Professor T.K Hamzat.
My Prof like I used to talk about you to my friends. You are one of the precious gifts that God brought my way while I was in the university. You took me as your own, the love was palpable and I will always cherish the access I had to you. The access which I will always wish I explored more.
I will forever remember a class you took us on a saturday, you were coming from a wedding ceremony and you came late. You apologised for coming late and told us why. So I asked for what you brought from the wedding, you told me to follow you to your car after class to come get yam, I was surprised and happy at the same time. During the class, I started crying because my head was almost splitting open from ache, you asked what was wrong and I said I had been having the hedache for about a week. You screamed and sent me to A&E UCH, You requested that my friends Dammy and Temilade follow me and you gave us money for whatever we needed. I got to A$E and it was taking some time before they attended to me. Immediately you heard, you called a very high ranking personnel in UCH and told them your student is being left unattended to, in A&E. Within split second, a doctor came to attend to me. My care was taking too long and then you cancelled the class because you didn't want us to miss much. You gave another friend of mine more money double the intial amount to cater for whatever I will be needing after the tests and drugs I had done and gotten earlier. You called to check up on me and told me to let you know if I will be needing anything else. I was made to take a bedrest all day and was discharged home in the evening. I had totally forgotten about the yam and I got the surprise of my life when I got back to the hostel and realised you sent down the yam. This is one of the many stories that tell of your kindness, your love, your generosity, your genuineness, your compassion and your humility.
I remember how much you hugged and prayed for me after my project defense. You drove myself, Lase and Dammy to ABH and said we should tell the world you were our first driver when we became graduates.
I remember how I messaged you from the blues for help and you responded immediately and took up the task.
I remember the day you named me 'Latino' and said you always knew that I only needed the right place and people and I will open up like a blooming flower.
I remember the day we had a conversation that lasted for over 2 hours instead of the initially planned 30 minutes when I came to see you after my final exams and had personal discussions with you. You cheered me on, encouraged me, gave recommendations on what to do and told me to let you know when I needed any help.
I remember the last time I came to see you and told you about the success of something you helped me with, You were happy and immediately started working with me on plans that should come next. You already started telling me the things to do, opportunities to access and how to position myself for the best outcomes. You were ready to go all the miles with me.
I remember Prof, I remember. The many sweet memories of our conversations/relations came flooding, when I heard you are gone. Gone. Gone. Gone? Ah! This one stings, and it stings bad.
You have cheered on every decision I have made career/academic wise. You have proven to be my ever support system and that transcended beyond academics. You gisted with me like a friend, told me stories that shaped you. You saw through me, told me things about myself and how you were once like me, striving to make the best out of life. You did, it's just too soon for you to leave.
No news of anyone passing has made me feel this way in 13 years, I can't even describe the feeling. My chest hurts physically.
I always end my messages to you with 'Your Latino Aburo Always'. I still am, I always will be. I will tell stories of you to whoever I marry because I had thought you would meet him like I promised you when you said I shouldn't marry an 'akata'.
You care, you love, you give, you laugh. The past tenses just don't do it for me.
Ese sir. Mi o ni gbagbe yin laye. I will try my best to pay it forward. O dun mi o, O dun mi gan. But all the pictures of you smiling said 'It's alright my Latino Aburo' and I will take that. I will remember your words "Bimbo, as long as you don't stop pushing, doors will open". I won't Prof, I won't. I had really hoped you will always be there when I run in with the many good news I intended to share with you.
But it's alright. God knows best.
Great men are called by their names- a statement you once made in class.
Rest well, Kolapo Hamzat. A great man I was priviledged and honoured to know.
I will miss you very much my friend and teacher.
May the good Lord comfort your family that you love evidently and unapologetically.
Your Latino Aburo, Always.