Author: Moses Khisa. PHOTO/FILE
Last week, I arrived home in Bubulo. Two days later, one of my sisters, Aisha Khaola, departed from the life of this world in shocking circumstances. She was 52.
A loving and lively person, unfailingly empathetic and a woman of extraordinary fortitude who raised four daughters as a single mother, my sister fought hard but ultimately lost the battle. Her death was deeply devastating.
The burial was a hugely emotional affair. In performing the rather daunting task of presenting her life journey of more than half a century to a large crowd of mourners, when I got to the bit of outlining the genesis and climax of the health complications that finally claimed her life, I broke down in a manner I could not control.
Not for the first time, to be sure. I suffered a similar emotional exhaustion and overwhelming sorrow while delivering my father’s life report in December 2018. Even though Mzee departed at the ripe age of 90, nevertheless, his death left me utterly shattered.
Also, for the second time—the first in 2018 when my old man signed off—I made the long trip across the Atlantic for what was a routine visit home only for Aisha to depart.
Unlike Mzee, who afforded me a light-hearted chat and lively conversation in the final hours of his life, and without the slightest signal he would soon be no more, my sister Aisha offered no such final moments. She was in a coma in hospital when I got there last Wednesday. She never managed to pull off a turnaround to a better state of health.
Death is a perfect equaliser. In fact, there is none like it. In the final analysis, it is a rude reminder of the fleeting nature of the life of this world. It is a mystery.
For those who believe in life after death—and I must confess I am unsure of that fact, to say the least—there is solace in hanging onto the possibility of carrying on from the other side or ascending to meet the Creator for a permanent stay in heaven or hell.
Yet, whatever one’s convictions on the actual meaning of death, for which there is no last word, mourning a loved one is also a time to reflect on the essence of life, to think deeply about what life means both at individual and societal levels.
It is both a philosophical and practical question. On the one hand, we have to ask why we live or what we live for. On the other, we must pause to reflect on what we do that brings meaning to life.
It is one of the biggest ironies of life that the spectre of death does not necessarily compel human beings to be more empathetic, humble, and to have humility—well aware of the limits of humanity and the uncertainty of the longevity of life.
Given the unpredictability of life, despite statistical reasoning that assigns higher chances of death to older people than young ones, we would logically expect human beings to recognise the inherent shortness of life. In fact, we would appreciate the sheer lack of absolute powers to determine how long one lives and the absence of guarantees or the freedom to choose when to leave this world.
In some Western societies today, old people can choose to depart through assisted suicide. But before they get to that point of wanting to sign out, in their previous years when they still wanted to live, they had no assured way of living for any specified period. That is, they did not have full and firm control of how long to live—it is all down to chance.
Rather than harken back to the limits of our humanity, to recognise the constraints of life and the fleeting fact of our lives, to do good, to show compassion and care for others—shockingly, human beings are often defined by cruelty and criminal behaviour against fellow humans.
In some societies, this depravity now includes a tendency for some people to show deep love for non-humans while displaying crass attitude and inhumanity towards fellow human beings.
Among the privileged classes, there is a proclivity to amass wealth and attain exaggerated material wellbeing, mostly by dint of corrupt and other dubious means, in total disregard of the rest of society and the common good for all. Yet, when the moment of reckoning arrives, however much big money one has, it is unlikely to save their life.
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Around the world today—from Rwanda and Congo to Russia and Ukraine, Israel against Iran, the two Koreas against each other, in Sudan and South Sudan—human beings have assembled deadly guns against other humans in wars that are utterly destructive yet callously pursued.
In these wars, I must add, it is the most vulnerable and innocent civilians who are often the victims of fights for power and privilege.
