Ashes of truth: a photographer’s revelation, by ‘Dayo Adedayo

Photography, to me, has always been more than the capturing of smiles at parties or the rendering of likenesses in portraiture.

In Nigeria, the understanding of photography is often confined to social events, but in truth, there are over 300 genres of photography, many of which remain unexplored in our land. It is with this conviction that I say: we have not truly begun the journey of photography in Nigeria.

Over thirty years ago, I embarked on a personal and professional odyssey. With my beloved Canon EOS 1, a 35mm film camera I purchased in 1990.

I spent nearly two weeks inside a crematorium, documenting the quiet, sacred process of cremation. In that moment, I was at my creative peak. I didn’t know it then, but I was capturing my most meaningful body of work to date.

The experience left an indelible mark on my soul. It reminded me that life is fleeting, and death is the only certainty. Rich or poor, celebrated or forgotten, powerful or powerless, we all arrive at the same destination.

It is only in the seconds we are breathing that we can claim ownership of this life. The very next moment belongs to our Creator.

The cremator itself is a sacred mechanism of accountability and dignity. Before it can be activated, three individuals must sign in, a measure put in place to ensure that no person can destroy evidence of foul play without oversight. Even two conspirators could be thwarted by this check. Only with three signatures does the system allow access.

The process begins with the burning chamber, pre-heated to temperatures reaching between 760°C to 980°C (1400°F to 1800°F). Once the coffin enters, it is consumed by intense flames and then guided to the gas chamber, where the body continues to break down. The final phase is the cooling chamber, where the remaining bones, calcified and brittle, are crushed into powder. What is left is a fine ash, presented to the family in an urn, a silent monument to a life once lived.

Every part of the process is overseen with meticulous care. Checks are done to ensure that no wrong name or body is cremated. Precision and reverence meet here at the crossroads of technology and mortality.

In the arc of my professional journey, I have documented countless themes, architecture, culture, landscapes, and people, but none has held a mirror to my soul like this. I often pray that someone in my lineage, more enlightened and knowledgeable than I, will one day pick up this work and show the world how creatives think, feel, and interpret the human experience.

After nearly 61 years on this beautiful blue planet, I now know that all that truly matters is love. And yet, this love, the most essential gift, is the hardest to find. It can not be bought with money, earned through power, or traded for fame. Those who have it often take it for granted. Those who don’t spend a lifetime searching.

So I say this to anyone who beholds these images: Reflect. Reflect on your life. Reflect on what you will be remembered for. In the words of the evergreen song by Chief Commander Ebenezer Obey released in 1973, “A lowo ma jaye, eyin le mo, awon to jaye l’an da, won ti ku, won ti lo”. (“Those who had the wealth to enjoy life, but refused to enjoy it, those who truly enjoyed life yesterday, where are they? They are gone, they are no more.”)

I also hold tightly to the truth of Yoruba cosmology:

“À kún lè yàn, òhun ni à d’áyé wá bá; a dé ilé ayé tán, ni ojú wá ńkán gbogbo wa. (“We have chosen the circumstances into which we are born; we come into the world, and we are now in a hurry to get to our destination.)

This proverb, like the process of cremation itself, is a reminder that we are but temporary travellers, passing through. The world is older than us, and it will remain long after we are gone.

May these photographs and words ignite a spark in every heart that we may live deeply, love fiercely, and chase not shadows but purpose.

For when the camera of life stops clicking, it is the memories we leave behind, not the possessions we gathered, that speak for us.

And in that final moment, when all is reduced to ashes, may we be remembered for how much we loved.

May we love Nigeria with our hearts, our hands, and our hopes.

May Nigeria love us back with peace, dignity, and opportunity.

May we love one another, across every difference, as one people.

May Nigeria succeed in spirit and truth.

May Nigeria be blessed in every corner, every child, every dream.

And may Nigeria rise, bold, beautiful, and united.

This is my prayer.
This is my hope.
This is my Nigeria.