Draconian Tax: Enugu State makes law to tax the dead
By Emmanuel Sixtus
In a shocking twist that has sent ripples of disbelief and fury through the community, the Enugu State Internal Revenue Service has instituted what many are dubbing the “Death Tax.” This polarising policy demands a daily fee of 40 Naira from the bereaved if their loved one’s body remains unburied beyond 24 hours post-mortem. Such a draconian measure, which punishes families for delays in burial, has ignited a firestorm of outrage, leading many to question the very ethics and humanity underpinning this decision.
**”The Bill for the Living and the Dead”: A Bridge Too Far?**
Locally referred to as “The Bill for the Living and the Dead,” this legislative act appears to plunge into a new abyss of governmental intrusion. Grieving relatives, already grappling with profound emotional and financial turmoil, now face the grim reality that each additional day their loved one’s remains linger unburied incurs a cost. While 40 Naira may seem trivial, for families wading through the complexities of funeral rites—especially those bound by cultural or religious customs requiring greater time for mourning—it transforms into a significant financial strain.
As the outcry reverberates, many residents can’t help but ponder: *What’s next?* Will we soon find ourselves taxed for the very air we inhale?
**Could Citizens Be Taxed for Air?**
The mere notion of taxing the deceased feels so absurd, so devoid of compassion, that citizens are left contemplating the lengths to which the government might go in its relentless quest for revenue. In a society already beleaguered by economic hardship, soaring unemployment, and insufficient access to essential services, this new levy raises unsettling enquiries about the government’s true priorities.
What’s to prevent the state from traversing further down this path of exorbitant taxation? If charging for unburied dead is deemed acceptable, might citizens soon face fees for the very act of living? The spectre of a tax on oxygen, while seemingly far-fetched, now looms ominously in the wake of this policy.
“Next, they’ll be taxing us for the air we breathe, or maybe even the sunlight we bask in,” lamented an outraged local. “Where does this madness end? How deep into our personal lives and grief can they intrude?”
**Citizens Respond: A Tax on Grief?**
For many, this initiative feels like a tax on sorrow itself. The stringent 24-hour deadline for burial ignores the intricate nature of death within communities where funerary rites and traditions hold profound cultural significance. In numerous cultures, bodies are not interred for days, sometimes weeks, as families await the arrival of distant relatives or engage in elaborate mourning rituals.
“You can’t rush a burial,” voiced one concerned citizen. “Our customs demand time and reverence. This isn’t just a body—it’s our heritage, our kin. This tax illustrates a complete disregard for our cultural norms.”
Many families are already grappling with limited resources or access to rapid burial services, and the added burden of a daily tax could force them into dire, even desperate, choices. What about those awaiting legal documentation? Or those whose loved ones passed far from home, complicating the return for burial? Such considerations seem to have been swept aside in favour of a sweeping law that prioritises revenue over compassion.
Supporters Cite Public Health; Detractors See an Ethical Quagmire.
Proponents of the policy argue that this tax transcends mere finances—it’s a public health initiative aimed at ensuring timely disposal of remains to avert health risks and overcrowding in mortuaries. They assert it’s a necessary measure to prevent the mishandling of corpses, which could trigger serious health and safety issues.
Yet, sceptics remain unconvinced. “Safeguarding public health is indeed crucial,” one critic stated, “but not at the expense of grieving families. There are more compassionate ways to encourage timely burials without extracting further funds from the populace.”
Ethically speaking, this scenario poses a troubling dilemma: is it right for a government to profit from death, especially when families are at their most vulnerable? Many contend that this move reflects an unsettling trend toward commodifying every facet of life—and now, death.
Where Does This Trail Lead?
As public dissent mounts, citizens are demanding clarity: where does this trail lead? If taxing the deceased is permissible, what other inventive avenues will the government explore to extract funds from its constituents? Can we anticipate new taxes on fundamental resources like water, sunlight, or even the air we breathe?
In a state already wrestling with economic strife, this policy feels like an unjust slap in the face. At a juncture when compassion and support are paramount, the government has opted to impose an additional financial burden. The repercussions of this decision transcend mere fees—they delve into core questions of morality, dignity, and the very essence of governance in the lives of its citizens.
As Enugu State navigates the fallout from this contentious law, it remains to be seen how long this policy will endure and whether the government will heed the chorus of its constituents. For now, families in mourning must now reckon with a new adversary—a tax collector—amidst their struggles with funeral arrangements, grief counsellors, and spiritual leaders as they traverse this grim and costly new reality.
