Dignity even in death

There was a time when death commanded silence and deep reverence. The loss was spoken of in hushed tones. Mourners huddled together in long stretches of silence occasionally pierced by a sudden cry and then returning to stillness. There was comfort in that silence.

 In death, the living stepped back and allowed grief to take its rightful place. In many African societies, death was understood not as an end but as a transition, a crossing of two worlds, a connection between the living and the spirit. And because no one could fully comprehend what lay beyond, everyone approached this moment with care not just to appease the gods but to honour the departed.

 Among my people, grief was fully lived.  There was proper wailing, bulls were slaughtered, dirges sung, vigils observed and stories shared to keep the departed present among the living. Yet even then, there were limits. Care was taken not to offend the dead or burden the living. This space belonged to grief alone.

 Across cultures, death demanded order, reverence. Conflicts were put on hold. Personal differences were set aside as neighbours opened their homes to mourners. To misbehave in this period wasn’t just a social misstep but a great violation that required spiritual intervention.

 Today, we can only speak of those days in the past.

 What were once sacred transitions have morphed into social events, occasions for road trips and reunions disguised as mourning. And while these have been jarring, what is truly appalling is how funerals, once intimate spaces of grief, have been turned into political arenas. The podium is no longer for eulogies and sermons; it is now a stage for campaigns and confrontation.

 It is now common to see politicians arrive at funerals flanked by entourages carefully staged for effect.

 Even more troubling is the growing trend of planting of hired groups within the crowd to cheer them and heckle opponents. What should be a solemn farewell is reduced to a contest of popularity.

 Just this past weekend, a politician was reportedly forced out of a funeral service not because he dishonoured the dead, but because he had fallen out politically with a faction that was present.

 Watching the drama unfold, it was clear that the planners of the disruption had little regard for the deceased or the grieving family. They had not come to mourn but settle scores. Few things are more dishonourable. Unfortunately, this is not isolated case.

 At the heart of every funeral is a family in pain. A mother who has lost their child, a spouse thrust into widowhood, children facing a future without a parent, siblings grappling with loss, friends and colleagues, all trying to make sense of their loss. You do not subject such people to chaos and disrespect.

 We fail when we attend funerals of people we barely knew and insist to be seen and heard, only to turn the moment into a platform for campaigns and unnecessary display of power.

 The very basic expression of our humanness is empathy. Our presence, our contributions to grieving families, mean nothing if we treat them as license to disrespect their loved one’s final ceremony. No moment should command deeper reflection and humility more than a funeral.

 If we must attend, then out titles must be left behind and our power dimmed in the wake of a simple yet sobering reality that someone who was alive just a few days ago now lies still and in our midst are lives that have been irrevocably altered.

 At the funeral of Rev. Jesse Jackson, his son expressed disappointment that some speakers failed to focus on his life and legacy in their speeches. When he started his own remarks with “I want to speak about my Daddy,” he reminded everyone why they had gathered in the first place.

 There are countless platforms for politics: rallies, parliamentary debates, media engagements. Funerals should not be one of them.

 Leaders, as members of the community, are welcome to mourn with their people. But even in doing so, dignity must be preserved. For the departed and those left behind.

 The writer is a development communication consultant.