Death is going home, if you did it right.
Aye, the world, and orun, the beyond, are two halves of one thing, and an old person with children who dies in their own house has completed a journey and joins the ancestors. Dying young, or childless, or violently, is a rupture — and is mourned rather than celebrated.
Aye and orun, world and beyond, are conceived as two halves of a single reality rather than as body and afterlife. A person who reaches old age, has children and grandchildren, and dies at home has completed a full circuit and is described as having gone home; the funeral is a celebration with drumming, dancing and considerable expense, and a second burial completes the transition into ancestorhood. The contrast case makes the point sharply: the death of a child, a young adult, or someone childless is a rupture — the funeral is quiet, the grief undisguised, and the tradition does not attempt to console with talk of a better place. Particularly disturbing is the abiku, the child born to die repeatedly to the same mother, for whom specific ritual measures and marking exist. The system is not indifferent to suffering; it distinguishes sharply between a death that completes something and one that breaks it.
The same ground, other faiths
claims that share this one's ideasSign in to open the first thread. Everything here is attributed.