It seems rather ironic that social media popularised the acronym TMI while at the same time encouraging people to share the most intimate details of their lives. For instance, Facebook prompts you to share what you are thinking about. And this is what happens when you look at people’s timelines; from the most mundane activities such as planning to buy a broom to, are the children I am raising genetically mine, people share with abandon. This lack of discretion has steadily crept into our daily lives; people are quick to discuss anything with anybody willing to listen. This becomes rather disconcerting when mourners are called upon to eulogise their dearly departed.
Not only do they give a whole biography of themselves (which is unnecessary and irrelevant) but they seem to choose to zero down on the deceased’s most unfortunate attributes and mistakes. While it may not be wrong, I think it is distasteful to harp on a dead person’s faults when they are not around to defend themselves or make the necessary changes. Also, the African in me strongly believes that it is unacceptable to speak ill of the dead. Maybe to combat this dangerous habit, it should be decreed that those who willfully and publicly badmouth the dead should not be treated differently when their time comes.
Before we appoint ourselves judges over the dead, we should understand that most times life happens to us and there is very little we can do to change that. It is safe to assume that every individual wants to live a good life and they are doing whatever is possible in their means to achieve that. To an observer, their efforts might be lacking but to them, that is the most they can do.
Sometimes, people’s lives take a totally unexpected turn not because they do more than others but because circumstances connive to give them a break. What I am sure of is that even the people who get sidetracked by misfortune and live their lives in the most shocking circumstances also live behind something positive to be celebrated, if we look hard enough.
The challenge we face is that we have become desensitised to the struggles of life. The wealthy often assume that the poor remain in their circumstances due to laziness, while the poor might view the rich as enjoying ill-gotten gains. Each class seems to be waiting for a chance to gloat, and what better occasion than a funeral? In other words, funerals have regrettably become opportunities for people to vent frustrations, revel in others’ misfortunes, and settle old scores. It is a sad reflection of our times.
Recently, while waiting for a friend at a quaint, leafy restaurant, I found myself seated next to a group of young people. It soon became apparent that they were organising a friend’s funeral. Once they had their plans in place, they decided that someone should reach out to friends who might not yet be aware of the tragic news. The first call was made to a person named Alex.
When Alex fails to understand the Grace they are talking about, the call goes on to describe her. Don’t you remember the girl who split from Allan, dated Dan for some time then moved on to Peter his brother? I am taken aback at hearing a dead person described in such terms, especially in Uganda where people used to go to all lengths to turn every dead person into a saint of sorts. I hope the indiscretion is a one off but I am proved wrong by subsequent calls.
Another call is made to Richard, again announcing the death and describing even worse things the deceased did. I count at least 10 such calls before my friend comes and I advise her to sit inside even though it means giving up the cooling breeze from the lake. I could not bear to hear any more of Grace’s unfortunate life. I also wonder how the deceased will get past St Peter if all this is true.
As I ponder this, I send out one last prayer for the adventurous Grace and for once, I entertain the hope that the silent listener was busy somewhere else and was not listening to their nearest and dearest condemn her. But most importantly, I am shaken as I imagine what my life would sound like if my tribute on my final day focused on my shortcomings.
And so, I appeal to you dear reader, before choosing to go for the low-hanging fruit of the deceased’s shortcomings imagine how it would make you feel if places were reversed.
