A former National University of Lesotho (NUL) student and a Human Rights scholar lecturing in the St. Augustine Major Seminary, Ntsikoe Eric Likiki, has posed an intriguing question in his Master’s research: could Lesotho rethink burial traditions to save valuable land for farming, housing, and hospitals? “Every weekend, there are funerals across the country,” he said. “While these traditions are meaningful, we have to ask—can we afford to keep using land this way?”
Burials in Lesotho are sacred. Many Basotho believe that when someone dies, they transition to another life, joining ancestors who guide and protect the living. Graves are treated as special spaces, linking families to their loved ones. But as the country buries more people, the available land shrinks. “Lesotho is small,” Likiki reflected. “With only 10 percent of land suitable for farming, can we sustain this practice without impacting the future?” He believes that even the limited arable land must be preserved for essential uses.
His research, started in 2021 at the University of Pretoria, compares Basotho burial practices to those of other Bantu groups like the Zulu and Xhosa. While all these groups see graves as sacred, their attitudes differ. The Zulu, for example, visit graves to maintain spiritual connections with ancestors, while the Xhosa believe their loved ones’ spirits remain close, not confined to graves. In contrast, Basotho see graves as untouchable spaces that must never be disturbed. “The respect we give to graves is extraordinary,” Likiki explained. “But this makes it harder to introduce alternatives.”
Likiki proposes some innovative solutions. One is cremation, where the body is turned into ashes, a practice that could save significant land. “Families can still hold traditional ceremonies before cremation,” he noted, emphasizing that the cultural aspects of farewelling the dead can remain intact. Another idea is creating memorial diamonds from ashes—a unique way to honor loved ones. “Imagine wearing a diamond made from your family member’s ashes, keeping them close to you every day,” he said.
Another approach is second interment, where burial spaces are reused after a certain period. While this might sound unthinkable to some, Likiki clarified, “It’s not about disrespecting the dead. It’s about finding balance between tradition and the needs of the living.”
Why does this matter? Lesotho’s land is not only limited but also eroding, and burials further strain this resource. “Our land isn’t just shrinking due to soil erosion,” Likiki pointed out. “It’s also disappearing under cemeteries.” If less land were used for graves, more could be available for farming, housing, and healthcare.
Farmland is equally critical. Many families struggle with food insecurity, especially in rural areas. For women, the challenge is greater due to inheritance disputes that leave them without access to land for years. “If we saved just a portion of the land used for burials, we could grow enough food to feed thousands,” he explained.
Changing burial traditions, however, is no easy task. Graves in Lesotho symbolize family continuity and sacred connections to ancestors. “We can’t just tell people to stop burying their loved ones,” Likiki admitted. “But we can start a conversation about adapting these traditions to meet modern challenges.”
His argument extends beyond practicalities to philosophical and theological considerations. Traditional Basotho beliefs hold that death is a journey to the ancestral world. Graves are treated as the “houses” of the dead, yet these ideas conflict logically. If the deceased has moved to another realm, why is the grave treated as though the person still resides there? This inconsistency, Likiki argues, weakens the justification for maintaining current burial practices.
From a Christian perspective, which 90 percent of Basotho follow, there’s another argument for change. The Bible emphasizes spiritual resurrection, not physical bodies, making material graves less relevant. Likiki also highlights the overlap between the Christian doctrine of resurrection and Basotho beliefs in Ntsoana-Tsatsi, suggesting that adopting alternatives like cremation aligns with both traditions.
His thesis challenges the Basotho to rethink how they honor their dead while safeguarding land for future generations. “It’s not about abandoning culture but finding sustainable ways to preserve our traditions alongside the resources we need to thrive,” he said.
