Except those who occupy positions of advantage, every other person living in Nigeria must have, in one way or the other, been passing through a harrowing experience in this era of a pervasive economic downturn. Primarily, the removal of fuel subsidy and the change in the foreign exchange market format that drastically devalued the naira against the dollar are the major policy thrusts that finally brought the nation’s economy to its knees.
The common man is no longer able to afford the three-square meals in a day while the middleclass people watch their bank accounts deplete faster than usual. Income remains either constant or reduced, but rents, school fees, transport fares, prices of household items, even the already dangerously high unemployment rate, are flying off the handle.
The hard times that have refused to go away in three years of the non-subsidy regime should indeed offer us the opportunity to interrogate some of the practices that create deep holes in our pockets and render us poorer than ever before. As hamlets, clans, and communities, let us review our processes of socialization as they concern burials and marriages. These two ceremonies consume a large chunk of our incomes, especially in Igbo land.
Back in the old days, no one cooked in the family of the deceased. Relatives and sympathizers brought food to the bereaved throughout the few days the funeral rites lasted. Although the family was expected to perform some customary rites and present items to the various kindreds of the deceased, both paternal and maternal, to inform them of the demise of one of them, it was merely tokenish.
Today, everything has changed. Burials are no longer solemn events but jamborees where the family is expected to feed the entire kindred for as long as the corpse remains in the mortuary. They are compelled to provide every item in a bloated list handed over to them by various groups before they lower their lost one into the grave. Inside the list are, at least a cow, and a motley of other four-legged animals that are lined up for slaughter over one ritual or the other. The family prepares brochures, sew uniforms, even hire pallbearers to display on the streets.
In order to meet up, the family is forced to sell their land or borrow from neighbours. Resources that would have been channelled into maintenance of the living are squandered in an attempt to give the dead “a befitting burial”. A double tragedy, therefore, occurs because the cycle of poverty continues thereafter.
Before the civil war, when mortuaries had not been turned into big business, people buried their loved ones within two days or less, and when it was necessary to keep them longer, they embalmed them at home. The funeral ceremony took place later if the status of the deceased required it. It’s a different scenario these days that families see burial as projects and people compete among themselves in lavish ceremonies. For the reason that food and wine flow freely at burials, a good number of people have formed the habit of congregating where it is happening like vultures would hover around carcass. Hence, the uncanny expression, ozu a ga agba nmai, meaning that there will be much wine at this burial.
Next in the lineup of agents of our impoverishment is a series of demands placed before desiring men of age who want to go into marriage. Our customs have been so insensitive to the plight of overgrown bachelors held down by sky-high bride prices and expensive but compulsory items that they must present to their in-laws before taking their brides home. Many men have remained unmarried because they cannot afford to pay for, as well as maintain, a wife. Erroneously, they are labelled chronic bachelors or are suspected to have been hampered by their spirit wives.
Our culture holds that it would be more dignifying that a man paid heavily to acquire a wife whereas the ordinary meaning of it is that we unwittingly sell our girl child by placing a compulsory price on her. The element of compulsion is where the problem lies. A wealthy person should feel free to splash his wealth on his in-laws, but for a community to expect a less fortunate person to do the same thing is an overkill.
A simple readjustment in this area can make things easy for this class of young men. In the civilized world, neither men nor women pay bride price or dowry as a condition to marry. They simply get wedded in the registry and begin lives as husband and wife after a ceremony that is not specific as to its form. What’s wrong with that?
Nigerians by now should learn that protests and social media tantrums hardly touch the government to change some policies. The government and the citizens should learn to abandon profligacy and embrace the principles of frugality in our daily dealings. In other words, as the adage goes, when the soup is depleted, the one on the meal should learn to resize his ball of fufu. Another way to say it is that Nigerians must learn to cut their coats according to the cloth available.
To help the situation, our government should as a matter of urgency curtail its spending and borrowing patterns. It should stop listening to international monetary organisations like the IMF and World Bank whose interest is mainly to profit western countries and keep developing nations perpetually tied to their apron strings economically.
This administration will not be the first to introduce cost-cutting measures if they do. The first Olusegun Obasanjo regime was popular for its low-profile policy when the highest vehicle used in all government agencies and departments was a made-in-Nigeria Peugeot. Shehu Shagari’s civilian administration came up with austerity measures, while the Buhari-Idiagbon government went for essential commodities, shunning non-essential ones. Ibrahim Babangida, as a military president, introduced its Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP) and threw the issue of IMF loan open for public debate even as a military government. In that debate, Nigerians rejected the loan but adopted the SAP.
On a Candid Note, the burden we place upon ourselves in the name of ceremonies ought to be lightened for us to meaningfully manage our means in these excruciating hard times.
Dr. Odu can be reached through [email protected] or SMS 07016722929.
