WE COOK PAP WITH THE WATER USED TO WASH THE CORPSE FOR ITS OWN BURIAL AND EVERYONE EATS THE PAP
I want to confess something about my family. It is something we grew up seeing as normal, even though deep down we all know it is not. My aunt is the one who taught us everything. She said that in our family, when someone dies, their death gives us power and helps us keep our wealth. We do not kill people. But when death comes on its own, it becomes a big blessing for us.
Every time a family member dies, we already know what is going to happen on Friday evening. The corpse comes home to spend the last night in the house. People think it is just tradition, but for us, that night has another meaning.
At night, when everyone is asleep or gone, we wash the corpse. The water we use is mixed with muti, of course. We wash every part of the body with our own hands. And after washing the corpse, we keep that same water. We do not throw it away. That water is used to cook the starch for the funeral — pap, rice, or samp.
People come to the funeral with love, sympathy, and respect. They cry with us. They pray with us. But they don't know that the food they are eating has corpse bath water in it. They don’t taste anything strange. They don’t suspect anything. But by eating the food, they are unknowingly putting wealth into our pockets. Their blessings shift into our lives. Their luck joins ours. And from that moment, they carry a spirit that lets us see their moves. That is how my family always stays one step ahead of everyone.
This ritual was not easy to start. Before it worked, many of our elders had to die. My aunt told us they sacrificed themselves so that the ritual could be strong for the next generations. They died willingly. They wanted us to never suffer the way they suffered. And because of that, we carry deep gratitude — even though it sometimes scares us.
But there is a painful part to all of this. Our family members do not fully die. Their spirits stay in the yard. They walk around at night. They sit under the trees. They stand near the windows. We hear footsteps even when no one is outside. We see shadows even when the lights are off.
Because of them, we have a curfew. After 11 p.m., no one in the family is allowed outside. If you make the mistake of going out, you will feel a whip across your body. You won’t see who is hitting you, but you will feel it. Hard. Until you run back inside. It’s their way of reminding us that they are still there and that we must respect the rules of the ritual.
This is the life we live. This is the secret we keep. And today, I just needed to finally say it out loud.
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