Azaghvana E-Book 2003 - Flipbook - Page 470
child. We also showed that twins or a child born after twins survived as eighth-born children,
because these represented good luck in Dghweɗe culture. Twins and the first child born after
twins were considered extraordinary births. We also discovered that if the actual seventh born
was the seventh full-brother of only boys born to the first wife, this was considered especially
good luck, but that such good luck made the father vulnerable to dying young. We will see
later that the birth of twins involved aspects of not only being seen as extremely lucky
symbols of communal reproduction, but also potentially dangerous ones if all the rituals
surrounding them were not carried out correctly. To deny eighth-born children a reproductive
future while seventh-born sons symbolised its promotion could be seen as a symbolic pairing
of opposites.
Examining the seventh-born son as the most important ritual custodian, and his wide range of
responsibilities and entitlements in being the first in many ritual promotions of fecundity,
leads to the conclusion that the luck he represented was connected with the hope of successful
socio-economic reproduction. This view is further supported by the fact that twins were seen
as local reincarnations of previous twins. By considering that the infanticide of the eighthborn child, which accordingly removed their right of reproduction, was seen to promote the
survival of all previously-born children, we think we have an additional reason to interpret it
as a form of population control. How else is it possible to explain the infanticide or casting
out of eighth-born children being seen as auspicious for the survival of all previous children?
Such eighth-born children were indeed more than unlucky, and we intentionally use the word
'unlucky' from today's perspective, while the Dghweɗe of the pre-colonial past presumably
saw them more as a sign of bad luck for the reproductive continuity of society. The definition
of bad luck as being 'unlucky' is of course an understatement, considering we are talking
about infanticide, but we also need to realise that the death of a child was a very common
event. The other point to make in this context is that abortion was presumably not an option,
especially considering that it must have been important to establish that the eighth born were
not twins. It would have been very bad luck to abort twins by mistake, because it would have
prevented their successful reincarnation, which was a key belief around the idea of good luck
as part of the ritual promotion of fecundity represented by their birth. Finally, we perhaps
need to consider that a newborn child had not yet been officially named, and was therefore
most likely not seen as an individual unless it had an acknowledged ritual significance, such
as in the case of twins or if it was a first boy born to the first wife.
Still, parents themselves did not carry out the infanticide of their eighth-born child, because it
was seen as emotionally too difficult. Parents who had lost all their previously-born sons were
prepared to break the rule, and they might have decided to opt for giving such an eighth-born
child away to Muslims as this was a less severe form of avoiding bad luck. After the British
abolished infanticide in around 1925 and replaced it with legal adoption, all eighth-born
children eventually survived. We are not certain how long the new cultural practice of
adoption continued to be a valid option, because Dghweɗe families continued to consider the
birth of an eighth-born child a threat to the survival of their other children. From a particular
case of adoption I know about, and which must have happened during very late colonial
times, we can conclude that it might have even continued after Nigeria reached national
independence in 1960/61. I have a close Dghweɗe friend, now in his fifties, who had an
eighth-born older brother who had been given away for adoption. I remember him telling me
that he met his eighth-born brother for the first time shortly after 2001, and he told me later
that they formed a special friendship, which must have been a very healing experience for my
friend and his eighth-born older brother.
Seventh-born and eighth-born traditions among neighbours of the Dghweɗe
Before we move on to the next chapter about the birth of twins and ideas around conception,
we want to briefly explore similarities and differences among the Dghweɗe neighbours
regarding the significance of seventh and eighth-born children and attached cultural practices.
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