By Sam Akpe
Animals do grieve. That means they mourn when calamity befalls any of them. It could be death; an accident; or even a young one getting lost in the forest without a trace. It could be an act of violence by a superior colleague— a lion attacking, wounding or maiming a lesser beast. This generates anger or sorrow depending on the source of attack or the extent of injury.
Animals do not only grieve over one another. They also mourn the demise of their owners. For domestic animals, they know when their owners are rich and when poverty has struck. This is not only reflected in the quality and quantity of meals given them to eat, but also in the regularity of supplies. Every domestic animal is sensitive to the state of mind of its owner — not to talk of his or her absence by death. Do they really mourn?
While thinking about this the other day, I saw a quotation from a book by Barbara King, an anthropology professor. The book is entitled How Animals Grieve. The author states that animals are socially bonded just like human beings. She continues, “We’re all socially attuned, and in many ways our brains are even wired similarly. Why wouldn’t animals mourn?”
Animals also celebrate when fortunes smile on them; particularly when one of them escapes death from hunters; survives a deadly fall; or evades attack by other animals. Just imagine a hitherto barren monkey or pig or goat giving birth eventually at a grand old age. Or a merciless lion that suffers from infertility. Or still, a ruthless hawk getting trapped in a mud, while attacking a smaller bird. That’s enough good news to celebrate in the animal kingdom. But since animals do not smile, clap their hands, laugh, sing or dance like we do, signs of celebrations in their realm are not easily grasped by humans.
So, next time you hear a dog barking; or when you experience the snorting cry of a pig, don’t draw a quick conclusion. Each could mean something different from what you think.
It is not every barking of a dog that implies a verbal attack, or is meant to scare an enemy. It could be an expression of joy or fear or a reaction to the death of a fellow animal, or even its owner.
You compare this to, when human beings shout — depending on the atmosphere. It could be a shout of joy, applause or a cheer, or an expression of fear.
A few days ago, during one of my visits to the residence of Victor Ndoma-Egba, SAN, who recently lost his beloved wife, I saw something that quickly heightened my curiosity. From where I sat, or even when I moved about depending on the assignment I had at hand, I saw cats of different sizes and complexions. Since I am not a cat lover, I tried to avoid them. I was always on the lookout for the cats so that I could stay off their path. But I couldn’t help noticing their movements, actions and reactions from a distance.
However, there was something about these cats that intrigued me. Cats, naturally, have sympathetic miens. They look timid and most times behave as though they are the least troublesome beings in the world. But wait until a rat or any prey crosses their path; or until they get annoyed after being deprived of what they need. That is when you know how wild and audacious they could be. I do avoid them like plagues. Not even their walk— yes, the globally fascinating catwalk — commands my attraction.
But on each occasion, I saw these cats in different moods. They were far less troublesome. They simply stayed in one place, stared at people, looking from face to face, and then walked away to another spot. Anytime a mourner walked in crying, the cats would move in that direction and kept staring at faces. They left me wondering whether they knew what had happened.
As I observed these behaviours throughout the pre-burial mourning era, I kept wondering within me: do animals understand the death of their owners? King answers this question in her book: “I don’t think it’s productive to ask if animals really understand death, since there is no way we can know that. I’m just interested in what we can see.”
Certainly, I was more interested in what I could see. But I remained curious about what I couldn’t see. Everything pointed to the belief that animals understand death.
However, the level of understanding and reaction depends on if the animal is domestic or lives in the wild. This strengthens the belief that each animal approaches news of death or misfortune differently. Their mode of celebration of conquests may also be different.
For instance, two white birds observed in Ndoma-Egba’s house during my repeated visits, displayed their presumed mourning in different ways. They were caged within a small green area in the backyard, with enough space to move around but no chance to escape. The two beautiful birds looked like ducks but behaved like swans — except that they had short necks.
From my observation, they refused to eat. They neither pecked at the ant or worms as expected nor move near their food container placed at the centre of the field. Instead, they were generally unenthusiastic about everything. They kept gazing in the direction of any noise within the compound or looking at each other as if trying to exchange notes on their perceptions.
Unconfirmed observation indicated that these birds knew, somehow, that something deadly had happened to their owner, especially with the unprecedented crowd and streams of tears.
To the cats in particular, Mrs. Ndoma-Egba was their companion. The reason is because unlike the ducks, their movement was not limited. They could sneak into the house or have her sit outside with them. Not only that, she used to rub their backs or probably carry them like babies. But here they were, deprived of such intimate attention. Instead, they saw people crying and speaking in low, mournful tones. Madam was nowhere to be found in all of this.
Someone even observed that perhaps, the cats have been visiting the exact spot where they used to have their rendezvous with their owner only to find someone else sitting there. This quickly sent a signal to them that their owner was no more. For instance, why would so many people invade the compound without madam showing up to attend to them?
It could also be that there is something physically unseen and mentally unknown — except in the realms of the spirit — that revealed to them that something deadly had happened to their owner. Such revelation must have thrown them into severe mourning mood.
Just imagine if these cats and the birds were literate enough to hear and understand what Ndoma-Egba said about his wife at the burial. It was more like a love letter to Amaka. He addressed her as though she were alive, listening and smiling at him. This was how he started: “Where do I start this tribute? Certainly I cannot talk about you in the past, for you live. When you live in the hearts and minds of the so many you have touched, you cannot die. When is the best time to die?
“You are the love of my youth, the love of my life. You came into my life when we were both young, and took it over completely. You left me to worry about my work and my lawn tennis. Even with my work and tennis, you had deep insights. You are faithful, strong, bold, confident, brutally honest and unusually generous and kind. You want the best for yourself and for everyone else.
“With you, there are no half measures. Only the best is good for you, and all. You are very beautiful and even more beautiful inside. You are focused and on a mission. There is no tomorrow in your lexicon. Whatever you have to do you do it today. A fashionista and prayer warrior, you are a devotee of the Blessed Virgin Mary. You are different, simply unique. Your views and attitude were like none other. Spreading joy to others is your biggest joy.”
He noted that just as any other human, Amaka had her faults, which however paled into insignificance compared to her good sides. “You hate pettiness, weakness and slovenliness. You hope and pray for a better society. In all our years together I never heard one child in our home raise his or her voice against another. Indeed, nobody raised a voice against another in our house; at least I never heard. Your many cats — which you referred to as your children — the dogs and birds ate from the same plates. Everyone lives in peace with one another in your home, and the animals too.
“You left enduring legacies. You unlocked the destinies of many and encouraged all who came your way to exert themselves to the limits of their endowments. …You built people. …Your name is carved in our hearts. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you. Your stories are sweet.”
At a certain point, the widower sounded quite poetic: “From my friend you became my lover, wife, and soul mate. You became me and I became you. We became one. Your pains were mine and your joys were my joys. Your whole life is Victor. From being a provincial lawyer, you showed me the possibilities of the global stage and dared me to seize them. Your friends nickname you “gum body” as you cling to me every minute, in body and in soul. Now you have upgraded. You are now an Angel with God Whom you so faithfully served. ….Angels are in Heaven and you are my Personal Angel.
Quoting several Bible passages, the bereaved husband said: “Because God is my strength, I, rather than mourn you, I will celebrate your most remarkable life that you live. It is not the length of our years that matter; rather it is the life in the years. You have life in every minute of your life. I have hope in the resurrection so I will not mourn because we will meet again to part no more. You hate self-pity and love strength, so, I am strong.
“When is the best time to die? The best time to die, is when you die for God has decreed the number of our days and set our limits. ….Today, the world celebrates you. I will celebrate and love you forever. Live on my Angel, my personal Angel.”
What a painful exit! Little wonder, even the pets mourned.
