Eighty-one-year-old
retired matron, Mrs. Florence Fashola, has done something many senior
citizens will dare not do. In preparation for her death, she has dug her
grave and sewn a shroud. She tells KUNLE FALAYI reasons for taking this
step in this interview
Do you think many people are dying young these days than in the old days?
Yes of course. The problem is that young
people are no longer doing what we did in those days. They no longer
live the way we lived and eat the way we ate. For example, our parents
never ate pepper milled with machines. They never put seasonings in
their soup. They ate fresh fruits and fresh meat and fish. My mother
never did before she died. She would not eat any soup if the ingredients
were not milled on a stone. People eat too many packaged things
nowadays. The luxury in which people live nowadays contributes to early
death. But that does not mean I am not prepared for death. I have been
ready since I clocked 70.
But many old people are afraid of death. Why are you not?
When I was 70 years old, I had a meeting
with my children and told them I was expecting death anytime from then
because even the Bible says nobody knows the time or day death will
come. I have been blessed by God; I have children who have children of
their own. I am not afraid of where I am going. So, why would I be
afraid of death? To show I was really prepared, I held a meeting with my
children and told them of my decision to find a tailor to sew me a
shroud I would be interred in and dug my own grave in my yard. When the
shroud was sewn; I put it on and took photographs with it.
You did that? Not many people have the heart to do that.
That is because they are afraid of
death. And they are afraid of death because they don’t know where they
would be going when they die. I also do not believe in superstitions.
Because I did those things does not mean I will die in the next 20
years. Since I was baptised in 1956, I have served God diligently and
can say that I have never done anything to hurt someone. The way I have
lived my life, I cannot be afraid of death.
Your children must have kicked against the idea of the grave and shroud…
Yes of course. When I informed them,
they even threatened to get the tailor who would sew the shroud
arrested. But I already made my decision. If I pass away today, all they
would need to do is buy a coffin.
Was the decision made just because you were not afraid of death?
Well, not totally. There was this couple
who were my friends. Before the husband died, he had given the
instruction that he wanted to be buried in his house in Lagos and had
even prepared his wife’s grave beside his. But seven years after he
died, his wife died as well. The children exhumed the man’s body and
took it along with the wife’s to Owo, his hometown. I did not like that
idea at all. When I got back from the burial, I immediately held a
meeting with my children and told them of my decision to prepare my
place of burial ahead of time. I moved to my house in 1977 and retired
as a matron in 1978. I was once told that this house would be my
‘Goshen’. Things have happened around me in this area since then that
have shown that God has given me tremendous grace. So, why should I not
want to be buried here?
You seem to remember dates so easily; do you keep written records like some elderly people do?
It is simply God’s grace. I can remember
the dates of every major event that has happened since my father died
in the 1940s. I know that having the ability to remember dates is a
special grace God has given me. Some old people in my age group cannot
even remember what happened yesterday.
Can you remember any other instance
where children exhumed their parents’ bodies to be buried somewhere else
or buried them where they did not want?
None other than the one I have told you
readily comes to mind. But I have heard of such things. It is not a good
thing on the part of the children of such people at all. I don’t know
why some children cannot respect the wishes of their parents even when
they are dead.
But what if your children do the same?
My children? They dare not. Every year
end and every September during my birthday celebrations, I repeat my
demands to them. I ring it in their ears so that they would not disobey
me when I am dead. I have found where I want to be buried. I have
prepared the place. All I ask of them is to respect that and let me be
laid to rest there.
And what if none of your children lives in this house after you are buried?
Does a dead person know what goes on in
his or her house? I care less about that. I cannot force my children to
live in this particular house where I will be buried. They have all got
to high places in life and are free to live their lives the way they
want. When I am gone, I am gone. All I want is to be buried here. My
request is not that they must come and live in this house, only that
they should bury me here. Will they now exhume my body after I am buried
or take my body after I am dead to Owode? That will not happen because
that will show they do not respect my wishes.
You said a lot of things have
happened around you that have shown this place is your ‘Goshen,’can you
tell us some of those things?
There is a house on this street, the
landlord committed suicide by hanging. There are some of my neighbours,
who are barely 70 years old but have become senile. The house across me
over there, many different people from different tribes have lived there
and the house has seen many deaths. I am not thanking God for their
woes. God knows I was genuinely sympathetic when those things were
happening. I see this house as my Goshen as I was told because apart
from my mother who died, this house has never seen death. None of my
tenants has experienced any bad incident. So, I know God planted my root
here as a place of grace for me.
Did you buy your parents’ coffins or prepared their graves in advance?
Let me first explain how my mother died.
My mother had 14 children but only five survived her. She fell ill on
January 11, 1976 and I thought she was about to die. I had to go and buy
a coffin and a shroud and prepared where she was to be buried even
though we had not actually dug the grave. But five days later, she was
up and about. She requested for fresh fish, which we prepared and she
ate. She said God had healed her. So we had her coffin before she died.
In May of the following year, my mother told me she needed to ‘go home’.
But I said no way, you have to carry your grandchild before you go
anywhere. She then said she would wait a little longer but that she was
already seeing her dead relations.
The morning my first child gave birth,
she named the child. She said whatever other name the child was given,
the name she had given the baby must come first. She suddenly went quiet
but we revived her. She then prayed for everyone. She died a couple of
days later. But my father’s coffin or grave was not prepared ahead. My
father died in August 1948 at the age of 73. I was 15 at the time.
Credit:Punch
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