On: Toilet Bowls & Mattresses
There's something oddly illuminating about taking a comfortable shit and pondering on all of life's existential questions.
I am starting to realize that sometimes I do my best writing when I'm in the loo. There's something oddly illuminating about taking a comfortable shit and pondering on all of life's existential questions. I say "comfortable" because I remember my erstwhile days of humble beginnings when I stayed at a face-me-I-slap-you apartment where for about ten (10) tenants (children not included) we had just one water flushable latrine, which you had to squat over to take a dump in. And I remember sometimes it being so late in the night that I'd be scared to go to the back of the compound where the latrine was situated because I was sure the larger-than-life Lagos ghetto rats would be out and about trying to vie for their daily meal.
Eww, right? Sounds nasty when I describe it like that, I know, but trust me it was much worse. But hey, look at me now. Five years later and I'm sitting comfortably on my clean Anchor model toilet bowl, bright energy saver bulb to illuminate my eyes, no rats to contend with, no painful squatting, no need to hold a torchlight in my mouth just so I can find my balance and not step on anything yucky; basically, none of all that latrine stuff that was once a defining moment of what my existence was back then. No more being poor (I think).
I do believe that one of the true tests to know whether you have moved up in life or not, should be as simple as taking note of the kind of toilet you now use, privately. For me, five years ago, I moved from a latrine to an Anchor model toilet bowl (but not the very modern push-to-flush type, even though this type is just as effective). So, I guess I can say to myself that I have moved up in life a bit. As such, I should probably be on the lookout for the next kind of toilet I would have access to, to be sure if I have moved up further in life or to confirm if I am still stuck in my very own toilet bowl complacency.
The truth is, as much as these days I do not often find myself thinking back to the days of me living alone in a face-me-I-slap-you apartment, whenever I do think about it, I almost always have a smile across my face. It's a smile that I figured stems from the memories of how much back then, I never saw myself in the place I am today, despite being such a wild daydreamer. I remember being keen, back then, about making some sort of mark for myself and doing something that would make me proud of myself, however, I just never thought that one of those things would be me taking up podcasting or becoming an author of my very own novel by the end of the year 2020.
Notwithstanding, I know for a fact that when people often speak of humble beginnings there's this novelty of dreams that comes attached with it. The story usually goes something like “the poor and struggling young man/woman who dreamed of one day moving out of the ghetto and into a mansion was able to beat the odds after a couple of hard years and the stars aligned and then he/she made it to the pinnacle of financial success. The end”. Basically, the typical grass-to-grace tale is always going to be a best seller. And I reckon that for anyone who has been or currently is in a similar situation, it is quite often easy to latch on to such ideals no matter how much you try to convince yourself of how you don't believe in fairy tales or fairy tale endings.
But that's the thing I disagree with because I strongly believe that every single one of us, whether you choose to see yourself as an optimist or a pessimist or even a realist, all do – often hopelessly – believe in fairy tales; in particular, fairy tale endings. The one difference is that for some of us, the pixie dust of the fairy that tells our story only slightly grazes our skins in our entire lifetime, and instead of a complete Cinderella-like transformation, we learn to make peace with whatever parts of our experiences we can see as magical. Indeed, for some of us, we often realize, quite early on, that the best fairy tale ending we may ever get might be as profound as noticing the difference between the kind of toilets we were used to before and the type we now have access to. Yes, for some of us, it is the little comforts that speak volumes.
I don't intend to sound bleak or uninspiring, but it would be dishonest to not want to admit that there is a high probability that where you are in life at this very moment might just be the very climax of your fairy tale story, regardless of how much you would love for there to be a sequel. Who knows, maybe authoring my first novel might just be it for me – Mifa's first and only novel was “Heartbeat” and his tale ends there! Now, do not get me wrong though, by saying the tale ends there I do not mean, death or anything sinister-like, rather something more like "the pursuit for ambitious transcendence ends here". Maybe for some of us, there is no other level of achievement (for lack of a better word) that precedes what we already have or are experiencing now. And I reckon this might not even be for a lack of not trying hard enough to improve our lives or not being ambitious, but simply because the truth of our individual realities, may often just be balanced on a certain threshold of futility that our capabilities cannot just exceed.
Yes, I know I said I do not intend to sound bleak, (although at this point a lot of this is sounding quite bleak) however, I believe that sometimes the real reason why fairy tales are so desirable does not lie in the happy endings that they portray but more in the memorable but mundane moments that make up the entirety of the story’s journey. So, indeed, whilst where you are right now in life might (I say “might” because I am not Nostradamus) just be the height of whatever creativity boost or success high or love transformation that you may ever have, it is worth noting that you can still choose to enjoy the memorable and mundane moments of your fairy tale regardless of how the story might end.
Comedian, Jerrod Carmichael once made a joke in his HBO special titled “8” about how he believed that if there was a sequel to the children's fairy tale movie classic, Cinderella, chances are the sequel would be much darker and one of the opening scenes would probably be of Prince Charming, drunk, stressed and yelling at Cinderella saying "I picked you up from the gutter, bitch!" (Trust me it sounded much funnier when he says it. Go check out the special on HBO). The point is, despite how the story of your life might turn out in the long stretch (or even on a shorter stretch) or how much you (like me) still daydreams of getting to tell your grass-to-grace story to audiences across the globe, as you stop world hunger and find a cure for cancer; despite your fears of never being more than you can be capable of or never being able to break past the glass ceiling of the circumstances that keeps you trapped, what truly matters is never so much about how the story of your life ends or if you were able to see all your daydreams come to fruition whilst winning a Nobel prize, but more about how much you choose to cherish the memories of every mundane moment that make up the plot of your life's story.
Basically, in aspire-to-perspire motivational lingo, all I am saying is that as humans on this earth, in this universe of nothingness, it is best we enjoy the journey of every moment of our lives – good or bad – and choose not to dwell so much on the fairy tale ending that we hope will crown the essence of our existence. Indeed, most of us won't have paeans sung for us in the future or books written for us to celebrate our lofty achievements but I reckon it would be worth saying we have lived a sort of satisfactory life if those closest to us can at least remember our mundane moments as people just trying our best to live, love and get to use comfortable toilets.
And just in case anyone was wondering, I am no longer writing this sitting on my toilet bowl, instead, I am, at this very moment, lying on my 7-by-7 sized mattress, which is super comfortable. To the left side of my bed, right behind my desk where I have my podcast microphone mounted, wrapped in a dusty protective cover, is the beat-down mattress I used back when I still lived in my face-me-I-slap-you apartment. This mattress was given to me as a gift by a couple in the very same face-me-I-slap-you apartment when I first moved in. I believe they noticed I had only a rug in my room back then and they were kind enough to offer me this mattress to help. To this day, it still ranks as one of the most thoughtful gifts I ever got. And I guess this explains why, years after, even with a newer and better mattress, I still hold on to this older one because it reminds me of the mundane but memorable moments of a life that now seem like a distant memory.
That being said, I think I'm starting to realize that sometimes I do my best closings when I'm done taking a shit and back in my bed. There's something mundane but inherently memorable about lying on my bed and pondering on all of life's existential questions, as the warm arm of sleep embraces me.
Smiles.
For someone like who can relate with the stories (especially those ones you have written when you were still living at your face-me-I-slap-you apartment), it makes more sense reading this now and I can say that truly those feelings are different.
Your first novel was great read and I believe that there would be more you will still publish in no distant time.