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When the Coffin Maker Dies By Remi Medupin, Ph.D.
Just a couple of days ago, there was a friendly debate on the Coffin Making Craft and its practitioners and especially their attitude to death. The initial instigation of the debate was a casual remark by a friend concerning his experience at sourcing a befitting coffin for his late father whom we committed to mother earth some two months earlier. The meat of the report aroused varying tastes because it composed of assorted parts with unique colourations representing distinct potential lessons of life. The first part of the story was indeed like an introduction to the subsequent main subject and it was provided by another friend in attendance. His own bit of the story was about a Muslim relation who shares office boundary with a coffin maker-the duo evidently not of the same religious faith. We were told that the Muslim neighbour observed over time that his Coffin Maker co-tenant was of the habit of praying fervently every morning on arrival at his duty post-and nobody needs to strain to guess right that the core content of such prayer would be customer patronage, new or old. Along the line, perhaps due to incomprehension and/or sheer religious prejudice, the Moslem trader thought it psychologically useful to erect a mat wall between the two business areas to shut out especially the prayer sessions of his neighbour from view. The debate literally took roots at this point but for the fact that one of us asked innocently whether the coffin maker was a young or old person. And this was precisely when our man who buried his father not long before the informal seminar, took over to tell the story that informed this piece, although as we will see shortly, even the preamble on the boundary creation hinted above inevitably fits into the whole jig saw and the essence of today’s appearance effort on this page.
As already mentioned, the issue of the age bracket of the coffin maker had elicited general interest in the issue of coffin makers and their attitude to death. But then, we were asked to wait for more information beyond the immediate clarification that the coffin maker in question is advanced in age. We learnt that just a few metres from his shop are a group of relatively young persons in the same coffin making trade. As if in anticipation of the debate that would take place that evening, in the course of shopping for a coffin for dad, our friend had asked the young coffin makers how they are able to reconcile their trade with a desire for long life. Well, simple answer: we are doing this business to survive; when death comes, we go! Pardon me, I omitted a line. The real initial opening of the debate on coffin making and all that was the sobering report on how a prominent coffin maker in town took professional pride in a particular coffin he had just made because it was indeed an architectural master piece to behold. The craftsman actually invested part of his immediate future into the product with the declared hope that he would use the proceeds of the coffin sale to enjoy the approaching Christmas. It was precisely at this point that master fate brought out its own joker. Just about that period, the man’s wife went into child birth labour and as it happened, lost her life in the process. It was the very coffin which sale was planned for Christmas celebration in which the spouse was buried! By the way, this story is not made up by me; it is a life experience reported by a very reliable and credible person, who knows the dramatis personae closely. So, the point for emphasis, as if needed, is the unpredictability of the death phenomenon. It is not by age or even the severity of illness that determines the order of departure from this earth: there is just no order of any known and abiding logic; full stop. Thus, I may die before completing this write up; however, the fact that you are reading it now is proof of that not having happened. And you, dear reader, may slump now –just to cite one of several sudden ways one may go- and not complete the reading-and please do not get frightened, but evidently that has not happened. We thank the Almighty.
We all attend funeral sessions at various religious fora and typically the message is essentially a reminder of the inevitability and unpredictability of death. Of course, these messages are emphasised basically to urge the faithful along the path of good conduct while still living. It is also pertinent to point to the fact that all these religions harp on pious conduct for two interrelated reasons: one is the belief in life after death; and two, judgement thereafter to be based on life conduct. With my experience on earth so far, I often wonder the basis for religious acrimony: why not let everybody go his/her way according to the level of personal understanding even as we pray for those not sharing our religious beliefs to have a change through understanding before death comes-on the assumption that we ourselves have the only correct version of the truth about the Creator, Life and Death! In spite of my current insertion into a particular modern religion, I am not ashamed to associate with a basic tenet of the traditional religion of my people. In those days of my growing up in the village, on the death of a compatriot, one of the standard and lesson -teaching burial -songs goes in the refrain of urging the living to hurry to do good because whatever good deed you perform would not go unrewarded. They did not need to bother extending the song to discourage evil doing: the message is unambiguous. Now winding back to the Muslim neighbour to the coffin maker at the early part of this piece, it is safe to assume that one of the perhaps several reasons for his action may derive from the way his faith members treat the dead. For the Muslim, ceremonies are not essential after death; indeed, you are not encouraged to faint for a prolonged length of time-otherwise you will find yourself alone six feet under the ground. This may sound like an expensive joke, but for the fact that I am not joking. That, in itself is a lesson because, come to think of it, what does the dead know anymore? This is why, when I see paid expensive memorial adverts, I ask-for whose consumption is this, the living or the dead? Surprisingly, now, I have an answer.
When you scratch deep enough, you find that human beings are essentially very fragile psychological creatures. Because of the fragility masked in multiple appearances of brave conduct, we attempt to hide our sorrow at the loss of a dear brother, wife, friend, and parent, name it by doing things as if the departed is still with us. What this writer is doing here indeed obeys the same logic but interestingly, the urge to go ahead remains strangely powerful, almost possessive. Let me explain. A gentleman, known as Taiye Ipinnaiye Baba –Egbe was until not long ago an active member of my clan back home. He was well known in the community as a Coffin Maker. We were affiliated with the same political party and in the same Ward. As usual in Nigerian politics characterised by unnecessary and oftentimes inexplicable internal conflicts and frictions, the party at Ward level operated in factions; Brother Taiye and I were in the same faction. More than this, he took special interest in me and sought boldly to propagate my cause as an aspirant into elective political office. He was indeed clearly one of the most militant of my supporters. What I found particularly instructive about his support was his contempt for double dealers who pretend to be political loyalists when indeed they are otherwise; such negative variety of political jobbers are now literally on rampage across the land, behaving like vultures, ready to convert the political candidates into money and pocket it hurriedly with scant appreciation. Their loyalty is like that of Judas to Jesus, to borrow from the Bible. There is still an additional reason to recall the departed Coffin Maker with nostalgia: his two siblings-both of whom are of no mean standing within the community also like me even as they are very senior in rank to me, in virtually every aspect of human relevance. I send my condolences to them. This piece was written to “preach” the commonality of faiths in general and to put on record my appreciation of a senior brother who readily gave support to my political ambition based perhaps on the realisation that, as they say, “the devil you know is better than the angel you don’t know”! Talking about the angel and the devil, I often wonder: is it not the case that these cosmic analogies have defined attributes and like good versus bad-wherever they occur, remain as such? If so, then, I wonder why, even if I do not know a particular angel, does it not remain an angel and should therefore be preferred to the devil any day? I wish I knew your take on this matter. Happily, Brother Taiye was more of an angelic personification than the negative counterpart and I knew him well-so, I believe but still add prayers that his great soul rests in perfect peace. Amen. |