The Funeral of Navy Captain E.O.A. Makinde

THE FUNERAL OF NAVY CAPTAIN E.O.A. MAKINDE

Dawn lit out of the night darkness seamlessly. The night before had been the wakekeeping and some of us had literally done what had to be done: We kept ourselves awake singing and dancing to traditional Yoruba songs orchestrated by Yinka, the lead Naval musician. We swapped stories of his life as we drew from cigarrettes, swigged drink down our throats amd munched our chin-chin buscuits. Several times I broke away, cap in hand and stood in sadness, in bewilderment and regret as I observed his body in the airtight, glass coffin. There he lay, peaceful and resplendent in Naval ceremonial attire. No more worries, Father.

Yes dawn came eventually and I got myself prepared. A band of young men serenaded the body and filled air inside and outside the house with melodic brass and drum rhythms. How ironic that they sounded so like New Orleans funeral bands. Like Buddy Bolden or Louis Armstrong inventing jazz before your eyes. But this was a script older than Buddy or Louis ever knew, in Oyo and Dahomey they 'send' you to the afterworld with drumbeats and songs.

Then the Officers came. A Naval guard had spent the evening and night in vigil; and now they put his body into a dark, oak coffin and draped it with the Naval colours. On top were his ceremonial sword, cap and shoes.Slowly, they carried him, marching in martial rhythm; solemn and sombre with their armbands of black impressed on the left of their arms.

For the last time, "Captain" as they all knew him in Oyo, left his home and journeyed to the club. His club. A sort of gentlemans club, the Oyo County Club. And on to the church. The preachers preached and the choir sang. A special song in his name and the Hallelujah chorus -his favourite piece of music.We, his children danced -the elders told us to dance but we settled on a moderate sway.

At the resting place: a few last hymns, a speech from the leader of the Naval detachment and the giving of his military effects to the eldest son. We shook at the thunder from the volley of automatic rifles and cried as the bugler hummed the 'Last Post.'

What a day November the 24th turned out to be.

Biyi, Bimpe, Debo and Dayo Makinde (from left to right) with Friend.

The Captains children, from second left: Yinka, Bimpe, Tola, Edward, Debo and Dayo. Niyi is on the extreme right. Gbenga and friend make up the picture.