FOR THE RECENT DEAD

Nnanyere called me two days before his death. He was one of my cousins that always checked up on me just to make sure perhaps that this carnivorous city had not swallowed me. At times, he’ll send a “Happy New Month” text message wishing me well or just forward one of those messages that called down a floodgate of blessings on one’s head. Two days before that, he had sent me a text informing me of his Matriculation ceremony at the Enugu State University of Science and Technology. “Broda, imagwo le ob’g obere iphe” “It’s no small feat”, he enthused. I agreed, aware that he had waited four long years to get admitted. He said he needed new clothes to keep up with the undergraduate status. Again, I agreed. “Then, there ought to be beers and pictures”, he chirped excitedly half-laughing. And I agreed yet again and asked for his account number. Alas, that text message was the very last communication I had with him.



I readily confess to a personal weakness: I’m powerless before death; it numbs me. I believe there is always a critical psychological moment in one’s adult life when one comes to a sudden, shocking realization of death and all it’s varied consequences. My awakening, if you may so call it, came with the death of my bosom friend Ojide Henry in the year 2000. On a subconscious level, you begin to come to terms with how much you are diminished by death…any death. The English philosopher-poet John Donne is often quoted as having said ‘Every man’s death diminishes me because I’m involved in humanity’.  Death shatters something palpable in the human spirit.  One is confronted by its illogicality…its absolute finality. And worse when it is a death like Nani’s that one owns so intimately!



Within my extended family, death had hitherto assumed a certain sanity, it knew its place: the grey and grizzled go before the young and youthful. So, Uncle Raphael, my grandpa Papa Ugwuode and Uncle Jacob….we grow old and we die.  One has indeed assumed illogically that death had itself assumed its ‘proper’ modus operandi :That we all go in the order we came. Then, Nnanyere! At the prime of a life replete with dreams and promises! And one is powerless. A powerlessness further underscored by a lack of understanding which sadly is the nature of mysteries. Of course, it is possible to totally expunge from the psyche such an enervating emotion by a complete comprehension of the pain-inducing experience. With death, you lose every time! There is no logic, no answer, no modus operandi.



So why Nnanyere? Vivacious Nnayere! Our people have a phrase for his convivial disposition towards us: omar’ egh’ nwenne ( He is a superlative relative). The last time we were together was at Virgins’ Spot in my hometown of Ukehe at Christmas. I was with my brother Jnr. Pope, the Nollywood star. We all drank hot bottles of beer since the mammoth crowd at the venue had depleted the hotel’s stock of cold drinks. We talked about his dreams and plans? “Why Economics?” “Why ESUT?” “Why not UNN where you have people?” “Who is your girlfriend?” And he laughed freely and poured out his heart to me. He trusted me in a totally disarming manner. Then, in a flash, he was all over Jnr. Pope taking pictures and proclaiming to all who cared to listen that we were his GOOD brothers. He said it sincerely, innocently…the way a child says chocolate is good. Nnanyere was fundamentally propelled by a commitment to the ideals of life: love, forgiveness, happiness etc. He was one who lived in the moment; one who bore no grudges…the first son of his father. And all his dreams – dreams the size of cathedrals- now lie wasted and dead before our eyes. Fiery flames turned to weak embers in one tragic fall!



My cousin Onyebo pinged on my Blackberry Messenger at 8:43pm on the Friday Nnanyere was supposed to have matriculated to say he is dead. He fell from a seat he had stood on attempting to repair some electrical fault in the students’ lodge where he lived. He wanted merely to iron his matric cloth and look smart. (His Whatsapp profile reads: I’m the most unique guy in my department. *winks*) He fell from the seat, hit his head on the hard cement floor and died a while after. Before he died, he was long stranded in the crossroads of here and there, hanging in the darkness as he was rushed to three different hospitals before he died. Nnayere’s death is yet another reflection of both the state of health care in Nigeria, a sector that our thieving leaders expend millions of naira on yearly. But that’s a story for another day. And yet for another day is the story of the ignoble decision of the parish priest in Ukehe to deny Nnayere the privilege of a holy mass because he had not paid money to the parish!



So today, I mourn Nnayere! I mourn his youthfulness. I mourn his life cut short at the zenith of his life. Yet he cannot die if our interactions and experiences with him live in our memories. Our tears will water the seed of love he planted in our hearts and its efflorescence will overwhelm the blight that death has cast on our horizon.  For those who let pride, privilege, property, the amassing of wealth, even the rat race…for those who let mundane things (some of my cousins don’t talk to each other) come between their relationships with others, here is a lesson for them: Life is fleeting, shockingly ephemeral. In a family where the cracks of disunity and strife have long appeared, the response that I expect is not a reiteration of the varied aspects of sham mourning but a personal introspection geared towards a better relationship with one another. By this death, those who are convinced adherents to that principle of love for which Ngwunwiyoke my great grandfather is legendary should be reinforced in their conviction; the rest should be jolted to action. The ideal to which Nnanyere aspired –indeed to which every human being must aspire- is to live life in the service of others.



We do justice to his memory if we learn to love and help one another.

Rest eternal Nani King my good brother. I will miss you.