Treasure Today, Death Is Right At Your Door

It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live

Marcus Aurelius

In my culture, death is never mentioned. 

Speaking of death is inviting it. People reading this piece may think I wrote in premonition of my death. That I am likely to be the next person in the obituaries. That I am writing this in fear of being struck by COVID-19. Now that the chances of being knocked down by a car are low due to this domestic lockdown. 

Nothing is further from the truth. My article is not an invitation to death because I cannot control the end of my life. The power to determine when and how I will die lies elsewhere. But one thing is for sure – that I am dying anytime. 

My real mortality experience came early.

I came face to face with the reality of death one ordinary school day at age 12. I was in the same class with a vulgar and arrogant girl. No one, not even the bullies of my class, would dare stand up against her. In my school, most personal differences were sorted out physically. After all, it was the first mechanism of settling disputes even amongst adults in the village. But this never applied to this untouchable lass.

Her mother was a ‘mganga‘, a medicine woman who many believed to have a gigantic mirror, at a strategic place somewhere in her tiny house. That magic mirror monitored the happenings of the woman’s family real-time. And she would deal with anyone messing up with her clan there and then. If you think that installing CCTV systems in townhomes is trendy, you are very wrong. Medicine men and witches in my village were there way before.

This rude girl mainly knew one thing. I was prey for every bully in my class. Like I have mentioned before, being a stressed and fearful kid made me vulnerable. Bullies instinctively knew that I had nowhere to run, no one to protect me from aggression.

But when cornered, I would protect myself.

One day, out of extreme frustration, I decided to settle our row the village-style. Seething with anger one hot afternoon, I threw countless, hard kicks and blows that floored her as boys and girls cheered me on. Everyone was jubilant of this act of bravery. She lay humble on the dusty floor. It was a moment of her reckoning when she could not rise to the vengeful contest.

When it all ended, the whole class went quiet. Everyone was happy and sad at the same time. My classmates knew it all well that I had committed a grievous mistake and would not show up alive the following morning. Her mum had watched my heinous act and without saying, would take away my life that very night.

I went home equally sad and scared of my blunder. I wondered how to break the tragic news to my parents but thinking twice about the beating I would receive, I opted to face a peaceful death in my sleep. That evening was one of my most troubling in my childhood. I wondered whether to bid goodbye to my siblings or leave without declaring. In the end, I opted to keep my secret and painfully surrendered to my imminent fate in silence and darkness. After all, my departure would be peaceful.

That fateful night, I had many regrets and secret wishes. 

My regrets were similar to those of Job of the holy bible. “Why did I not die at birth? Why did I not perish when I came from the womb?… For now, I would have lain still and been quiet; I would have been asleep; then I would have been at rest…There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary are at rest.” (Job 3:11). I was mentally exhausted and staring at the wicked that very night.

My most memorable wish was that if only I had money, I would have walked in the thick of the night—ten kilometres to the nearest butchery to buy a piece of pork and eat it. I would then take some huge bones back with me and bury them around our homestead as my parents slept. 

Pig bones were the only known covert antidote for witchcraft in my village. It was said that anything porky neutralized evil powers of the witches, and at times, led to their death. Unfortunately, I had no money to take this secret trek and save my life. Never mind that my father’s name is Mugo. Coming from Mūndū Mūgo, meaning a traditional medicine man with the power to undo a curse.

I woke up the following morning and showed up in school. 

Caught by surprise that no part of my body was aching. I was not even blind! I was happy, and a feeling of triumph engulfed me that morning, even though I woke up very tired. I must have wrestled the evil powers of mother witch all through the night.

Arriving in school, the boys came around to congratulate me for making it alive. Everyone in my class was shocked and happy to see me. The girl was not as bossy as usual but insisted that her mother was soon going “to do something”. Deep in my mind and that of my mates, we had no doubt that the magic mirror never worked, or was not even there after all.

This incident not only liberated my class but made me learn two important things. To courageously surrender to death, and trash the African belief in witchcraft without any care. I have never seen both from the same perspective ever again.

Denial of death is our cultural reality.

Unlike our ancestors, the current human society has created an illusion that every one of us will live and die of old age. That we will all see our great-grandchildren, and we will never bury our children. We will live longer than all our agemates and perhaps attend their funerals. We will all die peacefully after outliving our enemies and bidding all our loved ones a solemn goodbye. What a pitiful mindset of egoic self-deception.

The sad reality is that we have been dying since we were born. Out of the 30-40 trillion cells in our bodies, without counting almost an equal number of bacteria. Scientists estimate that 1 million of them die every single second. That is about 1.2 kilogrammes of cells dying every day! You are dying right now in this process known as apoptosis. Since the body is a balanced system, there is an equal vigour in cell regeneration. Imagine how many times your body has died and renewed itself since birth! Incredible, isn’t it?

This natural balance is not always maintained. In conditions where the cells refuse to die and mutate, this becomes cancer. In situations where cells die uncontrollably, we have degenerative diseases like Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. The cancerous and neurodegenerative diseases are the two sides of the same coin. As in, the former is about cells refusing to die, and the latter is about cells dying when they should not. There are currently about 50 diseases related to this cell death imbalance. 

Every night we sleep, we simulate death. 

In his article Sleep and Death are Brothers, theosophist Gottfried de Purucker asserts that what happens to a man during sleep is a harbinger of what will happen to him at death. Sleep and death are varying degrees of human unconsciousness; only that one is anatomically controlled, the other one is not. Every night we sleep, we slide into a state of unconsciousness of a lesser degree than death. 

He says that anyone who has been at the side of a dying person, must have observed the outstanding semblance between the coming of death and falling asleep. In his words, “when a man dies, it is exactly like falling into a profound sleep, utter, sweet unconsciousness, except that the vital cord is snapped and then, instantaneously, like the sounding of a soft golden note, the soul is free.” 

The dying stage, commonly known as the “death rattle” in palliative care, is a sign that death is very close. It shows that the brain is overly relaxed, in a similar way but more extreme than during healthy sleep. In my understanding, this then means that the path to death is the same as of sleep. Only that one slips away and never returns. The natural spring never recoils. Hence, every night we slide into slumber, we are getting prepped for the irreversible terminal journey.

We will all die soon, but most of us live like we will never.

Why then do we perceive death as something that human beings can control? How many dead people ever imagined how and when they would die? What makes your head simulate your circumstance of death? What makes you think that you will be alive after reading this sentence? This breath could as well be your last, and you have no control over that.

The reason why we have so many trouble leavers in our society is because we never stop to think of our mortality. We treat people badly and never trust anyone, including our wives and children, because wealth brings us a feeling of being on top of the world. Having money means having everything under our tight control. If you do not believe me, listen, and observe our universally daft politicians. That is how we all are.

Our affluence comes typically bundled with a fake perception of permanence.

We never bequeath early on in life thinking we will die when old and frail after carefully distributing our wealth. That is why in our society, even the most knowledgeable and affluent hardly write wills and make their wishes in death known. The stories in our media explain it all.

I wonder why this is so in our contemporary African societies. I guess we become overly egotistical to the extent of denying the fact that money and everything it buys will not save any of us from human destiny. Then we suddenly die from a simple flu or a silly and embarrassing incident. And besides making some comical news, we leave everything that we created in a free-wheeling, self-destruction mode. Sadly, the majority of us are busy emulating this shady life cycle.

Constant self-reminder of my mortality brought my spiritual watershed. 

I am a firm believer in the ancient Roman phrase, memento mori. Remember, you must die. The Stoics used it to remind themselves that every day was a special gift. The Buddhist have maranasati; a meditative practice of death awareness. 

I think of my death all the time. My last breath can come anytime, anywhere. It will strike when I am not fully prepared, but not as severely as if I never had this appreciation of my impermanence.

Every new day could as well be your last.

If you want to know how little time is left for you to do things, read this. It will quickly help you to figure out how many days you are likely to spend with your ageing parents and your spouse and children. You will realize that you do not have so many weekly pizza offers to exploit, nor salted popcorn Friday movie dates to enjoy. You may not have much time left to relish what you are busy amassing, or a lot more days to mistreat and exploit people to earn undeserved riches. You are likely to have ticked off most. 

It does not matter whether you are old or young. Let me ask you again if you did not get it earlier in this article. Who tells you that you will die mature, rich and prepared? And even if you did, how sure are you that your days ahead will be of good health and a sound mind? Everything you hold so dear can be crumbled anytime. Death and fate have no mercy.

Change your ways and commit the little time left to good deeds.

Limit your days of agony and nights of misery while trying to cover up failed or hurtful relationships. Create time for only those things that bring lasting personal happiness and healing the world. Give gratitude and enjoy every day because it is an unusual opportunity that you have been offered. 

Worry less about things that do not make a difference and dedicate your life to what matters. And I am not asking you to focus on saving your soul by strategizing on how to trick God and enter heaven. I beg not to be misunderstood. I have no intention of doing that myself. I am talking about life here on earth because that is all I know.

Treat everyone like you may never see them again. 

Write your will and make your death wishes known to your loved ones. It will lessen their pain and burden when you are gone. Spend time with your dearest ones because you have little time left with them. Revive and rebuild relationships that demand your focused attention and sacrifice. 

Forgive yourself and others to release the deeply hidden trauma and reconnect with the depth of your soul. Avoid getting angry because it erodes your sanity and robs your happiness. Enjoy what makes your life fulfilling, in the company of those people and places that bring you utmost joy.

Actively plan for your exit.

Mentor and share when people genuinely need it. Soon you will not determine how everything you own fizzles out. For sure, nothing will follow you to the grave because it does not belong to you but the Giver. 

Seneca, the Roman Emperor, said, “Let us prepare our minds as if we’ve come to the very end of life. Let us postpone nothing. Let us balance life’s books each day…the one who puts the finishing touches on their life each day is never short of time.”

Prepare for your soon to come death, because when you die, everyone else will be left living.