A dead person is dead, for real. Once pronounced dead, the economic importance of the dead diminishes greatly.

It doesn’t matter if the dead is Queen Elizabeth II or, Herbert Wigwe, or the Enugu woman who took her three children to a police station in Ogui and ran into an oncoming vehicle in a suicidal mission.

Whether the final rites of the person is a festival or a minor gathering, the final destination is the same – deep in the ground somewhere. Not even those Indians who cremate their bodies enjoy a better fate, nor those Tibetans who scatter the bodies of their loved ones on a mountaintop to decompose or leave for scavenging animals like vultures to eat. A dead person is dead, for real.

The dead are useful for just three reasons. One is the body as manure for plants whose roots are lucky to reach the burial spot. The second is for the body as food for organisms in the soil who will feast on it, oblivious of the greatness of the dead when they were alive. The third usefulness of any dead person is how those of us who are left, just like ants, plants, microbes, and roots, feed on the body of stories the dead left behind.

Sometimes, people die, their stories get lost, and so will the lessons from their lives. When we preserve the stories in the memories of those left behind, the lessons in those stories enrich us all.

People have said a lot about the stories of Herbert Wigwe that have emerged following the California helicopter accident that took his life and that of his wife and son. Some were fascinated by his relationship with his Redeemed Christian Church of God parish and how the pastor’s wife celebrated her 60th birthday a few days after Wigwe’s passing. Some were mesmerized by how he rose to become the CEO of Access Bank and one of the titans of Nigeria’s business elite. For others, it was the disgusting performance of the Nigerian senate president, Godswill Akpabio, at Wigwe’s funeral that made them ponder.

For this piece, I want to emphasize the story of Wigwe and Sanusi Lamido, the former CBN governor and Emir of Kano. In his tribute to Wigwe, Sanusi told how wigwe came to his rescue when Gov. Abdullahi Ganduje dethroned him as the Emir of Kano. According to Sanusi, Ganduje had planned to send him to exile for years. But his friend, Wigwe, picked him and his family up in a private jet and brought him to Lagos. Wigwe lodged Sanusi and his family in a hotel and later rented a prepaid apartment for them.

Once we die, everything that we have becomes irrelevant. The moment we are pronounced dead, our cars, gold, mansions, bank accounts, juju, and those pricy reconstructed butts, become immaterial. What will take us on that long journey through space, time, and immortality is what we give. Have you given enough to take you through that journey to that great beyond? Time is ticking!

Nice reminder

Every one dies at some point and no lesson to learn.

Good food for thought.

Death is inevitable and unavoidable. We all came to this world from God Almighty one day we all shall return to him