After living many years in the United States where he achieved much and made a name for himself, a Nigerian American Harvard Trained professor of medical research, Alphonsus, decided to focus homewards to contribute his quota to medical research in Nigeria.

He headed home to Nigeria and was travelling to his native Imo State when he encountered the notorious gunmen operating on that axis. Although he escaped, the trauma haunted him for weeks until he finally gave up the ghost. Before his demise, he called his wife and daughters in the United States and shared his experience, and when she offered to come to Nigeria, he begged her not to.

At his demise, his wife had no choice but to arrange his corpse to be returned to the United States where he was buried.

His wife said the only family he had in Nigeria was his sister, as his parents were late. His wife and daughters were in the United States and they brought him ?home? to bury where the family could visit him, place flowers on his grave and visit him whenever they want.

Similarly, Olugbenga Owolabi, left Nigeria in his 20s and later came back home and was abducted and killed on his return in his 50s in Ogbomosho in Oyo State in 2022.

On July 28, 2022, Olugbenga David Owolabi was kidnapped alongside his staff, Rachael Opadele in Ogbomoso, Oyo State. Owolabi was a Nigerian American who had come to Nigeria, to invest in the hospitality business in Ogbomoso, his hometown. On August 3, 2022, they were senselessly killed by their abductors, despite the payment of N5m ransom. Owolabi was buried on October 1, 2022. His remains were flown back to America where he was appreciated and buried.

When Nigerian reggae musician Majek Fashek died in his sleep in New York City on June 1, 2020, and was buried there. His family initially tried to raise funds to bring his body back to Nigeria for burial, but were unable to due to the COVID-19 pandemic. His son, Randy, added that they couldn?t raise the funds to fly him home.

Only members of his immediate family attended his burial in New York. Fans of Majek Fashek, who were looking forward to paying their last respects to the reggae icon in his home country, were disappointed with the development.

Sound Sultan, born Olanrewaju Fasasi, a Nigerian rapper, singer, songwriter, actor, comedian and recording artist.

He was regarded as one of the pacesetters of modern hip hop music in Nigeria.

On 12th of May, 2021, It was reported that Sound Sultan was somewhere in America where he was receiving treatment in the form of chemotherapy, as the musician was reportedly diagnosed with throat cancer.

Unfortunately, he died July 11, 2021 at the age of 44 as a result of the illness and was buried same day in the United States. The question was, why was he buried in another man?s land, considering the calibre of his person in the Nigeria music industry and of course, a bonafide citizen?

Aren?t they supposed to transport his corpse home? The family did not state why he was buried in the United States. But many attributed religion to it. He was a Muslim.

Ambassador Plenipotentiary and Nigerian billionaire, Antonio Oladeinde Fernandez, died on 1 September 2015, in Belgium, after an undisclosed illness of several months. He was buried at Ixelles Cemetery in Brussels on 18 September 2015. It was gathered that one of the reasons which shaped the decision of the Fernandez family to bury their patriarch in Belgium was not unconnected with the fact that most of his children reside outside Nigeria. Of all Ambassador Fernandez? nine children, only two- Teju Phillips and Gbemi Fernandez, live in Nigeria. The others- Anthony, Akin, Titi, Koye, Oyinkan, Atinuke and Abimbola, are based in the United Kingdom and the United States of America.

Generally, Nigerians don?t bury their dead outside the country especially the elderly. This practice is common in southern Nigeria where the dead don?t get buried outside their communities but there are exceptional cases.

If for any strong reason someone was buried outside his community, the practice in some parts is collect sand from the scene of burial or an item of value belonging to the dead and taken home for reburial.

The Igbo of southeast Nigeria frown at burying their dead outside their community because they believe that death is a continuation of life and that the dead continue to live in the community.

The Igbo people believe that a well-done burial ritual would determine the well-being of the deceased in the land of the ?living-dead?.

Similarly, the Yoruba people of Nigeria typically bury their dead in their family compound or home, not outside. The Yoruba believe that death is not the end of life; rather, it is a transition from one form of existence to another. There is a belief in an afterlife that is a continuation of this life, only in a different setting; the afterlife is conditional, depending on the nature of one?s life and the nature of one?s death. This is the meaning of life.

But on many occasions circumstances have warranted people burying their dead outside. Such circumstances include Christianity, westernization, modernity and currently, insecurity and the Japa syndrome.

According to Dr. Chibike who is based in Canada, ?Every year, countless number of people pass away, without family or friends to honour them with a proper funeral. This happens a lot overseas where you see many people who have lost touch with their families at home. Sometimes, the home people are not even aware about their whereabouts. In many places, the government and other organizations take care of the unfortunate and not-so-pleasant stuff like disposing of the person?s stuff, figuring out what to do with the body. There?s usually nobody to take them ?home? and there are requirements for doing that. When someone dies without a next of kin or somebody to claim the deceased?s body, typically such people are buried without anyone noticing.

?We live in a changing world and even though we have rich cultural backgrounds, we are letting a lot of things pass. The Igbo and the Yoruba are well-known for their rich cultural heritage, and funeral rites and rituals are not an exemption.

?Funeral rituals in Igbo land are usually a colourful celebration, filled with fun if the death is regarded as ?good death? and the person was aged and well married with kids. You cannot just burrying him anyhow. Their funeral usually involves the killing of cows and goats, hen, depending on the village of the deceased and it is believed that if the rituals are not properly done, the spirit of the deceased would come haunting the family. A man is not counted lucky until his end is known.?

However, the cost of repatriating body home has made many people to bury their dead ones outside.

From the Nigerian Embassy in New York, it was gathered that the requirements for repatriating a dead body could be stressful and costly.

For instance, the family must obtain a copy of Death Certificate; a copy of Transit/Burial Permit; original copy of Non-Communicable Disease Letter issued by Coroners, Medical Examiner or State/City Health Agency; original Notarized Embalmers Affidavit stating how the body was embalmed; original Notarized Letter from Funeral Home stating that the body has been placed in a hermetically sealed metal casket; the deceased?s Nigerian Passport (if not available, a relative with a valid Nigerian Passport should swear a notarized affidavit stating their relationship and that the deceased is a Nigerian; $30.00 (Thirty Dollars) Postal Money Order or Certified Bank Cheque as processing fee, made payable to the Consulate General of Nigeria; contact name, address and telephone number of the receiving party in Nigeria; a self-addressed stamped express mail envelope should be enclosed with all the aforementioned documents for sending the Permission Letter; Formal Letter from the Funeral Home asking the Consulate to issue a Letter for Shipment of Human Remains to Nigeria; Waiver for the repatriation of corpse from the Federal Ministry of Health ? Port Health Services, Abuja; and photocopies and Original Documents.

It costs too much money and stress to do all these including the high cost of transporting the body home.

Ada Okeke, a Nigerian woman living in Atlanta, USA, said she would want to be buried in the USA at demise. She shared an experience of burying her late father in her village in the southeast.

?When my father passed away, his body was transported to his ancestral village for burial, in accordance with traditional customs. I was told that this was the rightful way to lay him to rest, and as a traumatized teenager, l didn?t have the emotional bandwidth to question this practice.

?However, as I grew older and began to reflect on my experience, l started to wonder: Is this custom still relevant in today?s context, or is it a relic of a bygone era that perpetuates unnecessary financial and emotional burdens on families already grieving? Why must we bury our loved ones in a place where their children and grandchildren cannot easily visit, pay their respects, and maintain a lifelong connection? Why deny future generations the opportunity to lay flowers, share stories, and bond with their parents at a nearby gravesite, every anniversary of their passing?

I?m sure I?m not the only Igbo daughter or child asking these questions, as my friends who have lost a parent or two have echoed similar sentiments, their voices laced with the same longing and sorrow. Together, we wonder: Why must our ancestors? traditions dictate our grief, instead of allowing our love and longing for connection to guide us? Why must we sacrifice the comfort of proximity and the solace of shared memories for the sake of a distant burial tradition that feels like a heavy yoke, than a living, breathing tribute to our loved ones?

?I was blessed to grow up in a loving family, where my father showered us with love and admiration. He was our rock, our guiding light, and role model. We cherished every moment with him, even in his final days as he battled a fatal illness. We sat by his hospital bed, holding his hands, praying for his recovery, and begging God to spare his life. But fate had other plans. The day he left us was the darkest day of our lives. We lost not only our beloved father but also our mentor, our confidant, and our hero.

?The grief was overwhelming. And then came the devastating blow: Our mother told us that our father would be buried in his village in Nigeria, thousands of miles away from our home in Atlanta, instead of in our local cemetery where we could visit him often. My father?s wishes were silent on this matter, and it appears that his family in the village, in collaboration with my mother, unilaterally decided to follow this tradition.

?The omission of his explicit instructions on this matter suggests that he may have intentionally left it out, trusting that his loved ones would prioritize his true desires. Instead, cultural expectations and extended familial pressures seemingly took precedence, leaving us with a painful legacy that conflicts with our personal values and needs as his children. The thought of being separated from our father?s final resting place was unbearable.

?The financial burden of honouring my father?s memory in a way that felt authentic to Igbo burial rites came at a steep cost to my family. It drained his hard-earned savings and plunged us into debt to fund an elaborate and distant burial ceremony, masqueraded as a ?celebration of life?, left our family reeling from financial devastation for years. The weight of this burden was a constant reminder that our grief had been compounded by the pressure to conform to tradition, rather than prioritizing our own well-being and financial security.

?But the situation only deteriorated further. The entire family was expected to undertake the arduous journey from the US to the remote village for the burial, incurring exorbitant travel and accommodation expenses. In retrospect, the financial burden and logistical challenges were utterly unjustifiable, especially considering the risk of kidnapping and armed robbery and other health concerns.

?The strain on our emotional and financial resources was staggering, a bitter pill to swallow in our time of grief. The ordeal left us feeling drained, regretful, and questioning the true value of adhering to a tradition that brought us more pain than solace.

?As we stepped into the village, my siblings and I were met with a jarring sight that left us reeling. Our father, who had always preached the importance of living within our means, had built a grandiose mansion in his rural hometown, while we had grown up in a humble, cramped house in the US. The irony was staggering. This ostentatious display of wealth, built with the sweat of his brow, would never be a home to his own children. We would never set foot in it, never create memories within its walls. The obscene mansion was more of a mausoleum, a tomb for his body rather than a testament to his love for his family.

In that moment, I felt a deep sense of sorrow and anger, wondering why he had let his loyalty to an outdated custom override his responsibility to his living family. His education, his wisdom, had not been enough to overcome the blind pull of tradition. The pain of this realization still lingers, a reminder of the disconnect between our cultural heritage and our personal well-being. ?Last year I decided to visit my father?s grave in the village for the first time since we buried him there. It was a trip I wasn?t sure I wanted to take.

First, it wasn?t safe from everything I read about the hardship and insecurity in the country. Second, it was extremely expensive. But my mother persuaded me and two of my siblings to join her. As I stood before my father?s gravesite in the village, I was met with a sight that will forever haunt me. The once-tended grave was now overgrown with weeds, the marble tiles vandalized or stolen, and the entire area left in disarray and desecrated. The pain and neglect etched on that sacred ground mirrored the ache in my heart. My mother, too, finally realized the grave mistake she had made in burying my father in this forsaken place, far from our love and care. I couldn?t contain my anguish as I paid the occupants of our family home to restore some dignity to the site. Each night, my siblings and I would visit the grave, pouring out our tears and prayers, feeling our father?s presence, knowing he, too, felt trapped and unhappy.

?As we prepared to leave the village, I placed a wreath of dried flowers on his grave, a symbol of our enduring love. The silence in the car on our way to the airport was deafening, a testament to the sorrow and regret that had consumed us all. In that moment, I knew that our father?s memory deserved better, and I vowed to ensure that his legacy would never again be forgotten or disrespected.

?Traditions may bind us to our past, but they must not suffocate our present and future. As we navigate the complexities of culture and family, let us not forget the love and respect that our loved ones deserve, even in death. Burial practices and where you want to be buried is a private and personal choice. I respect that. However, as we navigate the complexities of our roots, let us not forget that our parents? legacies deserve to be honoured in a way that nourishes our own spirits, rather than leaving us with a sense of disconnection and loss.

?While I?m a proud Igbo daughter, I have decided to be buried where my own children live, where they can visit me easily, tend to my grave, and share stories of my legacy with their own children, creating a sense of continuity and connection that transcends generations and geography.

?In doing so, I hope to break free from the shackles of tradition and forge a new path that honours my heritage while prioritising the needs and well-being of those I love.

?My mother-in-law passed on a few years ago. She was buried outside her ancestral home because her husband and children preferred to bury her where they could easily have access to her. They all live overseas.?

Ada Okeke?s story is just one of the many stories people in the diaspora shared. People are beginning to shake off the shackles of tradition while some still cling to it.

For Cathiam, another US-based Nigerian, ?I live in New Jersey, USA and my husband?s best friend?s wife passed away. It was decided that they would send the body back home to Nigeria. I don?t really understand because their children and grandchildren are all here. They never intend on moving back to Nigeria and only going home to visit. By the time they had a night wake here, and then sent her body home, the whole cost of everything was just about $10,000.00. Everybody ended up contributing money to help him get her home. It was suggested that they cremate her and bring the ashes home, but the husband did not want to hear it. In his mind, he had to get her home in piece to be buried.??

Lolo Nneka Chimezie, the President of Igbo Women Association, IWA, decried the attitude of Ndigbo who conduct burials and marriages outside Igbo land for whatever reason.

?It?s a big shame for us to conduct burials and marriages outside Igbo land. We must rise against it by fighting back against insecurity in Southeast. We can?t desert out ancestral land for strangers whose agenda is to dispossess us.?

According to Chief Goddy Uwazurike, ?Burial of Igbo people outside the compound of the dead person is frowned upon in Igboland. Circumstances may cause the burial to be done outside the family compound but definitely not due to insecurity.

For Chief Chekwas Okorie, ?It is an abomination and sacrilege for adults, especially senior citizens, to be buried outside their community of origin, the sad truth is that I can?t remember any of such citizens or titled man buried outside their communities of origin in southeast states. It?s both an abomination and an embarrassment.? (Vanguard)

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