria. In many clans, men must be buried with a cow; in which case some even mock bereaved families for the size of their cows. For some, burial is competitive. For instance, a lot of people might want to replicate the atmosphere at the burial of Obi Cubana’s mother. Yet, others build a house before they can bury; one may wonder why the same money was not used to build the house while the departed was alive to enjoy.
This culture of long preservation of the departed has resulted in mortuary congestion on many occasions, leading to mass burials in Lagos and other states, as recent as 2020. In fact, to increase capacity in Anambra, someone suggested an underground mortuary as a remedy. However, the best solution is a paradigm shift in the way we think about burial rites. We must remember that we make our cultures, not vice versa. For instance, the use of cows should be made optional instead of compulsory in traditions where this practice is deeply entrenched.
As a people, we do not even mourn anymore; burial ceremonies are now avenues for displaying wealth, rather than a moment to pause and reflect. Because of the pressure of keeping up with society, families go into an inordinate borrowing just to execute the burial of a loved one. In today’s Nigeria, it could cost as much as half a million naira to execute an average burial in the East, especially if the dead is a male, and if you add the cow component.
The problem has a solution, only if the government knows where to look. For instance, the COVID-19 pandemic showed us all that we can bury the dead with much less. But, there are other solutions. State governments could follow after the example of some churches in making policies that prohibit undue length of time for the preservation of the dead. For instance, the Diocese of Niger Delta Anglican Communion, more than fifteen years ago, initiated a 28-day burial policy; stipulating that non-compliance would lead to forfeiture of a member’s benefits. Some others have gone as far as limiting the period to two weeks; indicating that from a policy standpoint, this problem can be solved.
Last week, the story of a 70-year old man simply known as Mr Leo went viral on the internet. According to the story, Leo, having seen the endemic poverty in his community took the initiative to make ready everything needed for his burial: casket, grave, refreshments, and every other item necessary for his obsequies. He further asserted that he never wanted to place a burden on anyone. However, the commentary on Leo’s actions is diverse across social media and on the radio. For some, he was in his right to plan for his burial; for others, his action portends evil – since you cannot leave an open grave in most cultures. But is there a better way to achieve the desires of Leo? Yes.
Funeral bonds are a major avenue in most civilised societies to prepare for one’s departure. They are provided by pension funds and insurance companies primarily, with a diversity of packages, depending on budget size, religion, culture, and taste. Subscribers pay a regular premium depending on the package; and at their demise, the companies take over the execution of their burial ceremonies in conjunction with anyone they have so chosen. By so doing, burdens are lifted off the shoulders of the living; and most of the reasons for delaying burials simply disappear. Can this be replicated in Nigeria? I think so.
There are multitudes of solutions available; the ones yielding results should be expanded and enforced like the COVID-19 protocols. Until we change our ways, either through policy or a culture shift, our mortuaries will remain full; and cremation without funeral rite, the likes we have seen lately in Anambra, would be a recurring decimal.

By: Raphael Pepple