For weeks, the body of former Zambian president Rupiah Banda lay in a refrigerated morgue, a political football in a tug-of-war between family and state. Now, in a landmark ruling, the Lusaka High Court has settled the row, granting custody to his family. It is a decision that speaks volumes about the right to grieve with dignity, a principle that should be universal but is too often trampled by power.
Banda, who led Zambia from 2008 to 2011, died in March at the age of 87. But his remains became a symbol of the country's bitter political divisions. The government, citing national security, initially refused to release the body to his relatives. Officials claimed they feared his burial would spark unrest. The family, however, called it a political vendetta, a cruel and unusual punishment extending beyond the grave.
Judge Mwila Chitumbo ruled on Tuesday that the state's seizure was unlawful. “The right to bury one’s loved one is a fundamental human right, not a privilege granted by the state,” he said. The government has not indicated whether it will appeal, but the family’s lawyer, Mwape Mwape, called the verdict a “victory for justice and the rule of law.”
This case is not just about one family’s pain. It reflects a deeper sickness in African politics where leaders treat the state as their personal property. The Banda family’s struggle against an overbearing executive should resonate wherever citizens are treated as subjects.
The current president, Hakainde Hichilema, has vowed to respect the court’s decision. But the damage is done. For weeks, Banda’s body was held at the University Teaching Hospital mortuary, a political pawn. His relatives could not hold a vigil, could not prepare his burial according to tradition. The mental torture was immense.
Grief is a private affair. When the state intervenes, it turns sorrow into a spectacle. The Banda case is a reminder that no government should wield power over the dead as a weapon against the living.
As the family prepares to finally lay Rupiah Banda to rest in his home village of Munyeke, the question lingers: why did it take a court to do what basic humanity should have dictated?
