ForeverMissed
Large image
Stories

Share a special moment from Protus's life.

Write a story

Toll gate classes

February 28, 2022
Dear family, 
If there is one thing that I  got from Prof, it was the running of Toll gate classes. The first time I attended a t'il gate class was at small room on the ground floor of the MEDENO building. How prof could pull a crowd to such a place which was not a school was beyond my understanding. 
However, he invited bme and I came. By then I was teaching in JOMATT College of Technology Batibo. He had given me the script of The Immortal seed to look through and I came up to Bamenda to give him my views. When I called him, he said bon the phone: "Ngangnitoing, just locate me in the MEDENO Building.
When I arrived, I was surprised to see a crowd of about 300 students packed in the hall. Everyone had a copy of Mastering Ordinary level Literature. When I entered the Hall, he told the crowd: "This is the man I was waiting for to take Animal Farm today". I stood there with my mouth open. Then Prof pulled me outside and said: "I am getting too old for this. You can inherit it if you like."
Then he was gone. I surprisingly went through on hour of a class I didn't prepare. Did I say "didn't prepare?
I lied. I had read and reread everything that needed to be known about Animal Farm.
The class went like clockwork. At the end he told me, "this is where the real teaching gets done."
He told me, it's a toll gate class. Every student pays 100frs and comes in. That is school fees for that day. 
To cut a long story short, I started a toll gate class when I returned to Batibo. That is how Prof could inspire anyone to achieve greatness. Now I am running a toll gate class in Namibia!!! 
May prof continue to rest in peace. You showed us the way. We are still on the journey you described for us and it's still a beautiful world but has never been, not will ever be the same without you. 
Adieu !!! 

Still, the sun shines

February 24, 2022
Prof, the winter of life is brutal, but your thoughts and work remains the harbinger of spring that we need. Our conversations over a glass of palm wine, in the darkness lit by kerosene lamps, remains indelible and breathes warmth.

Happy Birthday in Heaven!

September 12, 2020
Dear Daddy Prof. "Alhadji",
I celebrate you today and every other day because you have been one the sweetest persons of my life and the memories of you shall forever dwell in my mind. Wishing you joy on your birthday in Heaven!

Two seasons, we are still waiting for the harvest!

February 24, 2020

Prof “Alhaji”,

It’s now two whole years gone by.
Still I haven’t forgotten that fateful day.
When that fateful text message dropped in

“It has happened. He’s no more!”

Two years now and the message is still seems new

The hurt of that day is still the same and fresh,
You were like a rock, strong, faithful and true.
In your heavenly abbot, I know you still hear us.

Yes, sadly we have missed you along life’s way

But quietly you are remembered every day

No longer in our lives to share the laughter and sighs

Losing you wasn’t the hard part, its learning to live without you.

Yes, goodbyes hurt when the story is not finished

But the book has been closed forever, so it seems.

We have missed you in so many ways

We have missed the many things you used to say

Recalling the old times is when we tend to miss you most.

I hope you are living well in the world of the creator.

The RIFIT family loves you and misses you so much.

Missing u 4eva

February 27, 2019

I can still picture you in my head, laughing as you dance in the clouds of heaven, smiling at me down on earth, and telling me. I can survive. We all can.

You were my strength in my weakness, u were the light shown on my darkest path. My eyes were I couldn't see.

The most hurting part is, you left so soon and I'm jealous because you now have new friends:Holier than me,  perfect than me who are there to serve u. 

But one thing I know is w'll meet again. I miss u...... 

Missing you....

February 26, 2019

 They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but it also makes it break; it shatters it into tiny little pieces. I’ve never cried over anything in my life as much as I cry over u,  you may have left the town, u may have left the country, u may have left the earth, but one thing is sure,  u have not left my heart, and I know one day w'll all sit round table with laughing comrades, and u will continue with the second part of the Immortal seed then I will know w're part of one stupendous whole.  I miss you so much my HERO. 

April 9, 2018
In Loving Memory
(Tribute to Tah Protus Tawang, Poet, Dramatist, Novelist, Critic, Musician...)
By Prof. Valentine Tameh (VANTA)

That you did finally choose

To quit the traditional stool

In the family shrine you inherited,

Not to the swelling vibrating chant

Of sabre-toothed, wood-chomping termites,

No, for sure you left huge logs in store,

Logs galore to confound each eager colony.

 

I imagine their hand in this –

I’m sure keen departed peers winked you off.

I mean Lake God’s prodigal prof,

Who blinked by and was whisked away,

He who moulded you in The Mould;

I imagine the talkative zombie too,

And the forge for Numqam, they did conspire

To wink you home, you penman musician weaving mazes,

Stoking artistic flame from many rostrums.

 

As undergraduate, you caught the bug,

Shone in frenzy as ombudsman for art;

Probed every genre and returned, Jack of all;

For poetry, The Mould served for nurture.

For theatre, The Flame Players and other troupes testified.

Your bold tapestries matured in The Immortal Seed,

Giving us hope this was the start of real flourish.

How sad this was but bubble that would soon burst!

 

Big Bro, you strode the world of the critics tall;

Sowed and nurtured hill-tides of young literati

More than a generation your shade gave comfort

Your scripting was ever there to grant assurance,

And teacher and sundry students were regaled,

Your forged path for writers and birthed boom;

Hails of garlands from godsons redcarpet you out.

 

Even though today you bow to the benevolent boatman.

Even though Death today boasts prize-catch,

You go head high coz your talent cache is matchless;

The Leveller's labour is vain coz your prize is assured;;

Your redfeather art will hobnob long in high places,

And will for long stir literati to drink deep from from those springs,

What else can mortal man hope to do, Big Bro?

 

That you finally did choose,

To quit the traditional shrine of your forbears,

Not lured as many would have expected

By keen-edged studies at home or abroad;

No, you willed all to posterity, saw all as vanity.

How could the trappings of gloria mundi have sufficed

To further fetter you, lure away your gaze

Already glued to the promised inheritance of gold hue?

 

Adieu Big Bro; we mourn but you go for gold for sure...

 


Gooooood byeeee

March 19, 2018

Daddy, it's with a heavy heart that I write these words to you. I knew this day would come but I think it came too soon. Right now, I want to express my gratitude, for the example you set, for the care you gave us and for your sense of humour. I wish i had half of your work ethic. You worked so hard and you are proof that it's what you pack into your years on earth that count and not the number of years. Good bye and rest in peace daddy.

THE IMMORTAL SEED

March 18, 2018

TP

Age mate

Imaginative

Creative

Intelligent

You were always ready to unravel the mystery behind any text

Drama,  poem or novel

O/ L LIT IN ENGLISH

You simplified,  not only for your students,  but also for teachers

What a head you had

And culminated in 

IMMORTAL SEED

as if you knew !!!

Who could tell that your end would come so soon? 

But you know what???? 

You actually conquered death

You live on in your works

You are truly 

THE IMMORTAL SEED.

ADIEU TP. 

WE MISS YOU 

YOU LIVE ON ETERNALLY

For my Papa Tah Protus

March 8, 2018

“For My Papa Tah Protus.”

I wish I could arrest this demon

this demon  Adam named death…

I will squeeze its ugly head like lemon

until all its blood nuzzle into the drench.

                                                                                                             

Just a couple of months back –

you crumpled the heads of Bate Besong

Kwasen Gwangwa’a and Hilary Ambe

disgraced Disgrace they bled and died in

your cursed hands, as we bled in our breath.

 

Next you loathsome demon visited Botake

pinned him down and placed him on bed arrest

wrecked his homestead and palm bush

so that palm wine should flow no more…

enthroning untold agony for his followers.

 

As if not enough the cantankerous demon flew in

snatched The Crown of Thorns from Linus Asong’s heart

and then to his homestead, made a laughing store

as if to caution that No Way To Die was a fallacy.

demon of hell why force us to cry like Awoonor?

and cause offsprings of Kpetis, Agosus, Nyidevus

to dread their great father’s house?

 

returning home we are left like strangers

not only covered by stockpile of dust and cobwebs

tears as we watch our once vibrant hopes

shatter into pieces and no one to gather the remnants.

 

I hear yet another distress cry coming from Njindom?

why does this one pierce my heart so deeply?

I feel some ungodly uncleanness in the atmosphere

pricking through my bones and all at once

my blood goes hot and congealing like a bee sting

 

Haaaaaaa… the sound is getting heavy and obvious

Heeeeeeee… my heart will fall off … please hold me

the mighty eucalyptus tree in Tawang’s compound,

has gone missing… Kara kara kat!

My eyes have seen my ears

 

Oh no!  That mighty eucalyptus tree gave us solace…

Rejected by all else, we gathered at its gentle bosom

for comfort and listened to tales of inspiration.

 

Father of my generation, our own Moses, Prof…

You taught us how to make immortal commandments

encouraged us to write, when the moon shone.

You brought out the Njimuluhs, Tangohs, Ngangnitongs,

Atungshiris, the Akenes, the Malams, and the Aladjis,

You gathered us to tell the grassfield fondom heads

The ease to settle grazier conflicts and intertribal disputes.

 

When our world felt threatened by our talents

You gathered us, raised, fashioned us, discipled us,

inducted us into God’s own purpose for us

You taught us how to find bread to eat

and still keep in hand and heart our destinies…

 

Protus my father, you adopted us orphans

denied by their Customs, culture and traditions

the opportunity to raise the same

cultures customs and traditions.

 

Since you insist to journey on, take this memo…

Tell Bate, Tanguo, Gwangwa, Bole in that fine country

since they went we have not heard anything from them.

 

You were the pace setter and ground breaker,

set the pace of RIFIT Productions there…

were you not the sans frontier who taught us

how to break the impossible bounds here?

 

I know you must have met your pilot face to face…

The Lord you spoke about to us with confidence.

Prepare a place for us…

 

Death, you have failed… if only you knew

That this giant had raised this number of us

Transformed into highly productive mortal seeds,

You would have let him be…

now even our God salutes his honour…

death… s…h…a…m…e….!!!

 

Oliver A. N. Kevnojev

(One He raised)

 

 

 

 

 

Tribute to a Father, Mr Tah Protus,

March 5, 2018

The Sun is Set, But its Rays Still Beams.

             Adieu, Tah Protus!

 

We still see your rays as the sun

We still feel your warmth as we mourn.

Although you are forever gone,

Your sense of humor will always be fun.

 

Your light was ceaseless

Like a star it will remain alight and glow

Forever it will remain so, and continue to show.

The lessons from your scriptures are endless

 

Your pen sang and giggled whenever you scribble

Tortoise and the Jungle Folks had it all

And all your narratives as I can recall

To colleagues and students, these were their Bible

 

In Andek, you tilled the soil for The Immortal Seed

With candles stick and kerosene lamp light.

You ploughed in the light of the dark night

The harvest is here, and you are nowhere to see us feed

 

Through these scriptures you were omnipresent

At the GCE marking center, study groups, and every classroom

And like a judge in a courtroom

Your scriptures enlightened and gave the verdict as a present.

 

For the artist that you were,

Your songs touched the hearts of many,

With rhythms ranging from Hip hop to makonghi

We will continue to listen to, and jive to, always and everywhere.

               

                                                                Your son,

                                                              Mulligan Ntali

March 3, 2018

WHERE ARE YOU? 


(A Skit in Memory of Mr. Tah Protus Tawang, a great literary pillar on a flight to the Empyrean Kingdom). A telepathic performance by Elias Enci (EE) and Tah Protus Tawang (TPT).

 

EE: Aladji, Aladji, What is this I am hearing? I have looked for you everywhere. It is not yet the 8th Day. Why make us go through this terrible Ordeal which seems totally Beyond Repair? Aren’t you afraid to die?

TPT: Death? Hahaha!!! Death is nothing at all. I am not dead. I have only slipped away into the throne room.

EE: Did you think about me your Godson, Jeje, Nji, Akwi, Kimbeng and Mummy? Ngangnitong, Atungshiri, Njimuluh, Akene, Grandpa, and the many others before slipping away into your so called throne room? Are you abandoning us? You don’t seem to recognize your name again. Do you even know me?

TPT: Hmm! Don’t worry. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we still are. Call me by my old familiar name. Speak to me in the easy way that you always used to. Put no difference in your tone, and wear no forced airs of solemnity or sorrow.

EE: But the Atmosphere you are leaving behind is that of sorrow and tears.

TPT: Please my dear, no. No sorrow or tears I say. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray with me and pray for me.

EE: You just left, even before the planting season and already your homestead looks like an empty shell. We were preparing the farm to plant our usual seeds but why present us with this large Immortal Seed, with no planting instructions? What Dividends has Fate brought to us at this time?

TPT: Worry not. On the 8th Day you will discover that the Ordeal you talked about is nothing strange. Take things easy. Just make sure that the Immortal Seed is planted like any other seed, and that my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let my name be spoken without effect and without the trace of shadow on it.

EE: But many people say that the bridge you have crossed is beyond repair, how shall we find you? Why do you want us to take you out of our minds?

TPT: Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind simply because I am out of sight? I am in the throne room, waiting to see what Tangoh is doing with the oath stone, to put thieves away from the harvest. I will be waiting for you. But for the interval, I am somewhere very near, just around the corner. I must go now. All is well. Remain blessed. I love you all.

EE: Okay Daddy. Farewell then, until we meet again to part no more.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY DEAR GODFATHER - Mr. Tah Protus T. (Prof, Alhadji)

March 1, 2018

You didn’t give me the gift of life, yes I know but Life gave me the gift of you and you took me as your own. Your darling wife, a real mother showed me every motherly care any man can boast of. 

In my days of despair at the SHOMENCAM school, after my first degree, you gave me hope, hope to stay strong, hope that tomorrow will be better. The future was quite bleak then but you did not stop encouraging me to remain hopeful while struggling. You surrendered your teaching hours at the Multi-Purpose Evening School – PCHS Bamenda, so I can earn something to keep me going. 
Together with other great friends like Nfone Julius, Samson V. (Grandpa), Oliver A. and a host of others, we created the Ripples Film and Theatre (RIFIT) Production to keep us busy. You were the Father of the group and ever will be, whose trademark was carried on all your publications thereafter. We ventured into film production and trained many who later have become star actors/actresses in different groups.
The Literary giant that you are, will live forever. Your quest for knowledge knew no limits. You submitted your work for a PHD since 2016, to the Yaounde University I. I just learned that you finally defended, but you did not tell me about this, eventhough we were planning a big celebration to follow your decoration with the highest academic red feather. Your works will be well preserved and made public. You remain one of the greatest teachers of Literature. A literary giant, guru, baobab, etc.
It’s been slightly less than 2 years since I last saw you, touched your hand, hugged you or just sat in your presence. I really, miss you. I miss the sound of your voice, how you’d call me Alhadji. I really wish I could hug you right now. I miss your words of wisdom, your encouragements, your sense of humor and I miss the sound of your laughter. You were going to be one of the first to see my diploma as I graduate this May. 
You were with me all the way when I lost my father in 2015. You did not only console and support me but you gave me hope that all was not lost. You made the journey with me through the rugged roads to my place of birth in Njikwa, to see my father laid to rest and bid him a final farewell. Yes we journeyed together in that convoy, you riding in our famous “Suzuki Jeep”. You went ahead and stopped at the top of one of the beautiful hills after the Acha-Tugi Hospital, feeling the cool fresh breeze blowing as you watched the other cars cruising the winding thread of the road. I met you at that point, and we took panoramic views of God’s wonderful creation, of hills and valleys, grasslands and forests, streams and springs, steep slopes and gentle slopes, rocks of all sizes and shapes. What a great IN MEMORAIM styled journey.
What can be more than the hope, consolation and support at a time of despair. You were that Hope at a time when I knew I had lost it all.
I very strongly believe that the people we love remain with us even after they journey beyond, for love itself lives on, and cherished memories never fade. As long as we have our memories, “Alhadji”, Prof TPT will always live in our hearts, in my heart.
Words are few, thoughts are deep, but memories of you will live on forever. You have not gone too far from us but to God our creator. For we know God is ever very near.
Adieu Daddy! Adieu! Adieu, until we meet again.

Share a story

 
Add a document, picture, song, or video
Add an attachment Add a media attachment to your story
You can illustrate your story with a photo, video, song, or PDF document attachment.