IT’s proper to begin this little piece with a note of empathy and some apologies. I sincerely empathise with our dear friend and sister, Chimamanda. One of the most challenging experiences one could ever go through is losing a loved one. Losing both parents in a very short period of time is even more challenging.

I perfectly understand what has now morphed into a ‘campaign’ in the context of her trying to cope with those terrible losses. It is healthy for Chimamanda to speak out. It is also healthy for the Church, for it will hopefully bring about some much-needed changes.

In the Igbo culture, the bereaved could hardly go wrong; he/she is mostly tolerated, and usually apologised to. On this note, Chimamanda deserves some unreserved apologies for what may have transpired during the funeral she publicly spoke about in an interview. It is rather unfortunate that such a scenario, whatever may have been the cause, was allowed to play out at a funeral in the first place. Now, I’m not so interested in the details of what transpired between the Adichie’s and the priest (whom I have never met before) as to place a few things in their right contexts.

I do this from my general knowledge of how the Church works (vis-a-vis funerals) – being an insider. This would help balance the narrative a little bit and avoid sliding into the kind of ‘single story’ that Chimamanda Adichie has famously warned against. After all, she now has the voice and the platform which the little-known priest does not have.


As we all know, the Catholic church is found in nearly all nooks and crannies of Nigeria and most countries. Among other things, her successes with primary evangelisation owe largely to the extant vow of celibacy, a mysterious, self-denying but quite liberating way of life, that commits her clergy entirely to the work of evangelisation with relatively little distractions from family and friends.

Despite any human shortcomings, these men have sacrificed a lot for humanity! They sow the seed of faith in places others would rather not go; they build schools and vocational centres to teach the people how to read, write and work. They are some of the greatest and most generous agents of civilisation if you think about it.

In difficult missions like the North of Nigeria, they use bicycles, and board okada to carry out their duties; they say Mass under trees and leaky roofs.

In this time and age when religion has become business and so-called ‘men of God’ would rather remain in ‘viable’ cities to enjoy huge tithes, fat ‘brown envelops’ and hobnob with politicians, Catholic priests stick with the poor in villages and the countryside.

How do they survive under such circumstances? Well, the picture of a typical village parish is not as pitiable in the South as it is in the North; yet it is still bad enough down South.

In Igboland, for instance, village parishes survive on the dedication and tenacity of poor parishioners, who, seeing the sacrifices of their priest, willingly feed and clothe him – in an act of solidarity hardly replicated anywhere. Let it be known that much of the responsibilities of running a parish are borne by these long-suffering villagers. Their illustrious sons and daughters are in the cities contributing massively to churches in Port Harcourt, Lagos, Abuja, Accra, London, Washington, etc.

They come home at Christmas and sometimes make donations, but the bulk of the responsibilities is shouldered by long-suffering villagers.

The other thing that brings them home is the funeral. I guess it might now begin to make sense how structured levies (including funeral dues) and little fees paid here and there has become part of the overall mechanism by which a typical village parish in the East survives.

In the characteristically orderly way of doing things in the Catholic church, records are kept to ensure fairness to those who are consistent. Like every association, there are duties, rights and privileges. Responsible people consult the records once in a while to ensure that they are in good standing. Such people find themselves parting with N800 – N2000 (on average) at reasonable intervals for one church levy or the other.

This way, they do not allow these dues/levies to accumulate, and so make it easier for them to handle, considering their levels of income. As someone rightly observes, the Catholic Church is still the most ‘affordable’ and ‘cost-effective’ church one could be a member of in today’s Nigeria. And I agree. Occasionally, donations are made by willing members, but tithes (i.e., parting with a tenth of one’s income monthly) are hardly emphasised and in most cases non-existent. These facts are easily verifiable.

However, the less responsible members would wait for funerals in order to clear their debts. These debts go up to N30, 000 and in rare cases N40,000 if they have accumulated so much. The defaulters stage all sorts of theatricals, expecting the Church to give them some waiver or preferential treatment.

But would this not be unfair to others? If everyone waited until funerals to fulfil their responsibility, how would the Church survive? These same people could part with over N100k every weekend on ‘good time’ in the cities; some ‘sow seeds’ of half a million or a million in the cities to consult ‘prophets’ and prosperity preachers. When they tell the story, they will so skew it that whoever hears it might think that N30,000 is all funeral levy. It is not; it is mostly miscellaneous outstanding debts.

Without wishing to play things down, I think a good number of reactions and correspondences Chimamanda receives come from persons who belong to this latter group. They would hardly tell the whole story.

It’s heart-warming that Chimamanda has set up a fund to help people pay up such dues/levies, but she should be wary of scammers from this latter group, those who would rather use our sister’s money for cows and unnecessarily lavish funerals than use it to clear up petty Church debts, so as to pave a way for a modest and decent Christian funeral.

Now, the Adichies are way bigger than the amount of money involved here and may have been greatly supportive of the church in their village, as Chimamanda narrates.

Therefore, we may now safely conclude that what transpired during the funeral in question had absolutely nothing to do with money. I suspect it had everything to do with ego, temper, communication and manner of approach, on the part of either the priest or the Adichie’s or both.

Though priests are generally some of the finest gentlemen one could come across, it does not take away the fact that some could be rude, arrogant and lacking in the manner of approach. While most imbibe the best of the long and rigorous seminary training, it is not unexpected that elements of the old self might still pop up from time to time. Thankfully, these are fringe elements in the priesthood and they are in the minority. It also has a lot to do with the specific mysterious dynamics of this thing called grace. The grace of the unction received at ordination does not obliterate human nature but works with it in mysterious ways.

I give an example here: someone who is quick-tempered is also likely to be quick-tempered as a priest. Moses was quick-tempered but was called. The long training is meant to help people manage their moods and tempers, but it does not always succeed. If not successful, the priest is likely to have a hard time dealing with people. He will frustrate a lot of people; they will also frustrate him and make him a sad priest. Perhaps the priest in Adichie’s village belongs to this group. The consequence was what happened at the funeral. If this line of thought is anything to go by, then that priest needs to ask God for help and work more on himself to avert more problems.

It could also be that the Adichie’s were brandishing their influence and ‘connections’ even without realising it – or the priest may have perceived them to be doing so. Many people lack the basic idea of the psychology of priests. They are quite suspicious and a bit intolerant of people parading their egos, and they don’t want to be seen to be favouring any persons or groups. Some have challenged brutal dictators and deadly politicians and feel, like John the Baptist, that they have nothing to lose but their heads. They do not move with bodyguards and escorts. I guess the subtle ego-play and power-play were what degenerated into the ugly situation at the funeral.

A little manner of approach, politeness and better communication from both parties could have resolved any tension. One cannot simply assume that, because one is a ‘pillar’ of the parish and must have donated so much in excess of the total levy arrears, therefore, one is automatically entitled to a waiver or preferential treatment. Of course, this is very possible, but some communication and unspoken understanding – what Brazilians would call jeito – must be involved.

Having said that, it is no secret that some Catholic priests have, in recent years, acquired what I call strange tastes.

Though there is still an overall atmosphere of sanity, some have become almost as materialistic and vain as their counterparts in other churches. I make bold to say that the proliferation of so-called ‘adoration grounds’ is not unconnected with these strange tastes I speak of. For filthy lucre, some have become disobedient and unregenerate, even to their bishops. To these fringe elements (for they are still in the minority), even events as grim as funerals could become another avenue for money-making. In fact, no event could be too solemn, none too ‘heavenly’ to be defiled by money-changers. Chimamanda speaks of using occasions such as funerals to ‘get back at people’ for one thing or the other – and I partly agree with her.

In any case, I hope I have balanced the narrative enough. The blame could actually be spread around. People have been hurt and wounded. They must speak out, and I think the message has sufficiently been passed across. But people should take care that this does not degenerate into a blind thirst for vengeance. It must not become a smear campaign.

Chimamanda might mean well but her utterances might inadvertently be an invitation to anti-clericalism. This would be most unfair to a Church that has done so much for humanity, a Church that has preserved the culture of learning, without which people would not have had a voice in the first place. The average priest is still a gentleman. The average priest is loving and compassionate.

The average priest continues to make a lot of sacrifices for humanity. The average priest trains at least 10 children of the poor in the course of his active service, and these are not always his relatives. This other side of the ‘story’ could be lost in the din of Chimamanda’s campaign. For all its shortcomings, the Catholic church is perhaps the last bastion of sanity in Nigeria today.

We hope that this would make for a more compassionate and sensitive Church. On the one hand, it may turn out to be a learning experience for priests. At the very least, they would be aware that there are Chimamandas out there who have the platform to voice out their grievances. On the other hand, it might equally be a learning experience for the Chimamandas/Adichie’s, for then they may realise that there are still institutions that follow due process and are hardly beholden to rank and power.

Dr Ude, a Research Fellow, Faculty of Philosophy, KU Leuven, Belgium