I want to talk about why I don’t like African burials, particularly Christian burials.
I met a lady on a flight. She was quite successful and owned an institution. We started discussing, and I found out she was doing very well. She asked me about my parents, and I told her I don’t have parents, I don’t have a brother, I don’t have a sister—I am alone. She said she was fortunate that her father lived in the same city as she did, and it was a mega city.
I asked her, “When last did you see your father?” She said she had not seen him for up to a year, despite living in the same city.
She later invited me to speak at her institution. I was impressed with what she was doing, and I made a pledge to support the institution with ₦250,000 annually. After some months, she called me to say her father had died. He was a retired customs officer. She needed money, but she knew my stance on burials, so she was reluctant to ask. I told her clearly: the pledge I made was not for her father’s burial. It was for the development of her institution. I would not pay until after the burial.
She told me she spent close to ₦20 million on the burial.
There are some questions I want to ask.
Did she ever send ₦2 million annually to her father for the past 10 years to take care of himself? Most likely, no.
How many times did she visit him in those 10 years? How much quality time did she spend with him? Most likely, very little.
I keep telling myself and my wife: now that your parents are alive, spend quality time with them. Visit them regularly. Call them regularly. Do video calls. Send videos of the grandchildren. When I see videos of my grandchildren, I get excited.
When last did you call your father? When last did you call your mother?
Many of you call your mothers but ignore your fathers. That is wickedness.
I know a man whose children would bring bread and hide money inside it for their mother, while giving the father very little. One day, the mother was not around. The father opened the bread, saw the money, took it, ate the bread, and left ordinary bread for the mother. That shows how some of you treat your fathers.
What kind of house did your father live in before he died? I see a common pattern: a father lives in a damp, dark, dilapidated house. When he dies, the children renovate it, paint it, and beautify it. Why didn’t you do that when he was alive?
Some even build expensive tombs with marble, while the man lived in poor conditions.
Men, plan for yourself. Enjoy your life while you are alive.
I am not extravagant. I live a simple life. But the little things, I enjoy them. Even if I eat one meal a day, I enjoy it. I travel, I stay in good hotels when necessary, and I live well.
If you wait for your children to take care of you, you may live a miserable life. Then they will come after your death, take pictures, wear fine clothes, and celebrate.
In my wardrobe, I have clothes given to me as gifts. I wear them gradually. I had only two pairs of shoes when I was training children. Now people buy shoes for me—I wear them.
Take care of yourself while you are alive. Build businesses and systems that will sustain you.
How many people who travelled for a funeral ever visited that person while he was alive? How many sent gifts to him? How many formed relationships beyond burial ceremonies?
Burials in Nigeria and many parts of Africa, apart from some groups, have become very hypocritical, wasteful, and a morbid display of shallow wealth.
