On Death

Sheriff’s face seems more familiar than I know it, but the only time I remember to have ever happened at the same place as he, was in Casso-Lagos at a wedding. He contested for Councillor and won, achieving a lifelong dream, but then few weeks later, ‘Rest in Peace’ decked his Facebook wall. We weren’t close and I wasn’t supposed to feel very concerned but as I gazed at the scenario with my inner eyes and imagined myself in his state, my heart bumped in my breast with frightening loudness and a sense of my own powerlessness to how long I get to live in this world lay heavy upon me.

Death is the greatest challenge of all. Diseases could kill for a century, man finds its cure eventually. Tyrants plague settlements, people revolt. War lasts so long it ends. But death, it’s more popular than God Himself, for even where people are utterly oblivious of the concept of a supreme Being as God, they’re aware of death and they cannot beat it. Toyese and I had a plan, but then he dived into a swimming pool and cracked his skull. I told Biodun I’ll become president, when I became it, he was in the grave. Mojisola wrote her exams well, but when her results came out, she couldn’t. Oosa was a friend, he hit his head on the road. You see people today, happy and full of prospects, tomorrow, they lie helplessly motionless as they’re lowered into the doorless, windowless room where ants that care not about who they were or what they meant would handle the rest. Nice boobs, six packs, virgin vagina, long prick, fine face, curvy body, everything, food for the ants.

I’ve often wondered, if I died today and the things religions preach about the hereafter are true, would I not be eternally doomed? I’ve not been very religious, and that’s because I’ve often wondered, what does it change? A very religious country plays football, they’re beaten five to zero. A very religious people sponsor a team to Russia, they’re sent back home by heathens. Prophets allegedly wake dead people yet cannot wake dead economies. Hospitals aren’t flocked with unbelievers, Pastors and Alfas, both old and young wail in agony, in there too. Good people suffer, miracles don’t save them. Bad people cry, heavens don’t fall. And when you think about these things, you’re only still religious if you’re indeed very stubborn and rigid in your conviction. Being godly, being religious and being spiritual, I found out at some point, have dissimilar meanings. But what they share in common? They’re all giant hammers. But I’m afraid, I stand to be lectured otherwise though, not all human problems are nails.

But again, what if there’s paradise and hell truly? If I died today, where would I find myself? If you died today, where would you go? Of course everybody imagines being 70 or 90 years old while surrounded by grandkids, but not everyone would reach 40, even 30, beware. Nobody wants to die; people just do. You could die anytime. Anyone could die anytime. You can’t set the time. You can’t know the date. It eludes us. You’re powerless. You’re nobody. You’re fucked. And oh well, people would cry. Your friend, Matthew would cry. But then his phone would ring and his girlfriend would announce she’s at his house waiting. No, Matthew wouldn’t say “Go away you heartless whore! I’m in no mood for sex. My friend just died!” No, he’s human, you can’t even blame him if he has an erection right in the midst of those people crying, he’s a feeble thing, he’ll go home to her and have a very enjoyable sex. And at night while the girl cooks dinner, he would grab his phone out of idleness and post on Facebook, “Ah, my friend!!! I can’t believe you’re dead. I’m crying.”

Maybe he cares nonetheless, what does it change exactly? Death is a dickhead, one time or the other, it’s coming for us all and cries won’t change a thing. People won’t cry beyond a week before they’ll return to their orgies and orgasms. Meanwhile, you’ll be in there, in that limbo of eternal murkiness, bloating, bloating and bloating until suddenly, gbas! You burst and the poor ants merry in excitement. Yo-hoo! Your death; their Christmas!

– Lord eBay (and his random ruminations, 2018)
#eStreetWriters

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