South Africa’s legal system exposes neocolonial repatriation disputes in African leadership transitions

The dispute over Edgar Lungu’s remains cannot be separated from Indigenous African cosmologies that view proper burial as essential for the spiritual well-being of both the deceased and the community. Many Zambian ethnic groups, such as the Bemba and Tonga, have specific rituals for burying leaders that ensure their transition into the ancestral realm, a process often disrupted by legal delays and political interference. The legal framing of this issue as a 'dispute' rather than a sacred obligation reflects a colonial imposition of secular, state-centric norms over Indigenous spiritual practices.

This case echoes centuries of colonial-era looting of African remains, where European powers and later Western-backed institutions controlled the narrative of African history and death. The 19th-century British colonial administration in Zambia, for example, often denied African leaders proper burials, instead displaying their remains in museums or repatriating them under conditions that reinforced colonial authority. The Lungu case is part of a broader pattern where post-colonial African states inherit these legal frameworks, perpetuating the same power imbalances in repatriation disputes.

Comparable disputes over the repatriation of Indigenous leaders’ remains have emerged globally, such as the 2019 case of the Māori leader Te Rauparaha in New Zealand, where legal battles delayed his return to his iwi (tribe) for years. In Australia, the repatriation of Aboriginal remains from museums has been a decades-long struggle, with institutions often resisting due to institutional inertia and lack of political will. These cases highlight how Western legal systems and institutions systematically devalue Indigenous knowledge systems and spiritual practices in favor of bureaucratic and political expediency.

From a forensic anthropology perspective, the prolonged delay in repatriating Lungu’s remains risks degrading the remains, complicating any future scientific analysis or cultural reburial. Studies show that improper storage conditions can accelerate decomposition, making it difficult to conduct proper ancestral rites or DNA analysis for identification. Additionally, the legal system’s reliance on bureaucratic procedures rather than cultural or scientific expertise further marginalizes the expertise of Indigenous knowledge holders in these matters.

Artistic and spiritual traditions across Africa often depict the journey of the dead as a communal and transformative process, as seen in the Malawian *nyau* masquerade traditions or the Yoruba *egungun* masquerades in Nigeria, where ancestors are invoked to guide the living. The Lungu case disrupts this spiritual continuity, reducing a sacred transition into a political spectacle. Artists and spiritual leaders in Zambia have begun using music, poetry, and ritual to protest the delay, framing it as a violation of ancestral trust and a symptom of broader societal decay.

If unaddressed, this dispute could set a precedent for future repatriation conflicts, particularly as African leaders from the post-colonial era pass away and their families seek to honor them according to tradition. A Pan-African repatriation treaty, modeled after the 2018 *Benin Dialogue Group* or the *UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples*, could establish clear protocols for handling such cases. Without such frameworks, legal battles will continue to prioritize state interests over cultural and familial rights, exacerbating intergenerational trauma.

The voices of Lungu’s family, particularly his children and extended relatives, have been largely absent from mainstream coverage, despite their cultural and emotional stake in the matter. Civil society groups in Zambia, such as the *Zambia Heritage Foundation*, have criticized the legal framing of the dispute as a 'state issue' rather than a family and community concern. Additionally, women’s groups in Zambia have pointed out that the patriarchal nature of Zambian politics often sidelines female relatives in decisions about leadership legacies, further marginalizing their perspectives.