Funeral for a Chief

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One of the neat things about living in various places and not just passing through is being able to observe and sometimes participate as the local people celebrate or commemorate the principal stages of the life cycle: birth, coming-of-age, marriage and death. In Japan I was privileged to attend a wedding of a fellow teacher, and although the Western influence on the dress and ceremony was strong, the Japanese setting created an atmosphere that hinted of ancient rites and customs, unique to their culture. Similarly, at a coming-of-age ceremony which celebrated entrance into adulthood at age twenty, I saw young men dressed in Western-style suits and women dressed in gorgeous kimono with an elaborate bow tied across the back. They were eager to leave the gymnasium and begin exercising the «rights» that adults enjoy the world over: drinking, gambling, and smoking.
Not all events in the life cycle are festive of course, but the tragic ones are equally important to the history of a people and to their current lives. The other day the chief of Ouelessebougou died after a short illness. He was 81, a long life in these parts. He had been chief for a mere 20 days before his passing, and thus the news came as a shock to many people. The chief here, like in most places in Africa, is a hereditary position. He who is the oldest living decendent of the founder of Ouelessebougou acceeds to it. Correspondingly, the chief is a figure of great respect and prestige through this town and the surrounding villages. His passing is mourned with great sorrow and ceremony.
There is no morgue in Ouelessebougou, but even if there were, the Islamic faith, like that of Judaism, decrees that the deceased be buried as soon as possible, preferably befdore sunset on the day of death. Today, the third day after the passing, there was a public ceremony so the people in the town and the surrounding villages could pay their final respects. All the dignitaries were there: the mayor, the judge, representatives from the various villages, many wearing their colorful flowing robes and kaftans in the hot July sun. Family of the deceased from as far away as Mopti, 10 hours away by bus, came to offer their thoughts and prayers, and at least several hundred people from the commune of Ouelessebougou took the day off from working to make an appearance as well. Normally, they would have been working today, a Saturday, as Friday is the day of rest in Islam.The elders and dignitaries received the choice locations out of the heat and comfortable chairs, the men sat in from of the dais and the women and children retreated behind the elders’ shelter, out of view, as is customary in Islam.
As the service was in Bambara, I relied on my friend to gain some insight into what was going on. The service was led by a griot, the voice of the community. In this society, important occasions are remembered and recalled orally, not with written documents. Thus the griot serves as the repository of the history of the village and aides the community on important occasions. He is in effect a living, breathing historical archive and thus an indispensable part of the community. Today, he was mainly the interpreter, repeating the whispered words of praise for the chief by the elders so all could hear and providing all with an account of Oudiouma Sake’s long and complete life. The sous-prefect, the local government official, old friends and family all gave testimony, and they spoke of how he had never done anyone any wrong, he was a person to be admired and trusted, and he was a valuable asset to the community. The chief was apparently destined to do great things but his time was cut short, and thus this is a sad day for the community. He only had twenty days to carry out G-d’s work, but he is now needed in heaven. The imam, the leader of the mosque, closed with a benediction. All observants opened their hands to symbolize hoped-for acceptance in the world to come and that he may be safely delivered into the hands of Allah.
That was not the end of the story, however, for the sacrifice was yet to come. I thought originally that they were going to slaughter a sheep or another animal to appease G-d and smooth the path of the chief into the afterlife. That, unfortunately was not the case, but it was still interesting. Everyone received kola nuts (with a bitter fruit inside you can chew and which my friend was trying to convince me they make Coca Cola from) from the family of the deceased. In order to satisfy the soul of the departed chief, it was necssary to make such a financial sacrifice. Kola nuts are apparently not cheap when you have to buy a thousand or so. The soul of the chief thus liberated, he is free to go to heaven while his family is at peace with his parting here on earth. To make sure this sacrifice is not a fluke, however, there will be two more, one on the seventh day after the passing and one on the fortieth when the mourning period draws to a close. In a week or two, the new chief, the current oldest living descendant of Ouelesse’s will assume the mantle and the responsibilities of the traditional leader(settling disputes, representing the town at important occasions…) and the griot will have another chapter to tell in his neverending story of the history of Ouelessebougou.

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