Chemistry is simple, and it's just all about studying how matter works. It only gets complicated when humans are involved. I mean, how do you explain that every human is a bag of carbon from the hair on their head to the cells in their body? Some will deny it. Some will give you some weird ideas about spirituality. They are ignoring the science of everything, including the dalliance between humans and their environment. Even as a Chemistry professor with 30 years of experience under his belt, nothing can prepare you for the sight of decaying humans. Especially one with which you share the identical genetic make-up. The ammonia expels from the carcass, the entire chemical reaction starting when the heart stops, as though on a cue. The whole process leading to a disgusting mess of maggots and fleas, and regular visits from vultures tell a tale of something gory that happened to this person. Then you begin to ask yourself questions like, “how can a person be reduced into this shapeless unrecognisable carcass.” The person you once hoped you cradled to bed and loved more than anything in the world. Your daughter was gone, this carcass was something else, but then it takes you back to the beginning.
Love is a terrible emotion. The first time I fell in love with the opposite sex, I thought I had gone insane. I couldn’t explain the feeling. I just knew my heart raced, and my abdomen quivered. I wondered why I felt like that whenever I saw her. But have you seen her smile? It was enough to melt a mountain. I tried finding out what hormone or chemical reaction was responsible for the madness called love. I got no rational answers, only quite flimsy excuses. I visited the hospital and ran numerous tests and brain scans to ascertain what went wrong with my brain and body rewiring such that made this one female human make my heartache and goosebumps all over my skin. But I failed. I fell radically in love with her. Unfortunately, she loved me back. Then we were afflicted by lust. I succumbed, she succumbed, and we succumbed. The first ejaculation I had was almost like I felt my soul leaving my body. Suppose it didn’t already go. This illicit affair continued for a while. Then she became pregnant. It was magical. My little sperm has become a child—a daughter. Then tragedy struck. The child lived. Her mother died.
At first, I thought it was the honourable thing to do. I gave the child up for adoption. I couldn’t look back. What should I do with a child I never wanted? A child that killed her mother in the stubborn process of coming to the world. I blamed the child for all my woes. I couldn’t forgive the child or myself for generating the sperm. I killed her, her mother, through my ejaculation. I couldn’t forgive myself even for that. But a few years after, I began to regret my actions. Dreams of my daughter plagued my nights. It was a constant torment. And so, I began to retrace my steps through the adoption agency.
I found my daughter. She was in her 20s. It was hard to believe that more than 20 years had passed already. She was already a woman. My absence in her life had made me love her dearly, but I couldn’t bring myself to introduce myself to her, so I watched her from the shadows. From the shadows, I watched and imagined how it must have been for her never to know her birth parents. I wished I could turn the hand of time back. But it isn’t imperative now. She seemed happy, calm. She had her mother smile, her hair and everything else. Then one day, she vanished.
I searched for her everywhere. I promised myself that once I find her now, I’ll introduce myself to her once and for all. I was desperate. Two weeks nothing, three weeks nothing. Then on one frigid Sunday morning, I saw the news.
I couldn’t stare at her remains. I couldn’t even hear about how she died. It wasn't significant. So I waited another week. Prepared a potent poison, went to the field she was found, drank the poison, laid on my back. And imagined the life we could’ve had. It all started with love, and now it ended with death. If I couldn’t be with my daughter in life, then I’d be with her in death.
Now I had a rational definition for love; it's all about the chemistry of life and death. Eyes closed.
Captivating! Well done
This is sweet and sad at the same time. Well done, Tolu🙌.