For 18 months, Prince Chibundu could not lay his father to rest. The high chief had passed away quietly. As dawn broke on a warm morning in May 2019, his body succumbed to the cruel grip of a stroke.

A man who once strode the corridors of accounting firms, working as a certified accountant, he later turned his back on spreadsheets and audits to embrace the ancient throne of his ancestors.

But even as his spirit left this world, his family found themselves paralysed, trapped by tradition and torn by the insidious pursuit of a grand, “befitting” funeral.

What should have been a period of mourning and reflection swiftly became a battlefield of wills. Chibundu’s family—his mother, Chioma, and his father’s three other wives—found themselves on opposing sides of a cultural tug of war.

His mother, pragmatic in her grief, proposed a simple burial two months after the chief’s death, reasoning that they could honour him later with a lavish remembrance ceremony when finances and emotions were in a better place.

But the other wives, driven by the weight of ancestral expectations and the demands of kin, vehemently disagreed.

“It was a real struggle,” Chibundu recalled, his voice heavy with the memory. “I was still in school at the University of Abuja, trying to focus on my studies, but the family battle consumed me.”

His phone rang incessantly. His mother would call, her voice low and strained, pleading with him to return to Imo State and help her make sense of the chaos.

But Chibundu’s elder sister, who was living abroad at the time, begged him to stay away. She feared for his safety, warning that tensions were running high and that an attempt to intervene might lead to violence.

The prince was caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—torn between duty to his family and the haunting possibility of danger. The fight, however, was not just about timing or family rivalries; it was about status and pride.

Chibundu’s father, though modest in life, had accumulated significant wealth and properties. Yet, in death, these assets became a secondary concern.

What truly mattered to the extended family was the spectacle of the burial. The man’s soul, they believed, would find no peace without a ceremony worthy of his status, a grand display of power and opulence that would satisfy the ancestors.

“They wanted a burial that people would talk about for years,” Chibundu explained, his voice growing bitter. “It wasn’t about honouring him—it was about showing off.”

Then came the request that shook him to his core. One day, shortly after finishing his third-year exams, Chibundu received a call from his uncle. His voice was calm, almost businesslike.

“I need you to get access to your father’s bank accounts,” his uncle had said, barely hesitating. “We’ll need at least N20m for the burial. You are his first son. You have the money; give us!”

Chibundu, stunned, stared at his phone. The figure was staggering, the request even more so. “N20m? For a burial?” he recalled asking, and his uncle’s voice was stern. It was N20m or nothing.

“I called my mum immediately,” Chibundu recounted, still sounding incredulous at the memory. “She told me to stay out of it. She said we needed that money to survive now that my dad was gone. How could they expect us to throw it all away on a single day?”

The family’s demands grew more outrageous with each passing week. The elders, in their fervour for a “befitting” burial, took matters into their own hands.

Without warning, they seized the chief’s body and transferred it to a government morgue in a neighbouring state, out of reach of the immediate family.

For months, the corpse of the once-revered man languished in cold storage, held hostage by tradition and family pride.

Despite tearful pleas from Chibundu’s mother and siblings, the body was kept from them, cloaked in secrecy and held under the iron grip of the elders.

Chibundu’s family could do nothing but watch. As the months slipped away, the weight of grief became heavier with each passing day.

It wasn’t until the police intervened, alongside another respected monarch, that the corpse of Chibundu’s father was finally released from the grip of tradition. Eighteen months after his death, the chief was finally laid to rest. But even then, peace was elusive.

“The burial was fine, by all standards,” Chibundu said, his voice soft with the exhaustion of recounting the past. “But my uncles were not satisfied.

“They complained that we didn’t slaughter enough cows, that we didn’t perform certain rituals, that the goats we used weren’t sufficient.”

Chibundu paused, frustration evident in his tone. “They said if we didn’t do these things, my father wouldn’t have a smooth journey to the spirit world.”

And so, a man who had spent his life serving his community and family, who had risen from accountant to high chief, had his final moments on earth marred by conflict.

In the end, his burial was not about celebrating his life or grieving his death, but about the spectacle, about the demands of a tradition that left his family fractured.

Chibundu’s story is not isolated. Across Nigeria, especially in the South-Eastern region, families find themselves trapped in the grip of age-old customs that demand elaborate and expensive funerals.

In a country where poverty rate is rising, many are forced to choose between daily survival and the cultural obligation of a grand burial.

For some, this results in months—sometimes years—of storing their loved ones in morgues, waiting until they can gather enough money to meet societal expectations.

Morgues across the country are beginning to overflow, as families, strapped for cash, leave their loved ones’ bodies unattended for extended periods.

The burden of tradition weighs heavily on those left behind, turning grief into a financial and emotional nightmare. In the race to provide a “befitting” send-off, the humanity of the departed—and the sanity of the living—is often forgotten.

In a quiet voice, Chibundu reflected on the ordeal that nearly tore his family apart.

“My father was a good man,” he said. “He deserved peace. But in the end, we gave him a funeral for the living, not the dead. And that is something I will never forget.”

Corpse held for 15 years

Before his passing in March 2004, Chief Felix Odinukaeze, a respected patriarch from Umumbaneto Village in the Isi-Mgbidi Autonomous Community, Oru West Local Government Area, Imo State, expressed just one wish—to be buried in the foundation ground of his uncompleted building project.

A husband to three wives and father to numerous children, Chief Odinukaeze had lived a full life.

His success in business and his reputation as a former Nigerian Postal Service employee made him a pillar of the community, owning vast properties, including several business premises around the bustling Orlu junction.

But after his death, his family was thrown into disarray. His dying wish, simple as it seemed, would remain unfulfilled for 15 long years as a bitter dispute erupted among his children.

The root of the problem was one of his sons, who, it was said, refused to give his approval for the burial, stalling all efforts.

The late chief’s body lay abandoned in the morgue for over a decade, wrapped in layers of family discord, legal battles, and financial burdens.

As the years passed, Odinukaeze, a man who had nurtured his family and provided them with wealth and security, remained in limbo. No grave was dug, and no farewell was said.

He was left suspended between life and death, a victim of the very family he had cared for dearly. His body, still unburied, became a silent witness to the devastating effects of unresolved family feuds.

Rumours circulated in the village that that son (name withheld) had left the country, leaving his father’s body in the mortuary as he pursued his own life overseas. Some said the family was waiting for his return, while others whispered of legal complications.

The truth, it seemed, was buried as deeply as the unresolved grief within the family.

One thing was clear: the family’s refusal to act had taken a toll not only on them but on the hospital where their father’s body was stored. The proprietor of St. Felix Hospital, Dr Felix Iwudibia, had kept the late chief’s body for 15 years and incurred significant losses in the process.

“After several entreaties to the family to come and take away the corpse of their father failed, I was compelled to institute a legal action against the family,” Dr Iwudibia explained, recounting the lengthy court case he had filed against the Odinukaezes. Despite the legal battle, no resolution came quickly.

Finally, on April 29, 2019, a surprising turn of events occurred. The family, after 15 years of inaction, settled their N1.4m hospital bill and took their father’s body for burial.

It was a moment of both relief and regret. One of the late chief’s sons, Leonard, explained the deep pain the family felt over their father’s prolonged stay in the morgue.

“Our father took very good care of his family. He sacrificed everything for us, left us with a legacy of wealth and property, but sadly, we could not give him the respect and dignity he deserved in death,” Leonard lamented.

According to him, efforts by the family and community leaders to bury the late chief were repeatedly frustrated by his eldest brother, Emeka, who insisted that their father’s uncompleted building be finished before any burial could take place.

“Our father’s last wish was to be buried in the foundation of the storey building he was constructing before his death. Unfortunately, due to the controversy stirred by our eldest brother, we were unable to grant that wish.

“We had no choice but to bury him at the old house,” Leonard revealed with a heavy heart. “Most ironically, Emeka did not even attend the burial.”

In the end, the family’s long-standing grief culminated in a final act of closure.

The once lively patriarch, who had waited 15 years for a proper burial, was finally laid to rest in April 2019.

Though the burial did not follow his last wish, it brought some peace to the family. Leonard expressed his gratitude to Iwudibia for slashing the hospital bill from N1.8m to N1.4m after their pleas.

Abandoned father’s corpse for nine months, squandered N2m

In September 2023, in the quiet town of Awgbu in the Orumba North Local Government Area of Anambra State, the age-old traditions of burial and inheritance took a dark, unsettling turn.

Uchenna (surname withheld), a young man estranged from his late father, found himself in the crosshairs of the law after allegedly squandering N2m raised for his father’s burial.

As if the loss of the funds weren’t enough, the body of his father had been abandoned in a mortuary for over nine months, left to the mercy of time as cultural expectations and greed intertwined.

The story began long before his father’s death. Uchenna, born to his father’s ex-wife, had been disowned after a bitter family conflict that led to his estrangement. For years, he was absent from his father’s life, never contributing a dime towards his care or even visiting during his sickness.

When the elder, Anadumaka, passed away, it was his second wife, Lovina, who had lovingly tended to him in his final days. She was there, at his side, in sickness and grief, navigating the trials alone.

But death, like a silent thief, often brings the worst of human nature to the fore. The moment her husband’s breath left his body, Uchenna returned, suddenly appearing from the shadows.

He, alongside his aunt, Chinelo, began to lay claim to his father’s property. Chinelo, the younger sister of the deceased, had her own troubles.

Recently divorced, she had returned to her father’s compound in Awgbu, burdened by her failed marriage and the weight of bitterness that followed her. Her presence in the home became a source of torment for her own mother, Maryrose, who suffered regular abuse at her hands.

Chinelo, according to several sources who confided in our reporter, was no stranger to violence. Years earlier, it was said, she had hired thugs to assault her former husband in Abia State, an act that led to their eventual separation.

Since then, she had taken possession of significant portions of her family’s property, subjecting her elderly mother to harassment, even calling vigilante officers on her.

Now, emboldened by Uchenna’s return, she directed her venom toward Lovina, her brother’s widow, stripping her of everything she had left after her husband’s passing.

According to Chidinma Ikeanyionwu, Public Relations Officer for the Anambra State Ministry of Women Affairs and Social Welfare, Chinelo and Uchenna colluded to take possession of the deceased man’s ATM cards, mobile phones, and houses in both Delta State and Awgbu.

They began collecting rent from tenants living in these properties, ignoring the grief-stricken widow who was left behind with nothing but her tears.

Lovina, who had sacrificed everything to care for her husband in his final days, found herself suddenly destitute, forced to beg and borrow just to fund his burial.

As word spread through the community, the story grew more grotesque. Uchenna, entrusted with N2m to organise his father’s burial, reportedly squandered the entire sum.

He could offer no coherent explanation when asked what had happened to the money and with no funds left to cover the burial expenses, his father’s body remained abandoned in a mortuary for nine months.

Akinwunmi’s case

Taiwo Akinkunmi, the esteemed designer of Nigeria’s national flag, was laid to rest in Ibadan, Oyo State, after a year-long wait.

His funeral service took place at the Obafemi Awolowo Stadium and was attended by various dignitaries, including members of the Oyo State cabinet, former lawmakers, and representatives from the security agencies, as well as family members and students from his alma mater.

A representative of the Oyo State Government at the burial, Bayo Lawal, emphasised Akinkunmi’s national significance, stating that his burial should have been a matter of federal concern rather than solely the responsibility of his family and the state government.

Lawal highlighted that Akinkunmi epitomised a national icon whose contributions to the country should be honoured appropriately, both in life and in death.

Overflowing morgues

The desire for a “befitting” burial—an event steeped in cultural pride and family honour—can sometimes overshadow the very humanity such traditions are meant to uphold.

Families, like that of Uchenna Anadumaka, are left fractured, not only by the grief of death but by the bitterness of inheritance battles, the corruption of tradition, and the misguided pursuit of wealth and status.

As morgues across Nigeria continue to fill with the bodies of those caught in this struggle between old customs and new desires, the nation is forced to ask: at what point does the cost of tradition become too high? How long must the dead wait for peace, while the living squabble over the spoils of their passing?

The topic of abandoned corpses in Nigerian mortuaries due to delayed burials touches on deeply ingrained cultural, economic, and social issues.

According to a study published in the International Journal of Intercultural Relations, burial rites in Africa are often seen as the final opportunity to show respect to the deceased, which can prompt families to delay burial until all funds or resources are available to meet community expectations.

In Nigeria, it is common for bodies to be kept in morgues for extended periods, sometimes for years, as families wait to raise funds for lavish funerals or resolve disputes.

The cultural demand for grandeur in burial ceremonies not only places emotional strain on families but also creates public health concerns, as many mortuaries are overwhelmed by the number of bodies they house.

A 2020 article by The Conversation highlights how many mortuaries across Africa struggle to cope with such situations, leading to overcrowding, poor management of remains, and additional fees for families.

The delay in burials is often exacerbated by family disagreements. Ultimately, while the cultural significance of burials in Nigeria cannot be understated, the increasing burden on mortuary facilities and the financial toll on families have sparked conversations about the need for more practical and sustainable approaches to honouring the dead.

UUTH’s case

In 2023, the Chief Medical Director of the University of Uyo Teaching Hospital, Prof. Emem Bassey, addressed the growing problem of abandoned corpses in the hospital’s mortuary.

According to Bassey, some of the corpses in their morgue have been left there for over 15 years.

He emphasised that many families might not even be aware that their relatives’ bodies were brought to the mortuary, especially in cases where the police were involved, further complicating the identification process.

Another key reason cited for this abandonment is the high cost of burials, particularly in states like Akwa Ibom and Cross River, where funerals are often elaborate and expensive.

Bassey proposed the possibility of conducting a mass burial for these unclaimed bodies, stating that it was unfair to leave corpses unburied for such extended periods.

He also criticised the societal norm where families, particularly those of lower income, are pressured to spend heavily on burials instead of supporting their relatives while they are alive.

LUTH

The Lagos University Teaching Hospital faced a similar situation in 2021, where 124 corpses, including 99 children, were left unclaimed in their mortuary.

Most of these deceased children were unregistered patients, referred to LUTH due to complications arising from childbirth at traditional birth homes.

Many of these children were left in the morgue by their parents, some of whom had likely died during childbirth or were too impoverished to claim their children’s remains.

Despite LUTH not charging fees for storing the bodies of children, the corpses continued to accumulate. The hospital issued a notice to the public, giving family members four weeks to claim the bodies or face a mass burial.

A consultant pathologist at the hospital, Dr Martins Momoh, explained that these cases are particularly tragic as many of the children were never claimed, highlighting a lack of proper identification and communication between patients’ families and the hospital.

In the event the bodies were not retrieved, the hospital planned a mass burial, which added to the institution’s burden of maintaining the body’s long-term.

Okoye varsity’s public appeal

In a separate case, the Vice-Chancellor of Godfrey Okoye University, Reverend Father Professor Christian Anieke, made a public plea in 2024, urging families to come forward and identify the corpses that had been abandoned in the university’s teaching hospital morgue. Some of these bodies had been in the morgue for up to 18 years.

An order from the Enugu High Court permitted the hospital management to carry out a mass burial if the corpses were not claimed within 21 days.

This announcement was part of a broader effort to renovate and upgrade the hospital’s mortuary facility, which had been overwhelmed by the number of abandoned bodies.

Anieke expressed that the issue posed a significant challenge for the hospital and the surrounding community, and a mass burial would allow the institution to proceed with much-needed renovations.

Meanwhile, the Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu University Teaching Hospital in Amaku-Awka, Anambra State, also struggled with a mortuary filled beyond capacity with unclaimed bodies.

By mid-2024, the hospital management announced its decision to carry out a mass burial for corpses that had been abandoned since 2014.

The institution’s Public Relations Officer, Henrietta Agbai, stated that the Anambra State government, led by Governor Chukwuma Soludo, had approved the disposal of these unclaimed corpses.

The hospital issued a public notice, calling on families to come forward and claim the bodies within one month.

Located in a busy area with frequent emergencies due to road accidents and gunshot injuries, the hospital’s mortuary often receives unidentified corpses from these incidents, adding to the overcrowding problem.

UBTH

In May 2024, the University of Benin Teaching Hospital in Edo State also faced an overwhelming number of unclaimed corpses.

The hospital’s mortuary services coordinator, Dr Ehizogie Adeyemi, revealed that 270 corpses had remained unclaimed, including 201 infants and 69 adults.

Many of the families who had initially provided contact information to the hospital were unreachable, making it difficult to notify them about the situation.

The hospital management issued a six-week ultimatum to families, giving them a chance to claim the bodies before a mass burial would take place.

The hospital expressed the need for the public to understand that the accumulation of unclaimed corpses not only puts pressure on the mortuary but also poses logistical challenges for the facility.

Enugu, Anambra burial laws

Both Enugu and Anambra have enacted laws aimed at streamlining burial ceremonies, ensuring affordability, and preventing the accumulation of corpses in mortuaries. However, the implementation of these laws, despite their intentions, has not been without controversy.

In Enugu State, the mortuary tax was recently clarified as not being primarily a revenue-generating measure but rather a means of discouraging the prolonged storage of corpses.

The state’s Internal Revenue Service, through its Executive Chairman, Mr Emmanuel Nnamani, noted that the tax is derived from the Birth, Deaths, and Burials Law Cap 15 of Enugu State, revised in 2004.

This provision mandated a fee of N40 per day for corpses stored beyond 24 hours in mortuaries.

Nnamani emphasised that the tax was not exorbitant, as some reports had falsely suggested a N40,000 fee, but merely a nominal N40 daily charge.

This tax is levied on mortuary owners, not the deceased’s family members, though the cost is often passed on to families when retrieving bodies for burial.

This regulation came about to address concerns over mortuaries being overcrowded with unclaimed bodies, a trend spurred by either unresolved family disputes or the desire to wait for enough resources to conduct a grand funeral.

According to Nnamani, the tax encourages timely burials, preventing corpses from piling up in morgues. This is particularly important in a context where, culturally, some families may wait years to raise funds for a “befitting” funeral.

Soludo’s enforcement

Anambra State’s approach is more focused on reducing the financial burden of burial ceremonies and discouraging elaborate and prolonged funeral practices.

The Anambra State Burial/Funeral Ceremonial Control Law was enacted in April 2019 under former Governor Willie Obiano, but current Governor Charles Soludo has been a vocal advocate for its enforcement.

The law aims to moderate the excesses of burial practices in the state, which had long been criticised for imposing a heavy financial toll on families.

Soludo, during the funeral of former Governor Chukwuemeka Ezeife in 2024, publicly condemned the extravagant nature of the ceremony, highlighting how it violated the law.

He criticised the display of opulence at the event, which was in direct contradiction to the statute’s intent.

The law contained several provisions designed to cut costs and simplify burial procedures.

For instance, corpses cannot be stored in mortuaries for more than two months, and funerals, including condolences, must take place in a single day.

Moreover, the law restricts the number of undertakers to six and outlaws the use of billboards, posters, and second funeral rites.

Despite these regulations, enforcement has been problematic. While Soludo expressed his determination to uphold the law, violations persist, with residents continuing to host elaborate funeral ceremonies.

The governor acknowledged that the law predates his administration, but stressed that adherence to the law was critical for creating a sustainable, economically manageable practice around burials in the state.

There had been no arrests or prosecutions related to the violation of the law since its enactment, raising questions about the government’s capacity to fully implement these regulations.

Socio-cultural, economic context

In Nigeria, the practice of lavish funerals deeply intertwines with socio-cultural and economic dynamics, leading to a troubling trend of abandoned corpses in mortuaries.

Families often prioritise ostentatious send-offs over dignified burials, resulting in morgues overflowing with unclaimed bodies.

This situation underscores a complex interplay of cultural expectations, financial pressures, and societal values.

A senior sociologist, Dr Chieze Okezie, stated that cultural traditions in Nigeria place immense importance on how the dead were honoured.

He added that funerals are not merely a rite of passage, adding that they are public displays of respect and status.

Okezie said, “These overflowing morgues in Nigeria are a stark manifestation of a society trapped in the grips of tradition and the relentless pursuit of social status through funerary practices.

“The interplay of socio-cultural values and economic constraints compels families to abandon their loved ones’ remains, highlighting a pressing need for a cultural reevaluation of funeral practices.

“Addressing this issue requires a collective effort from communities, scholars, and policymakers to redefine the narratives surrounding death, dignity, and the true essence of honouring a loved one’s legacy.”

According to Professor Abiola Irele, a scholar in cultural studies, “In many Nigerian communities, the burial of a loved one is a reflection of the family’s social standing. The more extravagant the funeral, the more respect the deceased commands in death.”

This phenomenon drives families into financial turmoil, as they often resort to loans or the sale of assets to fund elaborate funerals that meet societal expectations.

The economic context further complicates this issue. Nigeria’s socio-economic landscape is marked by stark inequalities, where many families struggle to meet basic needs.

As pointed out by Professor Kola Abiola in his research on socio-economic impacts on cultural practices, “While the desire to uphold tradition is strong, many families find themselves in precarious financial situations, leading to decisions that leave the deceased’s remains unclaimed in mortuaries.”

This disparity highlights a tragic irony: the pursuit of social respectability through elaborate funerals often results in neglecting the deceased’s final resting place.

Moreover, the growing trend of unclaimed bodies prompts a deeper reflection on societal values.

As families delay burials in pursuit of the ‘perfect’ funeral, they inadvertently contribute to the degradation of the deceased’s dignity.

Professor Olufemi Babatunde, who studied the ethical implications of burial practices in Nigeria, argued that, “The neglect of proper burials speaks to a broader societal failure to prioritise human dignity, both in life and in death.”

The issue of abandoned corpses in Nigeria’s teaching hospitals reflects a broader societal and economic challenge.

While families might not be aware of their relatives’ deaths or are unable to afford burial costs, the hospitals are burdened with the financial and operational costs of maintaining these bodies.

In response, many hospitals have turned to the option of mass burials to address the growing number of unclaimed corpses, urging families to claim the bodies or risk losing the opportunity for a proper and dignified burial.

The combination of cultural norms surrounding burial and the high costs associated with funerals contributes to the complexity of the issue across multiple states and institutions in Nigeria.

Another sociologist,  Professor Iheriohanma Ekeoma, at the Federal University of Technology, Owerri, Imo State, suggested that the cultural weight placed on burial ceremonies contributed to the practice of keeping bodies in mortuaries for extended periods, sometimes years.

“Families may go into debt to finance extravagant funerals, which include large gatherings, expensive caskets, feasts, and multi-day events. These societal pressures are at odds with the government’s push for more modest and timely burials,” he added.