Back in my secondary school, I remember how every classroom wall had inscriptions on them. In every corner, there was always a writing on it. Those short phrases on the school walls seemed like discolorations at the time. Though it was largely illegal to be involved in such acts, students indulged in them anyway.
It became a thing across public schools (I couldn’t tell for private schools), where this common saying became a work of art of some sort. I could bet schools that have been left untouched since my time still had those little writings intact, and what was it that was commonly written? ‘Forget me not, (inserts a name/nickname)’ or ‘I was here’
As in ‘Forget me not, Ayomide,’ ‘Forget me not your senior, Themmy,’ ‘Immaculate was here,’ ‘Sholex was here’
It didn’t mean much to some of us who weathered the urge to pick up our markers and chalks. I could be certain that it didn’t mean much to the ones that had their names written too. There was no thoughtful motive behind it and for most, they had forgotten they ever penned their names on the walls of a school they had left behind decades ago.
Casting my mind back to that juvenile stunt now, I could line out a motivating force as to why people had to do it. That action makes a lot of sense now. Walk with me on this.
If you look at humans, you will find a common trait that underlies us. You will find that each of us has a primal need to persist. Whatever the race, the color, the religion, there is a universal need to remain beyond now. Everybody wants to keep existing beyond their timeframe of relevance.
We all want to be here, to live, and more importantly, to outlive. This desire is quiet in all of us. It moves within us with subtleness. Beyond being recognized in our present-day life and our current endeavor, we like to attach a remnant of us today in a bid to keep persisting tomorrow.
That explains why somewhere in the world, someone just finished up his building and is planning to carve out his name in one corner of the wall. I’ve seen rich people name their large mansions after themselves. I have seen average-class house owners name a two-bedroom apartment after themselves and even give it all manner of titles including villa.
When we were much younger, we used to nomenclate our books like it was a contest. We wrote on front pages, middle pages, across the sheets, back pages, and even on the margins, and sometimes we wrapped up a book with an expired calendar and painted it up with our names.
We express this desire in the big things and the little. Through power, possession, wealth, and the mundane things.
A man will take his life and leave a suicide note for his wife and children. A wealthy man will prepare for his departure and leave a will behind for his family. A professor somewhere is refusing to be referred to as ‘Mr.’ and will do everything to underscore his true status. A couple just gave birth and they can’t wait to christen the child. A Ferrari owner thinks the best way to cruise his ride around town is with a customized plate number. A man just received God’s call and has named the ministry after himself. Every authored book has the original name of the author boldly written on the front page. Someone has just constructed a swimming pool and tiled his name at the bottom of the pool. Most charity organizations carry the full names of their owners.
We all love the sound of our names. We treasure gifts that bear our names more. We plant and scatter our faces across the internet, for no particular reason, even if for 24 hours. One room, ten framed pictures. Our desire to be relevant runs deeper than what we are aware of.
We build a family because we are more frightened by the thought of leaving this world without anybody through whom we are certain to persist.
This stands as quite the summary of the whole essence of survival. We don’t want to exit in a hurry, not without something that can represent us while we are gone. This is our innate ultimate drive.
Sometimes, we feel it is not enough to just do well in life, own basic things, be able to afford a comfortable life, and do well for ourselves; we want more, at least that is the quiet feeling that runs within us.
Most of us will not be remembered for too long. We are no history-makers. We are no presidents. We are no philosophers. We are no Einstein. There are only a handful of Einsteins walking the face of this earth at the moment, and even for every generation. But we are all in the race, we are all in the struggle for the same end — to be remembered that we lived here. That like the millions that have gone ahead and coming behind us, we tried too.
We are always trying to reach into the future. That to our best capacity, we will be remembered for living, for loving, for crying, for laughing, for struggling, for succeeding, for impacting, for building, and that we played our part.
There is an inbred aspiration to prove to some unknown people who will live here long after we are gone that we were here, once. It’s a race that none of us fully understand and, sadly, will never even live long enough to find out.
Looking at things from this perspective, we can see what binds us together as humanity. You can understand why people do the things that they do for themselves, and for the ones they love. It is this pursuit for persistence beyond this realm that serves as the rationale behind most behaviors and decisions.
You can judge people fairly when you know what their drive is. Sometimes, you can manage a nod of empathy in the direction of others because you can work out the fact that we are all victims of a plot we do not fully comprehend.
We are all out here convincing ourselves that we matter. We are hoping that someday someone out there believes that. We are hoping that the generations coming behind us will see the prints of our feet on the sand of time.
It’s the highest point of reward for lasting so long and going through it all. And hopefully, you and I get what we’re looking for.
End.
Note: This is not a unanimous opinion, it’s just what I think. Do let me know your thoughts after reading through.
Thank you!
One response
This is thoughtful.