Izon Egberi: The Funeral Kiss of Ebikaboere

The Funeral Kiss of Ebikaboere

By Prince Agbedeyi O. D. (+234813490214)

In the quiet riverine town of Opu-Mozi, nestled deep in the creeks of Bayelsa State, lived a fierce, independent Ijaw lady named Ebikaboere Kemeowei—or simply “Ebi” to those who had the courage to call her that.

Ebikaboere was beautiful, strong-willed, and so committed to her singlehood that she made a vow before her entire church congregation at 21:

“No man shall ever touch this temple of the Lord, not now, not forever—even in death!”

The town buzzed for weeks. Mothers warned their sons:

“Stay away from that girl. She go use spiritual pepper blind you.”

But as fate would have it, during a youth peace conference in Yenagoa, Ebikaboere met Tamuno Perewarei—a charming, deep-voiced environmental scientist with a beard so thick it had its own zip code. Their chemistry was instant and volcanic.

Despite her years of thunderous declarations, Ebikaboere fell hard. The town was shocked when they heard she was engaged.

“She wan marry abi I dey dream?” cried Mama Ebi, fanning herself dramatically.

Tamuno, who was as dramatic as her, jokingly said one evening:

“Even if I die before our wedding, you must not touch me. I want to see if you can hold body till eternity.”

Ebikaboere laughed, swore she’d respect his “no-touch” rule—even in death.

“Cross my heart and hope to fry.”

A month to their traditional wedding, tragedy struck. Tamuno was involved in a mysterious canoe mishap while conducting a mangrove restoration survey. The news swept through Opu-Mozi like wildfire.

The funeral was a grand affair—white canopies, mournful drums, and guests whispering:

“Shey she go touch am now?”

Ebikaboere, in a flowing black wrapper, marched in like a Nollywood widow. At first, she held her composure—crying delicately, dabbing her eyes like a trained mourner.

But the moment the casket was opened for the final viewing, something in her snapped.

She looked down at Tamuno’s peaceful face, muttered “Kai...see fine man even in death,” and then—like someone possessed by the spirit of Beyoncé—hugged the corpse and planted a loud, dramatic kiss on his lips.

The crowd gasped.

Old Papa Pere slumped sideways.

The choir stopped mid-hymn.

Even the pastor dropped his Bible.

Auntie Furo shouted, “Ewooo! She don break the vow oh!”

When she finally pulled away, Ebikaboere stood straight, fixed her gele, and said calmly:

“If I no touch am now, na when? E don die finish! But this is my last kiss ever "

Laughter broke out. Even the pallbearers chuckled. The pastor, trying to stay holy, muttered, “Let the dead bury the dead, abeg.”

From that day forward, Ebikaboere was known as “First Lady of the Funeral Kiss.”

And every time someone swore never to do something, the elders would whisper:

“Remember Ebikaboere...and keep your mouth shut.”