We Don't Die - A short story about Divination

Bandele sat with the others in the living room, reminiscing about his Uncle Theodore. He had passed away in his sleep at 76 years old, having worked 40 years of that time on the railroads of the Old South. Even in retirement, he woke up at the crack of sunrise to tend his garden, and do odd jobs around the house with his wife up until three months ago, when his health began to fail. It was as if his Spirit sighed in relief upon his death, finally worn and finished up with an increasingly busy world. Uncle Theodore was now an Ancestor.

Bandele kept as quiet as he could, and allowed the older family members their opportunity to make peace with the finality of the moment. Facial expressions told who was at peace, and who was distraught. A close-knit family, many of them had made regular trips to see Uncle Theodore during his final months. Now with his death here the family began to discuss some of the subjects that they had purposefully tried to avoid while he lay on his sickbed, like funeral arrangements, his will and caring for Abigail, his wife. A few tears invited their way into the discussion and Bandele's older cousin Nehemiah excused himself to sit alone on the front porch.

Bandele kept envisioning Uncle Theodore’s smile. He could remember clearly how his uncle had patiently taught him to catch and throw a football perfectly one quiet summer back in ’79. He also remembered how he had later come to his rescue by loaning him money to make a down payment on a house when his wife was pregnant with their first child. Uncle Theodore was without a doubt, his favorite uncle. He kept telling himself that this man that he loved so much could not die. His body would leave. Still, there was comfort in knowing his Spirit would survive, so long as someone could remember him.
…

“This is how I will talk to you Uncle,” Bandele thought while running his left index finger along the plump white cowry shells that rested in his right palm.

Against all western reason, his faith lay in the potency of these shells and the invocation that could conjure up the voice of the Ancestors through them. They were his link and he had seen them work many times in the past. Bandele had climbed knee deep into the netherworld and communicated with family members that existed only as Spirit. These people had lived and died way before he was born. These ancestors advised him on work, counseled him about his relationships and carefully guided his spiritual growth. Although he was not born in Africa, he had successfully incorporated the age-old custom of ancestral divination into his life and he was a better man for having done so.

While this funeral marked the end for the rest of his family, Bandele realized how fortunate he was to continue his relationship with his favorite uncle.

Uncle Theodore was just going to be four cowries away.