OGBONA & THE DEAD:
Unveiling the Cultural Heritage of Ogbona
By Dr. John Odior Anaweokhai
Introduction
In the rich cultural landscape of Ogbona, death is not merely an endpoint, but a sacred transition that weaves together the intricate tapestry of life, ancestry, and community. For the Ogbona people, the reverence accorded to the deceased is a testament to their profound respect for the cycle of life. This narrative explores the esteemed roles of Igbudu and Ikhagba, custodians of Ogbona’s funeral traditions, and delves into the cultural significance of their rituals, customs, and practices.
The Revered Igbudu and Ikhagba
Igbudu or Ikhagba were distinguished individuals in Ogbona, renowned for their exceptional bravery, confidence, and expertise in handling the deceased. Their services were highly sought after, and they commanded respect, inspiring awe in the community. Notable among them were:
Eramha Buchiali Otoaye
Odutola Ikhenape Okhuemhor
Alasa Anabor
Agbazuadu Aigbona
Inowa Enamhegbai
Aliu Inobemhe
Unopie
Ukor Ogedegbe
Igechi
Kilien
The Significance of Ancestral Lineage
In Ogbona, ancestral lineage played a vital role in shaping cultural practices and traditions. The concept of Olimhi, or respect for the dead, was deeply ingrained, with children divided between both families upon death. Women, in particular, held significant cultural significance, with their remains returned to their parent’s home for burial, unless they were Amhoyia.
Cultural Practices and Traditions
Igbudu or Ikhagba services were in high demand, responsible for performing funeral rites, from preparing corpses for burial to the actual burial. We thought they were superhuman beings from the land of the dead. Not necessarily because they were often seen with Ibana, but because of their bravery.
They were considered real men with the heart of a lion. Their demeanor displayed people in total control of their emotions, unruffled by the tears and agonies of the bereaved. They were the first to arrive at mourning places.
As children, the concept of death was scary, even to be discussed openly. It was a mystery to be discussed in hush tones and with utter reverence.
Death was a ferocious spirit, no respecter of anyone. The deceased were believed to have passed through Ivhiaru, a village near Afuze, on their way to the afterlife. Families would visit Ivhiaru to bid farewell. The dead were also said to reincarnate.
Igbudu, allies to native doctors, were rumored to have the power to:
1. Wake the dead to unravel the circumstances surrounding their demise.
2. Invoke spirits.
Ikhagba could allegedly cage wandering spirits by exhuming corpses and severing heads from bodies at midnight.
Stories of wandering spirits, often those whose death was unnatural or unclean, were rampant. Ughieda was said to be their midnight congregation point, where they’d disturb and avenge their murderers.
Dead witches and wizards were believed to restlessly haunt until their heads were separated from their bodies.
Igbudu administered oaths of innocence to spouses suspected in their partner’s death, using water from the corpse’s washing.
When an Oboh title initiate died on EVHIA day, Igbudu would preserve the body using local gin (Kai Kai) until the next day.
Their most prominent activity occurred between the lying-in-state and burial ground:
1. Bereaved children would drop money on the casket.
2. Burning issues were settled.
3. Unpaid fines or vows were redeemed.
The casket was carried by IkHAGBAI to Okotor the cemetery, with minimal ceremonies.
A mat (EGBHAI) was essential for burial, covering the grave’s base before lowering the coffin.
My experience assisting in a burial, alongside Jude Anaweokhai, left an indelible, albeit uncomfortable, memory.
Ikhagba services were well-known, respected, and feared, enjoying similar social status to native doctors.
I vividly recall the unsettling experience of assuming the role of an Igbudu, alongside my cousin Jude Anaweokhai. We were tasked with burying my aunt, Uwomha Mary Anyiador granddaughter, whose corpse was brought to our family for burial.
The memory still lingers, filled with discomfort. We transported the corpse, covered with leaves on a wooden plank, to the back of the Asekomhe compound, en route to our plantation farm. However, digging the grave in the hard, dry soil proved challenging. Lowering the corpse into the three-foot-deep grave with our bare hands was equally daunting.
Despite the difficulties, we completed the burial, marking my first and last experience in this capacity.
This encounter transformed my perception of Ikhagba, who were renowned for their expertise. They were revered, respected, and feared, enjoying a status comparable to native doctors. Their services were sought after, and they were welcome everywhere.
My youthful apprehension gave way to appreciation after walking in their shoes, albeit briefly.