People who have died and come back

(Dedicated to members of the Department of Anthropology and Sociology of the University of Buea in Cameroon)

A lot has been written and said about what happens when someone dies. Obviously, the bible and other religious books have a view on the issue. Even so, their stances appear to be more of theory than the result of real death experiences from people who have been there and come back to tell the tale.

Even when Jesus resurrected and reappeared to some of his closest associates, he did not paint to them a vivid picture of what he had gone through in terms of what he saw and heard on the other side of life.

So, what religion offers us on the subject remains somewhat superficial, unless one decides to embrace the belief that since it is from God, it has to be accepted out of faith – which is in a way, belief in things unseen.

Anyway, away from religion and back to real life, let us look at the experiences of some “real” people. The first account is that of a seven-year old boy who was seriously ill with malaria and lying in bed. He fell asleep – or so it seemed to him – and then suddenly, he found himself being led by the hand by a man whom he could not identify.

They were walking along what to the boy was the most beautiful street he had even seen. Yet, the more they progressed, the more beautiful the road became. Then their journey stopped in front of a giant gate that was manned by two men: one on either side. The man who guided the boy asked the men to open the gate for him to let the boy in but the two men refused adamantly.

They said it was not yet time for him to go through. Since the boy`s guard insisted, a quarrel broke out between him and the sentinels on duty. While this happened, this youngster had the opportunity to look inside of the place to which the gate was the entry point. What he saw was a city so gorgeous that he started praying the access should be opened for him to enter and enjoy it. From what he could discern, there was total joy for those who were in that city. Everything looked bright and glorious and incredibly irresistible.

Unfortunately for him, because the gate men would not yield an inch, his leader seized his hand and they immediately embarked upon the return journey. The lad burst into tears and begged to be allowed to go back and enter that beautiful city but his attendant stood his ground. Suddenly, the youth regained consciousness.

He realized he was no longer in bed but had been taken out into the compound yard where his mother and sister were dousing him with cold water and crying. Many years later, when he related the incident to his mother and sister, they confirmed that at the time he regained consciousness, they were crying because they noticed his eyes had “gone white and were turning”. Besides, they said, there was some kind of vapour coming out of his head. That seven-year old boy was me. That was then, though.

Recently, while I was in Kumba here in Cameroon, I joined a group of acquaintances engaged in a conversation on life after death. One man related a story of another bloke who died in a village in Meme Division but was spotted after his burial. The story goes that after the fellow died, a neighbor who had a farm next to his saw him clearing the farm like he used to do. This neighbour went nearer to him and greeted but did not get an answer.

Annoyed, the greeter interjected: “what kind of new behaviour is that? Why do I greet you on a day as bright as this and you do not answer”. That evening when the indignant neighbour returned to the village, he decided to go to the other man`s house and confront him about this poor behaviour. Much to his dismay, he found that the compound was in mourning. When he asked who was dead, he was told it was the same fellow. He died a week ago. Stunned, the visitor said this was impossible because he had just seen the man earlier in the day working in his farm as usual.

Another man detailed how a few years after his father died, he saw him walking on a road like a normal person. He met his father on a bridge as they bypassed each other going in opposite directions. Suddenly it dawned on him that he had just seen his own father: the clothes he wore were those he had known were his. Physically too, there was no doubt that this was his father he had just bypassed. So he turned round and shouted out: “Papa!” At once, his father disappeared.

The same narrator told another story about his dad. He said some five years after the latter died, he appeared to him in a dream and lamented that the son was letting him down in front of his mates. When the son asked what he meant, his father told him that when he went out with his friends, he could not walk tall because they mocked him for being one whose son had not taken any steps to offer a thanksgiving service in commemoration of him.

He explained to the son that if he did this, his friends whose children had already done it for them would notice it and start treating him with some respect. The narrating son said he held the service a year later and throughout the four years that had elapsed; his father had no longer raised that issue in any of his dreams.

Another relator talked about a working girl with who he often traveled to work. They and other passengers usually caught the taxi at the same spot. One day he heard the girl was ill and hospitalized and he visited her in hospital. They chatted and he left. A week later he heard she had died. On the day of her removal, he was at the mortuary, participated in the removal and accompanied the corpse to her village where it was buried.

Six months or so later, as he approached the spot where they caught the taxi for work, he found the girl standing there with other passengers. She was dressed in an attire he had seen on her before and was carrying a handbag he had seen with her before. He then exclaimed, “What! Is this not Lydia?” and started going towards her. Just then the girl looked up at him, quickly mingled in the crowd, walked away, quickened her pace and vanished.

Have you had any such experience before or do you know of anyone who has had one? Tell us the story.