The Nigerian family that spent five decades as volunteer gravediggers

The Nigerian family that spent five decades as volunteer gravediggers

Mansoor Abubakar

BBC News, Kaduna

Ifiokabasi Etang/BBC Magaji Abdullahi (c) rests his hands on the handle of a hoe as he stands between his two cousins, Aliyu (left) and Abdullahi (right), at the Tudun Wada cemetery in Nigeria's Kaduna state.Ifiokabasi Etang/BBC

For more than 50 years, a family has dedicated itself to the care of the largest cemetery in Nigeria’s northern city of Kaduna – thanks to the gratitude of other residents who don’t relish the job of dealing with the dead.

Until a few weeks ago, they did this work without any formal pay – digging graves, washing corpses and tending the vast cemetery, receiving only small donations from mourners for their labour.

The vast Tudun Wada cemetery was set aside by the authorities for the city’s Muslim residents a century ago.

The Abdullahi family became involved in the 1970s when two brothers – Ibrahim and Adamu – started working there.

Both siblings now lie under the soil in the cemetery, and their sons have become the chief custodians of the cemetery.

When Magaji, Ibrahim Abdullahi’s eldest son, was asked why he chose to remain in office, he told the BBC, “His teaching to us, his children, was that God loves service and rewards us for it. We will do it, even if we don’t get any worldly benefit.” Unpaid undertaker.

The 58-year-old man is now in charge of the Tudun Wada – pastoral operations and 18 members of staff or until recently – volunteers.

He and his two younger cousins ​​– Abdullahi, 50, and Aliyu, 40, (son of Adamu Abdullahi) – are three full-time employees, reporting by 07:00 for 12-hour shifts, seven days a week.

They are always required to be on call, because according to Muslim customs, a burial must be conducted within a few hours of someone’s death.

Ifiokabasi Etang/BBC A man digs a grave while two others look on at the Tudun Wada cemetery in Kaduna state, NigeriaIfiokabasi Etang/BBC

Digging a grave can take at least an hour – and is done according to precise measurements sent by the morticians

Magaji receives a call on his mobile directly from a relative or an imam – all the religious clerics in the city have his number.

“A lot of people have our numbers and as soon as someone dies, we get a call and we get to work right away,” he says.

One of the three takes care of the corpse, which may include washing it and wrapping it in a shroud.

The body is measured and those details are sent back to others so that the grave can be dug.

This can take about an hour – two people taking turns digging up to 6 feet (1.8 m) into the ground – sometimes longer if it is in a rocky area of ​​the cemetery.

They can dig about a dozen graves a day – hard work in the heat of Kaduna.

“Today alone we have dug eight graves and it’s not even noon yet, some days are like this,” says Abdullahi, who started working at the cemetery at the age of 20.

The Cousins ​​have experienced very stressful times – especially during times of religious violence when tensions rose between the town’s Christian and Muslim residents. Both communities live on opposite banks of the Kaduna River.

Ifeokbasi Etang/BBC Male Muslim mourners raise their hands in prayer as they attend a funeral at Tudun Wada cemetery. Ifiokabasi Etang/BBC

Funerals usually take place on the same day as a person’s death – and on most days there are about a dozen funerals at Tudun Wada

“We have had some religious clashes in Kaduna, but the one that is most impactful to me was in the early 1990s. A lot of people were killed in that,” says Magaji.

“We were going around collecting dead bodies and getting them off the streets.”

Muslims were moved to Tudun Wada in the north of the city and Christians to cemeteries in the southern suburbs.

“Personally, it was a very upsetting time and I had not been on the job for very long, but it helped strengthen my resolve to keep going,” he says.

Typically, when the team digs a grave, the imam at the local mosque announces during one of the five daily prayers that cremation will take place.

Many worshipers then go to where the body has been prepared for prayers – it is then taken to the cemetery for burial, which is often crowded with mourners.

Once near the grave, the shroud-wrapped body is lowered – covering it with a layer of sticks and broken pottery as a mark of respect. The grave is then filled to form a slightly raised bed.

After the rituals are completed and before the mourners leave, the cemetery’s caretakers appeal for donations.

This is usually done by the cemetery’s oldest worker, Inuwa Mohammed, 72, who explains the importance of the Abdullahi family to the community.

He worked with the cousins’ father: “They were wonderful people who loved their work and instilled this altruistic behavior in their children.”

The little money collected can sometimes buy lunch for the crew – but it is never enough for anything else. To survive, the family also has a small farm where they grow food.

Graves are recycled after 40 years, meaning land is not a big issue – but maintenance is.

“There is a lot that is lacking at the moment – ​​we don’t have enough equipment to do the job, or good security,” says Aliyu, the youngest of the cousins ​​who has worked there for 10 years.

He explains how a section of the wall has collapsed, allowing hunters looking for scrap metal to steal grave markers.

Metal plates on some graves bear names and dates of birth and death – although many do not because Islamic clerics do not encourage ostentation. Most are lined only with stones and bricks or sticks.

Somehow, cousins ​​remember the location of everyone buried in the cemetery and can direct people if they have forgotten the location of a relative’s grave.

Ifiokabasi Etang/BBC A grave – a raised bed – surrounded by stones and green vegetation at the Tudun Wada cemetery. The grave is topped by a white marker with a handwritten inscription containing the name of the person who died.Ifiokabasi Etang/BBC

Graves are sometimes marked and kept for 40 years.

Following a recent BBC visit to the cemetery, they noticed a dramatic change in fortunes.

The new local council chairman, whose office oversees the site, has decided to keep him on the payroll.

“They deserve it, given the massive amount of work they do every day,” Ryan Hussain tells the BBC.

“The graves are the final home for all of us and the people who do such hard work deserve to be paid, so as long as I am president, my office will pay them.”

Magaji has confirmed that employees have started receiving monthly salaries for the first time:

  • The five oldest, including him, are getting 43,000 naira ($28; £22.50)
  • Others, including Abdullahi and Aliyu, are receiving 20,000 naira ($13; £10.50).
Ifiokabasi Etang/BBC Two cemetery workers sit under a tree eating at lunchtime – a motorcycle can be seen behind themIfiokabasi Etang/BBC

The small wages now being allotted to Tudun Wada workers are much lower than the national minimum wage

This is well below the national minimum wage of $45 a month, but Mr Hussain says he hopes to increase his allowance “over time”.

He says it is regrettable that the cemetery was abandoned for years by previous local council chiefs.

The chairman said they plan to repair parts of the fence, install solar lights and increase security.

“I am also building a room in the cemetery where corpses can be washed and prepared for burial, before now this all had to be done from home.”

For the Abdullahi family, it’s all a welcome investment – ​​and Magaji hopes it will ensure that one of their 23 children will one day become custodians of the cemetery.

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