In a recent article, Dr. Bitange Ndemo
referred to the splashy houses that many members of the Kenyan middle class are
putting up in their ancestral homes as “dead capital” because they are
difficult to sell or to present as collateral for bank loans. For this he has
received both praise and blame. One of the arguments that I have read against
Ndemo’s position is that if people do not put up such houses, their children
will be irrepairably ashamed in the event that they (the parents) die. Some
have even called such buildings “socio-cultural investments”, thus diverting
themselves and others from Dr. Ndemo’s focus on economics. Here I want to focus
on Luo funerals in earlier times, because the issue of “tradition” keeps on
popping up in the debate on the logic of putting up splashy homes in ancestral
lands.
Many now believe that traditional Luo
funerals are terribly expensive. The truth is that the current splashy Luo
funerals are very different from the traditional ones.
My grandmother, the late Posia Yiembe
Odera, who witnessed the aftermath of the so-called “First World War”, told me
the following regarding traditional Luo funerals:
1.
If a person died before sunset,
he/she was buried the same day. If he/she died after sunset, he/she was buried
the next day (there were no elaborate funeral preparations for days or even
weeks).
2.
A person was buried naked inside
his/her hut. This is why the Luo word for a widow is “chi liel” (“the wife of a
grave”) - she lived in the hut where her husband was buried. In-laws only came
to the funeral once they were sure the dead had been buried to ensure they did
not see him/her naked.
3.
There was no cooking in the
bereaved home before the burial: instead, neighbours brought “nyoyo” (“a
mixture of boiled maize and beans”) and other foods to feed those who had come
from far.
4.
The day after the burial, a
single cow was slaughtered and shared among the in-laws (the numerous cows
slaughtered in a single funeral these days were unheard of).
5.
All the above changed
drastically when Luo men, who had been conscripted for the “First World War”,
came back with loads of cash to show off. They went to the homes of in-laws who
had been bereaved while they were away in the war, and splashed their cash in
the name of “mourning in arrears”. Another elderly lady informed me that it was
also at that time that Luo men violently forced their own wives to smoke cigarettes
as a status symbol.
I will never forget a time when Raila
Odinga challenged the extravagance run-away spending in Luo funerals: that was
one of those rare occasions when they essentially shouted him down; and as an
astute politician, he retreated. It will take courage to challenge all this
unrealistic spending for the benefit of the many widows, widowers and children
whose resources are heartlessly squandered in the name of mourning the dead.
This desperately needed reform will come through those members of the Kenyan
middle class who undertake a critical evaluation of their impoverished and
impoverishing value system that leads them to spend money on luxury rather than
on investments - on status symbols rather than on ventures that truly raise
their status.
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