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Tribute to A Kudu By Oriabure Osayi Big brother, kind-hearted human, ebullient, brilliant, exuberant, enthusiastic, full of presence, selfless, concerned, empathic, funny and very humble. I am at a loss for words to describe my late friend and big brother Godwin Ovbiagele. He was the very definition of presence. His physical stature certainly meant you could not ignore him and his brilliance also meant you could not but bow to superior intelligence. Any way you looked at it, he could not be ignored. I saw him last in August of 2006 when I went back home for the first time in ten years after a long sojourn in the United States of America. I went to see him in his office at the GRA after wading through a river near the Government House. Alas, I thought, even the road that leads to the Government house has a river, so why should I complain if there is no road that leads to my village. I was in town for my mother’s funeral and I went to give him an invitation. He had promised to be there. We were family and I really mean that in the deepest sense of the word. We all grew up in the old neighborhood in Igun street. My family address was 69 Igun street, Benin City. I remember with nostalgia, the idyllic days of growing up. We had older fellows, big brothers who were in High School or University already who took it upon themselves to mentor the younger ones. Godwin Ovbiagele was the initiator and champion of this course. I am talking about 1972/1973. He organized his classmates to give the younger ones free lectures in Math, English and Geography free of charge. They taught us that we could not play all through our long vacation and they meant it in every way and made sure they filled our vacation time with plenty of study time. All of us kids from Igun street /Akpakpava street nexus in that era have turned out fine by the grace of God. We all went to College and I can count attorneys and Business executives, authors and writers among that bunch. All thanks to our big brothers of whom Godwin Ovbiagele was the undisputed champion. My meeting with him in his office of course was not without drama. When I arrived, I was asked to fill out a form to see the Honorable Commissioner for Health. I am American. We don’t fill out forms where we come from. We do not worship people where we come from. Where we come from, all men are born equal with certain inalienable rights and some of these include above everything else the right to the pursuit of happiness. So, we do not worship people. We love achievements. We applaud success but even that same hero today can be stopped for a traffic violation tomorrow and he will get a ticket and he will pay the fine and if he refuses to pay the fine, he will go to jail. And so I told the gentleman who was asking me to fill out a form that I was not here to see the Commissioner for Health but I was there to see my big brother. I asked him to go and announce to his boss simply that O’meekey was here to see him. It is as simple as that. I go by one name. There were at least 12 people sitting in his office for a meeting. He did not ask his assistant to tell me to wait. He did not tell his assistant to ask me to come in. He rose from his chair and came to the door to usher me in by himself. Anything less than that would have been a disappointment to me personally and would have sealed my hopes about the fact that our nation will yet be great again. Humility is a rare commodity among the people who rule us in every facet of our lives. I was introduced to the crowd around the table in terms which I thought were reserved for only people who have become governors and presidents. I felt very honored. I probably spent less than ten minutes in his office and one of the things I told him was that he should not let us down as many before him have done. He gave me his word and I know his word was currency. You could depend on him. You could count on him. After all he was big brother. I heard the news of his passing in Omaha, Nebraska. I was attending the graduation ceremony of my niece from the Creighton School of Pharmacy. Earlier on that afternoon we had been engaged in deep discussions with other Nigerians in diaspora as Nigerians do whenever we gather together. All we talk is politics with a deep sense of loss of what could have been in a nation so endowed that we could easily be numero uno. I had given illustrations of the ranking of Nigerian Universities in the seventies and how American degree holders had trouble finding employment in those days because of the superior education at home. No one believed me. They thought I was crazy until another Nigerian schooled gentleman with a Ph.D. in electrical engineering corroborated my position. This gentleman by himself is another story for another day. I am talking about people whose brains are so hot that the American government engages their services with all the protection and remunerations attached to guaranty existence for children yet unborn. These same people whom Nigeria produced but could not use. There was a medical doctor amongst us. She graduated from the University of Ife and is now a top ranking medical personnel in the city of Houston, Texas. There was also a young lady there who handles some of the toughest projects for Accenture as consultant. She is also Nigerian. Need I go on? Another loss to Nigeria. As I weep for my friend and big brother, I weep for Nigeria. He did not need to die. He did not have to die. His death, just like the exodus of many Nigerians to foreign countries to seek better lives that our country has refused to make possible, diminishes me. As John Donne said ‘The death of any man diminishes me. For whom the bell tolls I do not know. It tolls for me. It tolls for thee.’ Adieu big brother until we meet again on the other side. O’meekey.
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