When burial becomes a place for lustful eyes than tearful eyes and runny noses, the mind wallows in lustful thinking than in mournful moments
The pain and agony of bereavement is one that lasts not forever for some. For others, very briefly, and thereafter life goes on even at the very scene of the burial.
Recently, I watched a video clip of a young widow who was overly joyfully expressing in dance steps and admirable gesticulation at the burial ceremony of her deceased husband.
It would have been taken to mean a dance from sorrow into a new dawn of life reality if it was done in a pensive mood, all by herself. No, it was a dance performed with another man behind her, twisting his waist.
Years back, I had an experience that jolted me, leaving me with shock and bewilderment. He died in a most gory circumstances. Crushed by a trailer in his bid to cross while going to work in the early hours of that day.
Laid in his pool of blood for hours. When help eventually came, he breathed his last on their way to the hospital. A member of my parish whose activities in the church were laced with dedication and commitment.
He belonged to many associations both in the church and in the society. His vibrancy in those places was never in doubt, his presence at their meetings felt and his absence noticed. He comes with an energy that was strong and infectious, lifting the mood of everyone with his unique boisterous laughter.
Give him any assignment to discharge, he does it with a precision that was no less military.
At his burial, everyone that he knew and had contact with showed up. WhatsApp groups were previously created to raise funds for the bereaved family especially the young wife with three tender teenage female kids.
The funeral went well, befitting if there is anything befitting about the burial of a husband, father, friend and loved one who died young in such a gory manner.
He was in his late thirties, got married at a very early age of 20 years, but his three female children in their teenage age had some physical features of those in their twenties. Well endowed, fine face and built.
After the burial, a new dawn of what life was began to unfold. The poor widow tried to pull herself by her shoe strings, resolved to respect the memories of the husband for at least one year before she could move on with her life , since she was still young, but life challenges wouldn’t allow her.
Three months into her mourning period their rent expired and the landlord promised to write off the rent if she would agree to date him.
Of course she said no to such overture which infuriated him and threatened to give her quit notice.
Such threat of course was like water off the ducks back. Her plan was to meet some of her late husband’s friends who after the burial told her to feel free to approach them incase she would need help. When she eventually reached out to them, the help she was envisaging from them came with a cost she could afford.
Her Three daughters were not spared. They wanted them if help must come from them. Then it dawned on her how fickle and enfantile human beings can be and how deceptive human friendship can be at some point.
She struggled to stay afloat, the more she tried the wave and life turbulence of bills to pay continue to hit her both sides. Every man she met for help including pastors wanted to get down with her.
Before her those men she became nothing but an object for their selfish desires. An image that douses their tension and gives them emotional relief. It was so devastating, her sense of value, worth and confidence began to tear apart.
Why are men this way she sobbed! Why are men this insensitive and driven by lustful tendencies?. Like a tree beaten severely by sharp machetes and a brick hit by the waves and flakes of water, she caved in and got pregnant 3 months after the demise of her husband.
You may blame her for not holding on. Equally blame her for caving in too cheap and soon. You equally may blame her for not standing firm to suffer than yield to the manipulations of men. She wore that shoe, only her knows how it pinched her.
Many ladies and widows can relate with this experience. How loose some men can be! How randy can an average man react to women in their vulnerability? How many young widow are being used as joy for men selfish emotional surge? How many have been forced by the importunation of men to get dirty even at the middle of their mourning period?
Widowhood has been a barge for invitation to life of reckless lifestyle just to make ends meet. In all these men’ trending escapade of using widows as their relief devices, there are many widows who are still firm in moral. Resilient in character and uncompromising in decency and morals. Nothing pushes them around. Even in their vulnerability, they maintain boundaries. To such widows, may God sustain you to remain steadfast.
To men whose stock in trade is to flash their ATM cards, make unrealistic promises to widows, raise their hopes and turn them into their emotion releasing machines, you can do better by being human, a joy to them without cashing on their vulnerable moments and taking advantage of them. Men would always be men, plying on their space of entitled promiscuity shouldn’t be weaponized as a tool for legitimizing illegitimacy. Men can be their angel without getting down with them.
Jarlathuche@gmail.com
