the cemetery

death. on sunday,  i spent my morning in eastern, freetown attempting to re-do some of the photographs for my upcoming exhibition. As i walked through the bay, stopped to talk to people, photograph and hear stories, an older woman stopped me and said: " you nor ask me yet". I then walked towards her, apologized, sat beside her and said,  " sorry mama, mek we talk".

10 minutes later and water fills my eyes.  I want to cry for the first time, really cry and grieve for my grandmother. This older woman is regal, strong- her strength coming from her faith in Allah. Her story resonates through my veins, and i decide that right there that i love her. I love her resilience.

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the cemetery isn't too far from Bay, so I stopped at the gas station in Kissy to visit the cemetery.  I was already inspired by a friend who had taken photographs at that particular cemetery. I was also drawn to the dead: the old woman's story of the loss of her 6 children, my friend in Accra's recent loss of a close friend and the loss of my grandmother. 

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This is what i cam getting to really know about life, each mil-second is significant. we MUST cherish it, kiss it, wrap our bodies in the folds of each experience. we will cease to exist one day, as we are forced to participate in the greatest human equalizer-death.