We were still basking in the glee of the past weekend. Everyone couldn’t stop talking about the burial. It left the high and low stunned. If grandeur was measured in traffic, the burial would be Lagos.
That is the type of event that if you missed, you would struggle to forgive yourself. The business men made contacts, the poor ate what they didn’t know existed previously. The family house was renovated. The road to the house was tarred and power supply was steady in the neighbourhood while it lasted. Talk about PHCN catching the fever.
Someone asked who is this person being buried? I said she was a poor widow who lived in penury till she died. Two of her kids lived abroad while the other two worked in Oil servicing firms. They forgot her and made her mates laugh at her at the Nmu Ada meetings. She was always late in paying her monthly dues and she regularly collected loans which she had difficulty repaying. |The meeting members forgave her. They understood her plight.
You would think it was a royal occasion when you see the delegates who arrived at the local airport. Her sons, daughter-in-laws, grand kids and long forgotten relatives had made the trans-atlantic trip. They landed in Lagos few hours before noon and quickly boarded the only daily flight to the state.
Caterers and vendors tried to outdo themselves with familiar and foreign cuisines. Expensive wines were available on end. The rave of the moment artistes counted it a privilege to be invited to perform. For them, it wasn’t about the remuneration, it was a validation of your art.
I was still reminiscing about the event when someone brought my attention to the fact that top media firms were represented at the burial. Fingers crossed, in a few weeks, she would grace the cover of a magazine that was the exclusive read of the upper class in society.
The luxury she was denied on earth, she got at death. Truly, like they say, it is better late than never…
Don’t you think?