26 February 2007

Saying Goodbye to the Dead in Batibo

Batibo is a sub-administrative unit in the North West province of Cameroon. It is mostly a rural environment situated at the boundary between the Savannah and the equatorial rain forest. The majority of the people that currently reside in this area are the Moghamo-speaking people. History tells us that many other people residing elsewhere in the North West province migrated from this area, hence there are many cultural similarities between the Moghamo people and the rest of the province's people.

The Moghamo people tend to be very sociable and they profit from their strong social bond to overcome many challenges by organizing themselves in groups to tackle problems that would otherwise be insurmountable to a single individual. This togetherness plays a very big role when the community loses somebody.

The wailing of women usually announces the passing away of somebody. Typically when this happens, everybody in the immediate vicinity suspends whatever he/she is doing and moves to the compound of the bereaved. Within minutes, a crowd soon forms in the compound and volunteers start doing everything from comforting the bereaved to arranging the compound to receive more sympathizers. Women usually move in with their mats and mattresses to be sleeping in the compound for a week or two to console a wife, a sister or the mother of the diseased. Female sympathizers bring along food while males bring jugs of raffia palm wine known as 'fitchuk'. These items are added to what is prepared in the compound to entertain visitors beginning from the day the death is announced, through burial to the final death celebration. The program can last from a few days to two weeks depending on the status of the person and size of the family. In the past it could take up to a month or more.

Since majority of the people of Batibo are Christians, funeral rites usually commence from the church with songs, sermons and testimonials. After church service the crowd accompanies the coffin for burial (that takes place usually behind the house of the diseased). In the past, some family heads were usually buried in graves dug inside the living room. The firing of ten guns by men usually follows after burial. Loud-sounding guns are appreciated.

Reception is organized for everybody that attended the burial and the Batibo people have become very sophisticated at hosting large crowds and ensuring that everybody is properly fed. Priority is usually given to people that come from afar. They are usually served with something akin to a buffet. Singing and dancing follows the reception. Different people spontaneously tune songs to the crowd while those that are competent at the drums, and other instruments handle them. The songs’ melody and rhythm and the vibration from the drums send a beautiful artistic message that is difficult to describe. To know it, you need to feel it.

A second phase of the ceremony called 'death celebration' usually follows the burial ceremony. It could be organized immediately after burial or put off for another period (even years down the road) because it involves substantial organization and commitment of funds. Close family members of the diseased such as the children, the in-laws, the brothers and sisters all participate in the planning and execution of this phase. Each individual that is supposed to organize a celebration is allocated a day from a string of successive days chosen for the occasion. There are minimum financial requirements to be fulfilled by those involved. For example, you could be required to produce two big pigs, some palm oil, a bag or two of salt and other things. You may next be required to hire a traditional dance group and masquerades for the entertainment of mourners. The items you have supplied will be used to feed people but you may have to make additional provision in case there is a large turnout on your own day of the celebration. In all these arrangements, you will get material support from other people—a support that is usually proportional to your past participation in assisting others overcome similar problems.

The organization of the 'death celebration' is an obligation. If you were to die when you had a pending celebration to carry out, that responsibility will be transferred to your successor. A 'death celebration' is judged to be successful if the turn out of invitees is impressive and everybody present eats and drinks well.

People generally agree that the most positive aspect of the Batibo people’s way of handling the dead has to do with psychological healing of the bereaved. The permanent presence of many people for weeks around the bereaved tends to fill the vacuum created by the departure of the loved one. "I felt the real impact of my husband's departure only after all the mourners had dispersed", said a woman who recently lost her husband in an accident.

Njei Moses Timah is a pharmacist in his country of Cameroon and a citizen journalist writing for OhMyNews and other publications. I appreciate the time he took to write this article for Road|Productions and look forward to future collaboration with him. You can read more from Njei at http://www.njeitimah-outlook.com.

01 January 2007

Suppression, I Accept Not

by Bhuwan Thapaliya

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I came
into this world
not like the river
but like the drop of water
and will evaporate soon

Though,
I am only
a drop of water
in the majestic ocean
of nature

I yearn
to create
a vigorous ripple
of freedom,
in the eternity of the water

For, I am the man,
of eternal freedom
and suppression
I accept not
I will accept not

The living God
within me, urges
me to be free, and
march on the road
of freedom sans any dread

My heart
like Einstein
thinks in another dimension
unknown and unknowable
even to my mind

And like Goethe
looks at things
in a different manner
different than those thinkers
bestowed with pristine minds

Freedom
the gift of God
is the inherent right
of every individual
in this compressed world

I will fight
till the end
to free the masses
from the grip of suppression
and ignite the lamp of freedom

I will free the masses
or die in the attempt
but I will never
live to see
the naked dance of repression

I am not afraid
of those suppressors
nor I am afraid of the death
that they are planning for me
they can kill me but not freedom forever

My blood boils,
Whenever, I see the strong ones
pulverizing the lean,
and my heart cries,
whenever I see the starving pauper
in the abattoir of the prosperous butcher

For me
a red rose is a red rose
it is not white
just because they call it white
to disguise the ignorant folks

They can
conquer the Everest
but not my spirit
they can stagnate the river
but not my impetus

They can
take my
sight away
but not
my vision of freedom

They can
cut my
tongue into pieces
but not
my voice of freedom

They can
stab me, with the
dagger of despotism
but not impede
the blood of freedom

I know
the road to freedom
is blocked with obstacles
but obstacles causes no despair
if they are encountered with hope

We must act now
and merely
not just look on,
when our freedom
is threatened from within

Because,
it is better
to perish without freedom
than to have a yearn for freedom
but not the valor to harvest it

Don’t be a coward.

Be prepared to receive
bullets on your chest
because, in the struggle
of freedom, tolerance
of suppression is offense

Stand up, stand up

Gather your courage
Come out in the field
let’s march hand in hand together
Right beneath the nose of the suppressors
for the emancipation of our freedom

Let us not forget that.

The ocean is composed of drops
of water, and all drops possess
equal potentials, but only, when
they mix with other drops
they form a powerful bond

So…

Listen, my oppressed brothers
listen, my trodden sisters
listen, listen
to the natural desire
of your ceaseless soul

do not fear
trust your soul
and march ahead
with a resolute heart
for the better tomorrow

And scatter
the seeds of freedom,
where does it go?
it does not matter
scatter it more with hope

Welcome the freedom
welcome it today
and enjoy it evermore
but do not use your freedom
to suppress the peoples soul
to suppress the peoples soul

Read more about the conditions in Nepal and the inspiration for this poem.

Bhuwan Thapalyia

Transitions in Nepal

The past several years have been a time of turmoil and sweeping change in the mountainous kingdom of Nepal. Never in Nepal’s history have the Nepalese people suffered than in these last few years from all fronts – autocratic King, Maoist rebels, corrupt leaders, lackluster political parties, ever soaring unemployment and inflation. Things have changed in Nepal recently but the barrage shows no sing of letting up and the future of Nepal is asuncertain as it was then.

Something is still lacking in Nepal, and that missing factor is the political consensus amongst the Seven Political Parties and the Maoists. Sadly, this has given the non-democratic forces an arena to regain their recently lost glories, slowly but steadily. But in the midst of this all, let us pray for the lasting peace and stability in Nepal as ordinary Nepalese are finding it difficult to live in the nation trodden by the brutalities of the suppression and violence.

Now, let me come back to the point and share with you all, the circumstances that motivated me to write the poem, “Suppression, I accept not.”

Wherever I went, I was sensing suppression, whatever I read, I was sensing suppression, whoever I met, I was feeling suppression. King Gyanendra was busy bamboozling the people, and the anti-democratic forces were making
a mockery of the democracy by indulging in non-democratic political activities. Violence, killing, torture, and suppression were going on in all the 75 districts of Nepal, mostly from two forces – the soldiers of King Gyanendra and the militias of the Maoists. Trapped in between were the common people and the democratic political parties of Nepal. And I was very restless given the fact that we were losing our basic human rights and freedoms.

It has often occurred to me that a poet after witnessing suppression in all socio-economic frontiers of Nepal has no right to be silent. I knew then that I wouldn’t be able to change the condition of Nepal via my poetry but yet I realized that it was much better than doing nothing. I know the wonderful efficacy of poetry, and the voice it gives to the voiceless, and the hope it gives to the hopeless.

Experience had taught me that poetry is a part of the spiritual disciple of a votary of truth; so on Friday, January 2nd, 2004, I woke up from my slumber and spilled my heart out in a piece of paper as for me democracy is the best form of government, and no matter how hard they preach against democracy, they wont be able to drift me from the democratic path.

I sat on my verandah, and stated spilling my heart out in my fight against the suppression. Here is the poem which I wrote two years ago, during the zenith of suppression in Nepal under the direct royal regime but unfortunately this poem of mine is as relevant in contemporary Nepal as it was then because the Maoists are not abiding by code of conduct and are continuing forceful extortions.

Notwithstanding the commitment of the party leadership not to collect forceful donations and break the ceasefire code of conduct signed by the government and the Maoists, Maoist rebels are collecting donations forcefully from various business houses and people, though the Maoist leadership have been refuting this claim.

But the reality is very different. The Maoist cadres have been threatening business houses and people to give donations and also warning of dire consequences if they failed to comply with their orders. The Maoists have also been continuing the acts of abduction and torturing people, but the party leadership has remained tight lipped in such issues.

Considering this status quo, Nepal it seems is out of the frying pan (Royal regime) into the fire (The Maoists). And my fight is yet on in Nepal to establish true democracy and freedom in Nepal because Suppression, I accept not and will accept not, no matter what happens to me in my pursuit to the lasting peace and stability in Nepal because I have already dedicated this life of mine to their freedom – on whose freedom my existence and the existence of this great nation, “Nepal”, depends.

guest author Bhuwan Thapaliya of Kathmandu, Nepal

Children in Nepal

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