There is something intriguing about death, something exciting, spontaneous and deep. I love the concept of death, its reality and persistent changelessness. Its ubiquitous presence, far beyond the preponderance of the Internet, makes it an exploratory delight. As a child, death began to lose its mystery grip on me as something far-offish. It had to be, after serving at many funeral services, for both the other-worldly and this-worldly rich. I think death should be intriguing for anyone who loses a father at ten, mother at twenty seven and several siblings in-between. Well, it may not be, if your reality isn’t real to you!
Death has a tangible presence on human consciousness and the more I embrace its truth, the more I come to value the dynamics of its Siamese twin, life. I’d be dead by now if death were not a living part of my life. There is nothing surreal about death. With every death, a part of me dies just as a part of me reaches out for life. On this threshold of life and death, I seem to always live on a wavy levitational sphere.
It might interest you to know I’m writing this piece at about twenty thousand feet above sea level, onboard an aircraft from Calabar to Abuja. I write with memories of recent past, conscious that anything that gravitates can lose its gravitational bearing and crashes. In fact, I’m scribbling this piece on the reverse side of my e-Ticket Receipt and Itinerary. As I write this, the aircraft is struggling to steady itself on the uneven and stormy cloud. It feels so real, whatever it is I’m feeling. But I can’t help smiling at my thoughts.
Let me tell you the truth. As I write this, a fleeting thought crosses my mind. Two thoughts, actually. There is that faint thought of not ever getting down to posting this on my blog. I even think about the countless people who never got a chance to talk about their last minutes and seconds. And just as the thoughts come, so they recede as I revert my mind to scribbling on, looking out and enjoying the thought of floating in space. Isn’t that what death does? Bestowing on us the capacity to float in some form? Even in life, some of us float through it, without ever steadying ourselves to actually live.
Do not assume I’m writing about death here. I’m writing about life too. As I write, I’m thinking deeply about the latest air crash in Nigeria, involving the Governor of Taraba State. I’m really not thinking about him as such. I’m thinking about something else, something far beyond plane crash, which I hope to return to very soon. Well, if you are reading this, it means I did get around to post it. It wasn’t altogether a safe flight, but we landed without an incident, and I am set to fly again within the next forty eight hours.