To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die. Please join us mourn our brother, son and uncle who passed away too soon on June 28, 2015. Those we love don't go away, they walk beside us everyday. Unseen, unheard, but always near. Still loved, still missed and very near. Andre warmed and touched everyone with his smile. He enriched us with his kindness and love. His unique smile and cheerful spirit will always define him.
Program
Private Family Viewing: 4pm on July 23rd, 2015 at Jenkins Funeral Home
The following will take place on July 24th, 2015 at Church of the Ressurection
3315 Greencastle Road, Burtonsville, MD, 20866
Public Viewing: 6:30 pm to 8 pm.
Requiem Mass: 8 pm to 9:30 pm.
Reception and Wakekeeping: immediately after mass until 1 am.
Departure of Mortal Remains from Dulles International Airport: July 28th, 2015.
Arrival at Yaounde, Nsimalen Airport: July 30th, 2015.
Viewing and Wakekeeping at the Ngwa Nforbi Family Residence in Sonac Street, Bamenda: July 31st, 2015.
Viewing at the Ngwa Nforbi Family Residence in Mbebilli, Bafut: August 1st, 2015.
Followed by Requiem Mass at Saint Joseph's Catholic Church, Mambo, Bafut.
Burial immediately after mass.
Tributes
Leave a tributeYour compassionate soul and warm smile will forever be embedded in my memory. I enjoyed working with you as you brought nothing but your wholeheartedness in all situations faced. Nevertheless, you were always there when we needed your expertise in the unit. You have touched many lives and you are truly missed!!
Allynkate Pooran- ICU
Bon Secours Hospital
Baltimore, MD
But I can still remember that as a little boy, you had all the germs of a very successful gentleman. You were naturally brilliant and intelligent and yes you brought home good results all the time. You were hardworking, curious, and an ambitious young man. You were also very playful as a little boy, you loved to crack jokes and play games and Lord knows you were full of energy and good health.
You were talented too, you had a good voice, a wonderful baritone and you sang beautifully. You were quite reserved, with a gentlemanly attitude, and your smile…. a very genuine one, I can still see it in all those photos… And yes, that is what I want to keep with me always …the smile. And I know that if God decided to have you with Him at this point in time, then you are definitely smiling from up above. Keep smiling and pray for us, until we meet again. Coco.
In my memories you're always smiling. You had a presence; your kind and good spirit just shined. You were polite, gentlemanly, and completely charming. You and your loved ones are in my thoughts and prayers.
Lisa Leonard (Derby)
University of Maryland, '09
Hi "Captain Dre" on behalf of myself and the 2001 entering class of St Bede's College Ashing, I want to say thank you. Thank you for your kindness, your gentleness, your leadership and your friendship.
Very few will understand why I refer to you as captain. I remember the first time I saw you in St Bede's, you walked with a commanding/leadership demeanor. Your classmates respected you and underclassmen looked to you for advice. You took us the form 1 students under your wings and made sure we were treated fairly especially in the boy's dormitory. Although this lasted for just a year, we remembered you even after you left St Bede's. We told stories about you to incoming classes and painted a vivid picture of how charismatic you were.
The day I met Joseph and he told me you were his elder brother, I hugged him several times and shouted joyfully. Joseph was surprised but understand where I was coming from because he knew how charismatic you were. Going through undergrad with Joseph was sorta like a continuation of the time from St Bede's.
Hearing of your passing brought a sudden heaviness to my heart that only a few will understand. The circumstances surrounding your passing have numerous similarities to the circumstances surrounding the passing of my late brother, Derrick. The same age, the same month of passing and the same mechanism of passing. Joseph was there for me every step of the way and for that I thank your family.
Jesus told the daughters of Jerusalem not to weep for him but for themselves and their children because he knew where he was going was filled with Joy and Happiness. It is comforting to know that you are there now for although we lost a friend, brother, son, uncle or cousin, we gained an Angel. Till we meet again Captain.
1st National Vice President SHESA 39
President SHESA 39 Bda.
Eric Amene, RN BSN
Menthal Health Department.
Bon Secours Hospital
Baltimore, Maryland.
The Lord giveth life. And He has a plan -- for His Word says all His plans are good. Faithful servant He decided it was your time. May your gentle soul rest in perfect peace Amen. Rest peacefully in the bosom of Our Lord Jesus Christ.
It is well.
From Enaka
On Behalf of Enaka, Adig Njoh and family.
So Andre, why did you leave us so soon. I know you don't have an answer for that but the almighty father who created us. I needed to ask because it is had for us to comprehend. From all the adjectives used so far to describe you, I can only imagine what a force you would have been in this world to help others if you were given more time. Something that we desperately need in Bafut. I am grateful for the lives you have changed in your short stay on this earth.
The big smiles I see on all the pictures posted here just tell me that you will erase any sadness in any room that you are present. Use that smile now to request help from the almighty one to shower blessings on all those you have left behind who are filled with grief and sorrow, which is something that your smile would have taken away here on earth. It is really true that good things do not last. You are a pure example of that because you have positively touched so many lives during your short time on this planet. You have lifted so many out of their frustration. Only the good Lord knows where to place you but we ask you to continue to look after those you have left behind from your throne above. I believe that throne is more desirable than that of being your father's successor here.
You have joined your father in the heavenly choir and I can see that your big smile looking down on all of us here who are trying to understand why. Rest in perfect peace little one in the bosom of your father.
The Tanifor Family of Mambu - Bafut
I remember when you were born. Daddy told me that Mummy had trouble giving birth to you because you were too big but that just as the doctors were preparing to operate, you miraculously showed up. I am told that the nurses fell in love with you instantly, calling you “Mola” as you were born on Buea soil, and Mummy recounts they would take turns carrying you and showing you off and she will only see you when it was time for you to be fed. We your older siblings were all grown enough to really enjoy you. We lavished you with kisses and fought for turns to carry you.
I remember the events around your naming. Daddy had just returned from his Master’s Degree studies in Canada where he had gotten to learn about Brother Andre Albert Bessett, a friar of the order of Holy Cross, who had facilitated the building of the Oratory of Saint Joseph in Montreal. When Daddy said you will be named Andre, we did not like the name and we each set out to propose names for you. When I saw that daddy was relentless, I suggested that you be called Albert which will still be after the friar. Daddy chuckled and said gently “Mama, his name is Andre”. And so you were called Andre. Your name-sake was canonized a Saint in 2010. No body questioned that you were called “ Niba Bayong” after daddy’s only brother who we fondly called “Papa”. We all loved Papa and so “Papa” was one of your frequently used nicknames.
You grew up with this air of magic around you. You seemed to charm everyone who came in contact with you. I remember when you, I and daddy went to Marche Centrale in Yaounde to buy our first TV set. You were 4 years old then. The merchant literally gave that TV away because he was so enamored by you.
You must have been about 7 years old. There were certain foods you did not “like” and would refuse to eat them. You were frequently lucky that daddy would buy meat pie from Beno Bakery so you could say “no” to the foods you didn’t like much to mummy’s dismay. This one day, Mummy cooked kwacoco and groundnut soup. You vehemently refused to eat lunch. Daddy came back with no meat pie that day. You were upset and Mummy tried to coax you into eating and you refused and went to siesta hungry. While everyone “slept” the pots in the kitchen suddenly became noisy. Mummy and I almost immediately got up and went to investigate. We saw you peeling off the leaves from one kwacoco. You had your back turned to us so we quietly returned to our rooms. By dinner time, 2 kwacocos had disappeared from the pot. Mummy later begged Daddy not to bring home those meat pies so you could eat real food. He still did but just a little less frequently.
I remember how passionate you were about soccer. At about age 8, we lived in the second story of Dr Amin’s apartment homes in Yaounde. There was only one way out of the apartment and that was through the parlor. You wanted to go downstairs and play football (soccer) with your friends. Mummy and daddy refused and asked you to go to your room and do your homework. The rest of us were sitting in the parlor when suddenly we heard a voice that sounded like yours screaming “pass the ball to me; pass the ball to me.” We ran to the veranda and saw in disbelief that it really was you covered in sweat and dust. We wondered how you had gotten downstairs and mummy asked you to come upstairs immediately and explain yourself. You went to the balcony that was attached to their bedroom and pointed to a piece of twine that was still dangling on the railing where you had tied it and climbed down. I could see Mummy and Daddy go pale and I knew what was going through their minds because it was the same thing that was going through my mind. We were all thinking about what would have happened had you fallen onto the concrete floor of Dr Amin’s driveway. Mummy and Daddy were just too stunned at such a feat to admonish you. I heard Mummy quietly say to you “Niba, go downstairs through the door and play.” This nothing-can-stop-me-from-getting- what-I-want attitude has led you to find solutions even to the most difficult of problems. As an adult, you woke up early to work out before going to work. Looking and feeling fit were important to you.
I remember when you passed the Common Entrance Exam and it was time to choose a Secondary School. Daddy had his mind set on giving one of his sons to God as a priest and it was you he had chosen and so he said you will go to Bishop Rogan College. You vehemently refused as you wanted to go to Sacred Heart College like your big brother. Interview dates for both colleges were being performed in Yaounde so children who lived there will not have to travel to the various towns. The date for Sacred Heart interviews came and went by and not a word was said at home about it deliberately by the person who knew the date. You were then presented with the only choice that was left which was that of Bishop Rogan. You grudging and sadly went to the interview and got admitted. You ended up liking Bishop Rogan but much to Daddy’s dismay, the priesthood was not your calling. It was funny to see you and Jacob during the holidays. While he played the piano and sang songs that the Marist brothers taught them, you could drum on any utensil and sing Latin songs as well as many Cameroonian-composed church songs. You were always singing. Most of time it was beautiful and we will all join in. Sometimes daddy will say “Enough now. Can we have some peace and quiet?”
I left Cameroon when you were still in BIROCOL and so missed the events around your high school days at Saint Bede’s. I am sure your friends have some fun stories to tell.
Then I remember when you came to the United States of America. You were quietly determined to accomplish your goals. You stayed focused and you studied hard. That I really liked about you. You, however, tried to pick up some bad habits. I guess you were trying to be “American” or something, but one day I saw you in Pharmacy hall with your pants sitting slightly below your boxers. My stomach rumbled. I waited until your friends had left you alone and I walked up to you and asked you pointing to you pants “Pa, what is this?” You smiling asked me “what sis?” I warmed you about copying the bad aspects of a society. I asked you to pull your pants up and wear a belt next time. You wanted to start arguing, and then you thought about it and quietly said “O.K. Sis, I hear you. It won’t happen again.” And I never saw your pants down again. It is funny how later on you became obsessed with looking sharp and professional.
I remember the events that took place once you received your letter to interview at the University of Maryland School of pharmacy. I remember how you, Barbara and I went on a shopping spree to try to find you an appropriate outfit and how much fun we had that day as we went from store to store until we found something that was appropriate and within our budget. I remember how Mathilda spent time grilling you with interview questions and how seriously you took those mock sessions.
I remember your graduation from pharmacy school. We were so happy and daddy was very proud of you and jokingly called you “Docta.” I can still vividly see you walking out in line after your ceremony was over. Tah Batchia literally ran up to you, gave you a big hug and grabbed your hand steering you towards daddy who was sitting in his wheelchair quietly waiting for you. Even though Daddy’s beautiful smile had become a rarity as his facial muscles had been stiffened from Parkinson’s disease, his muscles seemed to relax at that time and I saw the brightest smile of Daddy’s sick days as he shook your hand. He was so happy. I remember the little house party we had for you, full of family members and how we danced and celebrated all night long.
I remember when you got your first job. Your preceptor at Bon Secours had been so impressed with your performance there that she immediately recommended you for hire. You were hired as a pharmacy intern with a pharmacist’s salary. It was not until you passed your boards that you brought your first pharmacist salary to Daddy in keeping with our culture. You even brought some of the money you had saved from your intern days to give to your siblings. I remember Daddy took only half the money you gave to him and returned the rest to you. You added it to the money you were going to give your siblings and went home with nothing. You will have it no other way.
I remember our family fun times together – our thanksgiving dinners and our Christmas parties. How we ate and sang and danced and just caught up on what was happening to everyone. You played just as hard as you worked. I remember the impromptu choir at the Christmas party at Tah Batchia’s house. Tah Batchia conducted and we all sang Christmas carols. Then you said to Joseph “Pericus, let’s give them a special number.” You and Jo, then proceeded to sing “It is a moon-light Christmas, tambo.” I can still hear your exaggerated bass as you sang “Tambo yeah yeah, TAMBO.” Oh Pa, that beautiful voice is now quiet, but I will forever hear it.”
I remember at my “knock-door” Daddy quietly said to my in-laws, “If anything comes up and I am not here, see him” pointing to you. Then daddy passed away and you were made his successor. You cared for us like a father in every way imaginable. You were wise beyond your years. You sent me materials to broaden my knowledge and advised me about work. I can still hear you “Sis, you have to stay relevant.” You supported us in many ways, morally, financially and just by lending a listening ear. You also made a beautiful mark on your nephews and nieces even though for such a short time. You frequently talked to me about exercise and weight loss and warned about the risk of developing chronic conditions such as diabetes and hypertension.
I will forever treasure the last moments we spent together. On Sunday May 10th 2015, mother’s day, you took me out. Ngumfor’s birthday had just passed a few days before and you said we will celebrate that too. We had such as great time. You cracked jokes; you played with your niece and recounted stories of how your friends had duped you into tasting some really bad food.
On May 22nd 2015, we celebrated Willy’s graduation. I remember Tah Sama saying that he was surprised when he received a call from you asking where they were. You had arrived even before them and this made them hurry out of the house. I remember what a good time we had at the party and how well you advised me on a problem I was having at that time.
On Father’s Day, we remembered Daddy at the special father’s day mass at the Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes on Mount Saint Mary in Emmittsburg. We then visited the holy grounds and you answered all the questions that Alex asked you as we passed the various statues of Holy people. You explained the love of God for us very beautifully to him and I made a mental note to use some of those words to re-inforce the information. When we got to the statue of Pope John Paul II, you said “ Habemus Papam.” This Pope is one that our family feels a special connection because like Daddy, he suffered from Parkinson’s disease. His photograph hung at Dad’s bedside for encouragement and we frequently sought his intercession for Dad. We looked at the plaques of people who had been immortalized there and we decided it is in this John Paul II Pavillion that we will place Daddy’s plaque.I told everyone that it will cost $2500 and you said that will not be a problem and we discussed what time frame we will need to do this.
I remember the great time we had at home after Daddy’s mass. I was too tired to cook so we just ordered Chinese. I remember how you were pleasantly surprised when Manyi said to you “Papa, I will serve you first. What do you want to eat?” You smilingly asked Manyi to serve my husband first. Manyi vehemently refused stating “Mais tu es le Pere.” You then let her serve you and we joked about the fact that if you got married, you could get this kind of treatment all the time. I remember how amused you were and said you were working on it. That was the last time I saw you, Sunday June 21st 2015 and you passed away on June 28th.
I was charged by the family to write a biography for you and I wanted to know what kinds of things you did and what kind of person you were at work. I called the pharmacy at Bon Secours, introduced myself and explained why I had called. Oh my! There was such an outpouring of love and sympathy. Some of the comments I heard were: “he was such a smart young man and was a great resource to all of us”. “There is nothing he doesn’t know and nothing he can’t do”. “He was very helpful and had a calm way of handling even the most irate of people”. “He never lost his cool and was able to stay calm and collected even in busiest moments and he always got the job done”. “He was very sharp and a very good clinician”. “There was certain uniqueness about him”. Other adjectives used to describe you were “humble, respectful, polite, very thorough and organized”. I was told that you were a clinical pharmacist, an anticoagulation pharmacist at the outpatient Coumadin clinic and a pyxis specialist. I was also told that you had been an assistant pharmacy manager. I learned that many of your co-workers and patients wept when they heard of your passing. To me it was amazing to see that you touched the lives of so many as positively as you touched ours and that they were able to see you as beautifully as we saw you.
And so it is said in the bible that there is a time for everything under the sun: a time to be born and a time to die. Well, your time came too soon for me, baby brother. But I thank God for the beautiful, precious gift of your life. It was a real pleasure growing up with you and even though I feel dismembered, you will FOREVER live in my heart, FOREVER. The love I have for you will never die. Adieu my brother, my father and I pray that our heavenly Father has found you as beautiful as we found you down here.
With much love, your sister,
Njuibi.
Now our eyes gaze at the limitless ethereal realms again
Searching for answers in spaces amidst indistinctive dust particles
Our minds probing in abashment the justice of Divine Justice;
Dotards with setting eyes battering to bolster precipitous infants
Their conspiracies you have gloriously crowned and blessed ANDRÉ.
You chose our lineage of the innumerable dwellings of this cosmos
Made your joyous entry and filled our hearts with soaring dreams;
Now illusive shadows deriding our skyrocketed hopes
Now ephemeral mammoths wobbling on mosquito legs.
Your gentleness, your enchanting smile; soft spoken rationality
And astounding intelligence sized the boots of Nforku the Man
Yet, concocted the snares that portended your unfledged collapse;
Our hearts splinterized into unmanageable portions; battered!
Yours is an exit of colourless colours; infinite painfulness
That has numbed the throbbing of the heart with excess;
Evulsed pulsating wailing eyes from their helpless sockets
Dragged all elements of creation into the dreadful cataclysm.
And I saw it with incomprehensible eyes:
A collapsed embankment in a bewildered night,
Excited trips of reunion planned and executed in a twinkle,
A heart-rending phone call for my idiotic crown, and the swoon;
Alas, the nine lives of a cat squeezed in a second of a dreadful night.
Another enterprise of tending a mother widowed and maimed twice
By two husbands opposed in ages, in deaths, in their farewells.
You have looked at us in all our ignorant joy and splashed acid in our eyes,
Kicked us in the small of our backs with the hoof of a giant human horse
And erased the last strands of grey from my coffin-laden head.
I will not cry though I weep; for I have learnt new songs of life
From the lips of toddlers who have hijacked the coffins of oldsters
And kicked our stools and garments, drinks and food to the sepulture
With the scorn of imperial angels and the despotism of divine power.
ANDRÉ my boy, our son! Yours is a burden too heavy to ferry
Across this ocean of tempests and hurricanes – hominine and divine.
Your back turned on us, we bear you on with tears to your new abode;
There the NFORKUs will commune and compose God’s minor jury.
Around here there is no quiet; no tranquility, even affected affection;
Over there, the stars shine, the roses bloom; even fireflies never blink.
There you will rest my son, not to see my disconcerted muddled mind.
That’s where the unprofaned belong; in the resplendence of His grace.
Sama-Ambe
Shank Patel PharmD
Cardinal Health Inc
Bon Secours Hospital
Balimore, MD
I miss you. My friend, I remember our good times together, and how many laughs we shared. I can still hear your voice telling me stories after hours of studying at PLC. I remember your infectious smile at the mall, working out, and everywhere in between. You were very generous, and taught me much. You will always be remembered, and may your family find a little piece of comfort in the many lives you touched.
Rose Graham
Bon Secours Baltimore Health System
Gone, but will NEVER be forgotten.
Good-bye my angel! Rest in Peace.
Sayni Pin PharmD
Bon Secours Hospital
As one by one we meet again.
In our hearts he will always stay,
Loved and remembered every day.
Niba André,i'll always smile when i think of you.Travel well my brother
On behalf of the Mbayu family
A PRAYER FOR ANDRE
Dear Hevenly Father, it is one more time I come to give thanks. My heart is heavy and filled with grief. I thank you for my brother,friend, son and pharmacist Andre Nforbi. I thank you for his spirit, his love and joy. I pray for your family during this difficult time, I pray God that you would hold them near and give them the grace to hold on, I know you know what is best for them. Keep them and surround them with your love.Father I don't question your will but ask for grace to serve you one more day. May Andre's spirit be a beacon of light that shine though our hearts as we remember him today. AMEN
Joni Larrabee, PharmD
Theo Awuah,PharmD
Cardinal Health Inc
Bon Secours Hospital
Baltimore,Md
On behalf of the SamaRoca Family
"Precious in the sight of the Lord, is the death of his saints" Psalm 116:15
May your soul rest in perfect peace.
Crosby Amoah, PharmD RN.
Leave a Tribute
I don't have any vivid memories of meeting you, but I have never forgotten the night you passed. For some reason, tonight I decided to read every story about you and swipe through all these pictures of you, and I can't help to be left feeling like I missed out on an amazing person. You seemed to have been so genuine, kind, hardworking, and thoughtful. I pray our Heavenly Father has received you and that you watch over your many loved ones each day. Continue to rest in perfect peace.
Nadia
Gone to soon! I know it has been a short time since you left but I still think of you. I think of you when I am in class telling my students about pharmacy and all it requires to be successful. I think of you when I remember how you show compassion during a difficult time for me. You supported me. Most of all you has always respected me. I can still hear you say " Yes miss Brenda or No miss Brenda", with that big bright smile. You were more than a co-worker, you became my son. I truly miss you. Gone but never forgotten. Rest in Peace!
Adieu my brother
My BIROCOL mate, my next desk neighbour in class, my brother from another mother, my Sonac street neighbourhood buddy. For many years you went off the grid but I always nursed this idea that somehow, someday I will find you, only to hear of your demise. I can't describe what I feel "Bulyaka", there's no word to effectively depict my emotions but I want to say Thank you Dre, for all the advices you rendered and for having you as a friend and brother. Adieu Mon frere. Que le seigneur veille sur ton ame. Je vais te visiter le jour que je rentre au pays, entre temps repose en paix afam. Love you always brother