Scent is almost synonymous with the feeling of nostalgia for me. It’s something that goes hand in hand. The scent of some things evokes memories and not just memories, I am transcended to a particular time, a certain event, a specific conversation.
And most of the time, the nostalgia comes so strongly because of a single whiff. My senses get pricked and I’m immediately transported. So, I just sit down and bask in all the memories that follow, till the scent goes away and I can move on to something else.
One day last week, I woke up quite early and went outside. And I caught the scent of Moringa. I don’t know if someone was using a Moringa-based soap or drinking Moringa tea but suddenly I was mentally transported to the boarding house and I started smiling. The memory was of a particular girl that used only moringa soaps. I ran out of bathing soap and pleaded that she permitted me to use it for just that morning and that I’d buy a bar of soap later.
She opened her locker and removed the soap packet out of the numerous ones she has and gave it to me. Saying I should keep it. I told her that I couldn’t possibly take the whole bar but she said she wouldn’t be able to use it after someone had used it anyways. Quite snooty to me but I couldn’t complain. It was a win-win.
I won’t lie. The Moringa soap smelt weird. It wasn’t so pleasant to the average eye but it was unique and though I had to add more layers of my cocoa cream on myself to make sure the scent of the soap wasn’t overpowering, I enjoyed using the soap till it eventually finished.
I came back from the memories after my mind wandered to the annoyance and irritation associated with mornings in the dormitory. The smiles, the fights, the thrill and the rush. The scent of the moringa that the neighbour had been using wore off but I relished that particular memory a whole lot.
Before then, it was the scent of a particular tomato stew. I shared that particular memory with my sister who brought it to my attention.
“Tess, do you remember this stew?” My sister gasped.
And I smiled because it had been ages since I perceived it. I don’t know if the modern tomato pastes had reduced in quality because I knew that tomato mixes like that were only present in my childhood. A bright red flask appeared in my eye. That flask would contain rice with tomato stew that my Mum would bring with us to Sunday services.
I remember being about four then. And after the first service, she’d gather my elder sister and me and feed us from that red flask before we attend the next service. I smiled so hard and asked my sister why Mum’s stews didn’t taste like that anymore. We perused the possible reasons even though it was useless. The smell had gone, taking the blissful memory with it.
And finally this morning, I caught a whiff of a cologne that sent me running to find its owner. I’d not perceived that scent in more than five years. It was the most unique cologne ever and it belonged to my high school crush. He was the only one with that scent ever and it was masculine and incredibly nice to my teenage mind.
I remember one day when I sat with him talking about various things. We spent hours with each other and for some reason, when I got home, the scent was all over my uniform. I was delirious with happiness. I hung the shirt in my wardrobe and vowed never to wash or wear it so that the scent won’t go away. And so every night and day, I’d take a whiff of it and I’d be content. Makes me cringe so hard now. But I still laugh anyway.
I followed the scent till I found a guy and I asked him where he got his cologne. Quite bold of me. But he said he’d gotten it from his trip to Germany. I remember my crush saying that time that he’d gotten the cologne from his brother in Germany and so I asked the guy if he was related to him and surprise, surprise, it was actually his brother.
The beauty of scents is in the stories that come with it, with the memories they hold, and with the feelings they evoke in us. It could be good, bad or downright disgusting but it’s still special in its own way.❤️