On Obituary, and the Nigeria Blues (1)

The last three weeks have proved critical times in my life. It was a period of mixed feelings as I went through the process of making a reality the top most wish of every responsible child in this world. And by extension, the dream of every parent. The prayer of every man or woman is to give his or her parents deserving and colouful  send off when the final curtain is drawn for them.
It was indeed a great honour for me and my siblings to bury our departed father three Saturdays ago. There was no doubt that we were lucky to have been been fathered by this great and loving man – Chief John Alabi. A perfect gentleman who was incomparable to any other father. A great educationist who imparted so much in the lives of many people he came across in his career as a teacher. He was a worthy example of a patriotic citizen, who served his country not for personal gains or riches but with a mission to leave behind a good name for future generations.
How heart warming it was to read the tributes of illustrious people who had at one time or the other interacted with our father. They were all in praise of him as an easy going, down to earth and very loving individual who was ever open in his dealings. I am proud to say that the riches of this world did not appeal to him in any form. Infact in his private chats with us, the biological children, he marvelled at the selfish nature of some human beings who accumulate so much wealth while their neighbours struggle to feed.
In his simplicity, we realised we had enormous responsibilities on our hands to cater for the diverse crowd that would witness the burial ceremony of this great man. We knew he was a man with a large heart, who dined with the masses and also felt so relaxed in the company of kings and the royals. We also realised that by his works and love for fellow human beings, his funeral would not be an ordinary event in the calendar.
To make life easier for me, a few days to the ceremonies, I “took flight” from all the daily news of terrorism, migrants, economic recessions, corruption and many others. I effectively “tuned” myself out to concentrate on the only important thing that mattered. Sometimes, and if not most times, the news of war, famine, failures, murders etc far and near can bring depression to a “light headed” fellow.
Writing an obituary for one’s father, I realised, was indeed a very tasking job. After many attempts I managed to write one in which I condemned death for snatching the “young man” from us a few days to his eighty fifth birthday in April. To be honest, until his final breath I never in any form entertained the thought that my father “could die.” Do not get me wrongly, as I am fully aware that every man is appointed to die. But when you have a mentally active father with an intellectually sound mind the thoughts of death would be the last on your mind.



Check the Vanguard newspaper for the full story.