A TRIBUTE TO NWAKAIBEYA, BY IKENNA NWIZU – YOUR DIOKPALA
My Dearest Dad,
It’s the second time I’m writing to you this way. After your 80th, I had looked forward to my next tribute to you and was counting down the years to 90. I never thought I would write again so soon.
The year was 2006, a little over a year after our wedding, Nwando & I. You had insisted on coming over to our home to visit, you and mom and couldn’t understand why we still hadn’t invited you guys over. You see, things were pretty tough then, starting out and all. We only had our bedroom ready then, in the three-bedroom bungalow we managed to knock together – the living room was still under construction. We had hoped to make our home more presentable before inviting you guys over. But you weren’t having this. I recall how you eventually invited yourself over for Saturday lunch, insisting on visiting, no matter how “beautiful” our home was. The day came and true to form, there you were at our front door, with mom. We couldn’t afford proper chairs at the time and so, we all sat on OK Plastic chairs around a collapsible wooden table, which I had taken from the family home; the chairs being part of the retail merchandise issued by then V-mobile to me, being a Dealer of SIM cards and recharge vouchers at the time. If my memory serves me well, the chair you sat on, buckled at some point, causing you to fall flat on the floor. I thought to myself at that moment, “you see, this is why I didn’t want to invite you guys in the first place, now look at this”. Thankfully, you weren’t hurt. You picked yourself up very quickly, even before we made it to your aid. You dusted yourself and asked for another chair and continued chatting like nothing happened.
This is who you were, daddy. You knew how to abase and abound - a very content man indeed. You taught us, all your children, to work hard and learn to live within our means. To never look over our shoulders…to take pride in honest gain. To always temper ambition with caution and to never to be ashamed of whom one was.
“Pursue peace with all people, and holiness, without which no one will see the Lord” - Hebrews 12:14;
You wore this scripture like a sleeve. Of all your enviable attributes, you were most known for being a man of peace. You actively sought it and pursued it, often at great cost to self. You always judged issues with even scales and were never partisan, no matter who was involved. People often cited you as being the binding force in the Nwizu clan - central to the peace we have enjoyed as a family. You taught me about compromise and sacrifice. To pursue selflessness - to always wear the shoes of the other party. You were indeed a gift, to me, my siblings, my mom, your brothers, the Nwizu clan, your friends, to the world.
Another attribute that exemplified your person was integrity. Going through your personal items, when we cleared out your stuff from the family home, I came across two commendation letters issued to you by Texaco Nigeria Limited (Your employer for the better half of your career life). The first (in 1983) was a commendation and award of a cash gift of USD 3,500, in recognition of your tireless efforts in securing the repatriation of USD 13.6m, for Texaco. The second was a commendation and cash gift of USD 5,000 in 1986, in recognition of your successful negotiation of “Approved Status” for Texaco’s investments in Texaco Nigeria limited, which enabled the repatriation of outstanding earnings in Texaco’s Lagos Division, at the time running into tens of millions of dollars. Being the first ever Nigerian to be appointed GM of Texaco Nigeria Ltd and to sit on the Board of Texaco as an Executive, you had tremendous powers available to you, to benefit and enrich yourself, albeit at the expense of Texaco. In the course of your 28yr career with the Company and 16yrs as GM and Board Member, many such “opportunities” would come and go; yet you remained untainted. I never knew you to take what wasn’t yours – a tenet now imbibed in us, your children. They just don’t make them like you anymore…
You loved God with a passion. With all my Pentecostalism, I never could match up with your dedication and commitment to God. You would wake up very early, every morning at past 5 and would be seated with your bible in hand at about half-six, diligently studying the Word of God. You would then hold family devotions by 7am…I can still hear your raucous bellows - the most ‘boring’ songs from your hymnal…”Old Rugged Cross”, et al. In all this, what seemed like dogma to most, was in fact a deep seated faith, which pervaded everything you did. Your faith and your love for God, defined who you were. You were not known for verbose prayers, the working of miracles, speaking in tongues, prophecies or faith for healing, but you lived 1Corinthians 13 – Your love for people was practical and real. You always rooted for the little guy.
Since you’ve been gone, I have struggled to make sense of it all. I have my good and bad days, sometimes even angry days. I find myself often walking back my steps, questioning every decision relating to your care, which I/we (your children) took in the weeks leading to your passing…wondering if we got it right. The pain is like nothing I have ever experienced. Your exit was rather sudden and unprecedented. There are many things I had wanted to ask you, many stories yet untold. You were my centre, my sounding board, my advisor. You kept me anchored in a way that no one could. You’ve left a void that is difficult to fill. You’ve broken many hearts. Why now? Why this way? Death is so final…
Throughout your battle with this hellish virus, two moments stand out as being most memorable, even if negatively so. The first was the day after you were admitted into the hospital. Your health was failing then, but you were still conscious, though weakened from the effects of the virus. We managed to speak with you for about half a minute, mom, Johnny, Ady, Ngo, Nnamdi and myself. We all told you how much we loved you and that you were in good hands. “You were going to be okay”, we promised. I can never forget your response…in a frail whisper at odds with your usual gruff manner of speaking, you said, “I didn’t know it would come to this”.
Another such moment was the account of your last conscious minutes, before you were put on a ventilator. We had quizzed the doctor who stood in as liaison between the hospital and the family, curious about your demeanor in the moments before you were intubated. She had mentioned that the ventilator was placed at the corner of your room, the moment you were admitted and that you had been counseled about the possibility of being hooked up to it, if it came to that. We asked her is you were ever afraid and she had reported that you showed no fear at all and were on the contrary, reassured by the prospect of the ventilator being a contingency plan, should all fail. When the moment came, we were told, you were counseled once more and advised that it was time. You were asked if you had anything to say. Your last words were, “do what you have to do”. Vintage dad…practical and fearless. Odogwu nwoke ka e bu. I can only dream of being half the man you were. Whilst you have left shoes too big for me to fill, my promise to you is to always try. I love you deeply…perhaps too much. The principles you lived by, the sacrifices you made; they will remain etched in my heart. Your memory shall live on, your good works shall be a voice in the hereafter.
“In My Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also. And where I go you know, and the way you know." - John 14:2-4;
Even as your light has gone out and the curtains drawn, I find consolation in this; that you are indeed in a better place. You often wondered about the hereafter…what it would be like. You don’t have to wonder anymore – the City of Gold, pure as glass – the walls of Jasper with foundations of Sapphire, Chalcedony, emerald, Sardonyx, Sardius, Crysolite, Beryl, Topaz, Chrysoprase, Jacinth and Amethyst – A City whose Light is God - Now you see it. I know that you will shine in that City, just as you did on this side of the divide. May your crowns be plentiful, your reward, bountiful. Nwakaibeya – the child that is greater than his peers. You will always live in my heart. Sleep well, my father. Till we meet again…
Your Loving Son
Ikenna