Chris Ihidero Unedited: How I wish to die

By Chris Ihidero

This article isn’t actually about dying; more like what to do with my body when I am done dying, when I have turned to dead meat! It’s not important how I eventually expire, although going the Abacha way keeps looking like a great idea. I just needed to get you here quickly, and nothing does that better than a catchy title. It isn’t for nothing that I masquerade as a magazine editor, you know! Okay, now that you are here, let get down to business.

Okay, so it’s gonna happen some day; I can’t exactly live forever, can I? I may have many talents but perpetual existence is certainly beyond even me. My increasingly degenerating mind has been considering my options, and a sour taste is forming in my mouth as existing modes of disposing of dead meat seem to be boring or just utterly ridiculous.

I am certainly not going to end up in a church cemetery. My irreligiousness has ensured that. Fair enough. No responsible church should allow the body of an infidel in its yard. But come to think of it, do I want to be dumped 6ft under the ground?  I have never been comfortable with the thought that I would end up as a meal for worms and insects.  The gradual decomposition, the patient gnawing at my coffin by insects with twinkling eyes, patiently working towards devouring me; the thought that a faithful servant like Junior (pls note the capital ‘J’) will shrink to earthworm size and be devoured in bits by insects…nah, no freaking way! Besides, there’s something lonely about being buried in a coffin, even in a crowded cemetery with other very dead people. You are alone in that coffin. Just you. You can’t cuddle in the arms of another dead body.

I have often favoured cremation and it was my exit strategy of choice until recently. Being burnt to ashes is cool by me; seeing that I am this dark-skinned already, it shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, I would look nice in a vase on the shelf. However, with the kinds of children we are having these days, the thought isn’t as comforting as it used to be. What happens if one if one of my children chooses to have an everlasting connection with his/her father by smoking my ashes? While the thought of an everlasting connection is cool, ending up as tar in my child’s lungs is somewhat discomforting. Besides, if he dies of lung cancer as a result of smoking my ashes, what does that make me, a murderous father?

I have also considered having my meat turned to manure, you know, some sort of final philanthropic gesture as my soul sails to hell. But what will the manure be used for? What if it is used to plant a non-swagger-possessing crop like Watermelon? Or Agbalumo? Can I insist that my manure be only used to farm cannabis? It won’t be a bad idea if people get high on me!

Is organ donation allowed in this country? I would love to give away my internal organs so the dead meat to deal with would be lighter. I don’t know how much of me would still be useful by the time I am dead, with the life of beer and peppersoup that I am living.  The most painful part of organ donation is that it is truly heart-wrenching that Junior cannot be donated after the possessor is dead! I have been reliably informed by those who have gone before that Junior, in solidarity, dies with the owner. How sad. Those battery-powered wannabes called vibrators wouldn’t stand a chance if willing sisters could lay their hands on living Juniors of expired brothers.  No one vibrates like Junior, simple! Jeez, surely there must be some appropriate way to send my dead body to the great beyond!

 So, how is my meat to be disposed of then?! Any ideas?