A Nigerian family volunteering to dig graves in Kaduna

For more than 50 years, one family has dedicated themselves to tending the largest cemetery in the northern Nigerian city of Kaduna – much to the appreciation of other residents who dislike working with the dead.

Until a few weeks ago, they did this without formal pay – digging graves, washing corpses and tending the vast cemetery, receiving only small donations from mourners for their work.

The large Tudun Wada cemetery was set aside by the authorities for the city’s Muslim residents a century ago.

Abdullahi’s family started in the 1970s when two brothers – Ibrahim and Adamu – started working.

Now the two siblings lie underground in the cemetery, and their sons have become the main caretakers of the cemetery.

“Their teaching to us, their children, was that God loves service and will reward us for it even if we don’t get any worldly income,” Ibrahim’s eldest son Abdullahi Magaji told the BBC when asked why they decided to continue work as unpaid gravediggers.

The 58-year-old now manages Tudun Wada’s pastoral operations and 18 staff or, until recently, volunteers.

He and his two younger cousins ​​- 50-year-old Abdullahi and 40-year-old Aliyu (sons of Adamu Abdullahi) – are three full-time workers, all arriving before 07:00 for a 12-hour shift seven days a week.

They must always be in touch because, according to Muslim rites, a funeral must be arranged within hours of death.

Magaji, as a rule, receives calls on his mobile either directly from a relative or from an imam – all the priests in the city have his number.

“A lot of people have our numbers, and as soon as someone dies, we get a call and go straight to work,” he says.

One of the trio is sent to care for the corpse, which may include washing it and wrapping it in a shroud.

The body is measured and these details are sent to others so that the grave can be dug.

This can take about an hour – two people take turns digging 6 feet (1.8 m) of earth – sometimes more if it’s in a rocky part of the cemetery.

A dozen graves can be dug in a day – hard work in the Kaduna heat.

“We’ve dug up eight graves today alone, and it’s not even noon yet, some days are like that,” said Abdullahi, who started working at the cemetery when he was in his 20s.

The cousins ​​have lived through very tense times – especially during religious violence when tensions flare between the city’s Christians and Muslims. The two communities tend to live on opposite banks of the Kaduna River.

“We had several religious clashes in Kaduna, but the one that sticks out the most for me was one in the early 1990s. Many people were killed,” says Magaji.

“We went around collecting corpses and taking them out of the streets.”

Muslims were taken to Tudun Wada in the north of the city, and Christians to a cemetery in the southern suburbs.

“It was such a troubling time personally and I didn’t work very long at the time, but it helped strengthen my resolve to carry on,” he says.

Usually, while the team is digging the grave, the imam at the local mosque announces during one of the five daily prayers that a funeral will take place.

Many of the faithful then go to where the body has been prepared for prayers – then it is taken to the cemetery for burial, often crowded with mourners.

Once near the grave, the shrouded body is lowered – as a sign of respect, it is covered with a layer of sticks and broken clay pots. The grave is then filled in to form a slightly raised bed.

After the rituals are over and before the mourners leave, the cemetery guards ask for donations.

This is usually done by 72-year-old Inuwa Mohammed, the cemetery’s oldest worker, who explains the importance of the Abdullahi family to the community.

He had previously worked with the cousins’ parents: “They were amazing people who loved what they did and instilled altruistic behavior in their children.”

The little money collected can sometimes buy lunch for the crew, but it’s never enough for anything else. In order to survive, the family also has a small farm where they grow food.

Graves are recycled after 40 years, meaning the land is not a big problem, but maintenance is.

“There’s a lot that’s missing at the moment — we don’t have enough equipment to work or good security,” says Aliyu, the youngest of the cousins, who has worked there for 10 years.

He explains how part of the wall collapsed, allowing those looking for scrap metal to steal the headstones.

Some graves have metal plaques inscribed with the name and date of birth and death – although many do not, as Islamic clerics discourage ostentation. Most are simply outlined with stones and bricks or sticks.

In any case, cousins ​​remember the location of everyone buried in the cemetery and can direct people if they have forgotten the location of a relative’s grave.

After a recent BBC visit to the cemetery, they saw a dramatic change in fortunes.

The new chairman of the local council, whose office oversees the site, decided to put them on the payroll.

“They deserve it, given the enormous amount of work they do every day,” Ryan Hussain tells the BBC.

“The grave is the last home for all of us and the people who do such hard work deserve to be paid, so my office will pay them as long as I am chairman.”

Magaji confirms that staff have started receiving their monthly salary for the first time:

• five seniors, including himself, get 43,000 naira ($28; £22.50)
• the others, including Abdullahi and Aliya, receive 20,000 naira ($13; £10.50).

This is well below the national minimum wage of $45 a month, but Mr Hussain says he hopes to increase their allowance “over time”.

He says it’s a shame the cemetery was abandoned for years by previous local council chairmen.

He plans to repair part of the fence, install solar lights and increase security, the chairman adds.

“I’m also building a facility at the cemetery where corpses can be washed and prepared for burial, which used to have to be done from home.”

For Abdullahi’s family, it’s a welcome investment – and Magaji hopes it will ensure one of his 23 children will one day become a cemetery custodian.