By Bennett C. Nwanguma

My dear friend, so much has happened since you passed away two years ago. The COVID turned into a global pandemic leaving an estimated 3.3 million people dead and many more traumatized across the world. Thanks to a variety of vaccines and “herd immunity”, the worst seems to be over. For now, at least. Fortunately, Nigeria and the rest of Africa were spared the worst of the pandemic.

Thank God! Certainly not because we did anything spectacular. In truth, it is still a puzzle that corpses did not litter the streets of Africa as predicted by epidemiologists. (Let this be one of the things we talk about when we meet again). The restrictions on international travels have now been lifted and people are moving about freely again. I have now been able to travel to London as a result. Apart from the pandemic, the conditions of living have worsened in the country.

The challenge of insecurity has finally got out of hand. Traveling in Nigeria now feels like auditioning for a role in a Nollywood horror series. As someone who loved to travel, I often wonder how you would have coped. The so-called unknown gunmen are everywhere and have now made it so risky to travel to virtually anywhere in the Southeast.

Some of your regular routes through Awka to Ihiala, your hometown, and to Owerri, a city you liked, are now too dangerous to ply. Many compatriots have lost their lives while traveling through this route. There but for the grace of God go I. Since August 2021 residents of the Southeast have been forbidden from traveling, working or trading on Mondays.

This is due to the “sit – at -home” order imposed by the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB) as a way of protesting the continued incarceration Mazi Nnamdi Kanu. Many people who dared to violate this order have paid dearly for their bravado. Professor Soludo, the newly elected Governor of Anambra State, has promised to bring this under control and we all wish him well. Traditional rulers led by Igwe Achebe, the Obi of Onitsha, and the clergy have also recently tried to intervene and we also hope they succeed.

The security situation in the north is also at its worst ever. The so-called bandits have become more brutal and daring. Why the government prefers to call them bandits instead of terrorists beats everyone’s imagination. A recent event in Kaduna has revealed their close ties with Boko Haram.

In addition, the economy has also hit its lowest ebb ever. Our local and foreign debts are now obviously unsustainable. It has been speculated that close to 90% of federal revenue is currently spent on servicing these debts. Sadly, the popular opinion is that the desired impact of these loans on the state of infrastructure in the country is not quite obvious. Oil revenue has dropped considerably, thanks to a new form of criminality known as oil theft. Headline inflation is now at a record high of about 15.9%.

The Naira has continued its downward spiral. One USD now exchanges for almost N600.00 in the parallel market. This would have been a major impediment to your ability to attend academic meetings and conference abroad. This, I know, is something you loved to do. In the last one month the national grid has collapsed several times plunging various parts of the country into prolonged periods of darkness. This happened at a time when the price of diesel has risen to to about N700.00 per litre.

This new fuel price and hhas been blamed partly on the ongoing war between Russia and Ukraine. Yes, Russia invaded Ukraine 2 months ago and the poor country is fighting back the best they can. It is a matter of national pride for the Ukrainians. I can imagine how all these would have impacted on the quality of life you always tried to afford for yourself and your family. A professor’s monthly salary is now worth about USD600.

This is certainly not enough to buy you a return ticket to Europe. ASUU is back in the trenches trying to force the federal government to implement the agreement they reached with the union in 2009, so academics can afford a decent life. If you ask me, I would say there is no end in sight. Not yet. The other unions have also downed their tools for similar reasons. The politicians are already distracted by the general elections that are scheduled for next year. Interestingly, this includes Dr Chris Ngige, the Minister for Labour and Employment, and Chief Emeka Nwajiuba, the Minister of State for Education, who recently announced their desire to succeed President Buhari.

To be honest, an unprecedented number of candidates are jostling for the tickets of the two main political parties, in spite of the huge costs. As you would expect, the temperature and pressure are already rising in response to the forthcoming elections.

A further devaluation of the Naira is anticipated and the problems of insecurity and political violence are expected to worsen in both frequency, coverage and brutality. As a consolation, Agaba, you may have departed while the ovation was still a bit loud. In addition, you left with your dignity in tact. We are still standing though, but just leaning on hope.

The news of your death came via a phone call and left your friends, colleagues, members of the senior staff club and the entire University of Nigeria community in shock. We could not understand how a friend who showed no obvious sign of illness the previous day would suddenly be pronounced dead. As minutes became hours and hours turned to days, our initial denial gave way to acceptance and then to resignation.

We were all forced to accept the fact that your earthly sojourn had come to a sudden end. No one wept like Dr Nnabuike Osadebe, who served as bar secretary when you were the President of the club. I found some relief in the belief that you would not have preferred to die after a protracted illness because this could have robbed you of your dignity and left you at the mercy of other people. Sadly, exiting suddenly, like you did, does not allow us to “put our house in order”. In addition, it always leaves our loved ones and friends in shock. Just like yours did.

The timing of your departure which coincided with the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, when we all lived in heightened anxiety and uncertainty, made it more unbearable. In your last days, we all gathered at the Club’s car park in the evenings in compliance with the COVID – imposed rules of physical and social distancing. We gathered regularly to draw strength from each other. I remember our last trip to Enugu to see Professor Bato Okolo when we stocked up on avocados and mangoes, all in an attempt to boost our immunity against the novel and dreaded virus. Two years have now passed and the deep sense of loss precipitated by your sudden departure hasn’t left us.

You are still missed at the staff club. You sure loved the club and the club loved you back. One could easily tell when you were in town by looking for your car at the club. You always managed to share your time brilliantly between the main club hall and the outdoor triangle in front of the club.

You occasionally also stopped by at the club in the afternoons for a snack and a rest. This gave every member of the club a taste of your camaraderie. Your very modest appetite for alcohol is an enduring reminder that being at the club is not synonymous with drinking.

Your peculiar manner of drinking slowly – seemingly caressing your glass – remains an admirable reference point at the club. Akpunwa hasn’t stopped talking about it. Your towering presence and trademark stories, (usually told slowly) are missed. These will continue to form the indelible memories which you left behind at the club. We’ve lost a few club heavyweights since your departure, namely Professor Inyama (MOB) and, more recently, Professor Odukwe. May your souls rest in peace.

Ezeafulukwe, you had a towering and royal presence wherever you went. Your handshake was a handful and your friendship was reassuring. You were very sociable, and it was always a pleasure to share a drink or have a chat with you. This was largely because you were very knowledgeable and quite exposed.

You always chose your words carefully and also let them out rather slowly. You never missed a chance to educate your audience and share the vast experience you gained from your many travels across the globe. One of my best memories of you is captured in the pictures you took while standing tall beside the Egyptian pyramids. It was your last trip overseas and a fulfilment of a lifetime ambition.

As a younger colleague, I felt privileged to enjoy the close relationship I had with you. There was an obvious and special touch to our friendship. At least, you made me feel that way. I have no doubt that you made many other people feel special too, but I knew you always looked out for me. And I am forever in your debt.

Indeed, this special feeling of acceptance which people get when they relate with you was part of what made you a unique man. I came to realize that beneath the stern look you often wore was a very compassionate and soft inner core. Since your passing, stories have been told of how you discretely rose in support of colleagues and strangers in need.

Professor Carl Okezie! As an accomplished academic, you came, saw and conquered territories in your chosen field of expertise. You were widely published and travelled . You rose to the pinnacle of your career as a Professor of Botany, specializing in plant physiology and biotechnology.

You were a fellow of the highly revered Royal Society of Botany, UK and rose to become the President of the Botanical Society of Nigeria (BOSON). At various times, you served as Head of the Department of Botany and as Dean of the Faculty of Biological Sciences.

You were a member of many regional and national academic and scientific advisory committees. You also undertook a number of national assignments, including serving as the Director of the South-East Zonal Biotechnology Centre situated here at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. Your students remember you as a great teacher. One of them, Professor Ifeoma Akaneme, who was also your mentee, is the current dean of our faculty. Sadly, this seems the only good news I have for you.

Agaba, I knew you were a God-fearing man and a believer, but you just couldn’t stand the hypocrisy of modern day Christianity. Trust me, you were not alone. Like all mortals, you had your faults and that made you human. I really do pray and believe you are in a better place, because you loved your neighbour and you often gave without taking. As we celebrate another Easter season, I remember our last lunch together. It was an Easter lunch. You figured out I would be spending Easter alone – away from my family – and you came over with food so we could spend the day together. You turned down my offer of red wine and I wondered if you were okay. I thank you for the privilege of being your friend while you lived amongst us.
Rest in peace, my dear friend, the gentle giant. You are sorely missed, but you will continue to live in my memory, in our memory, until the end of times. Rest on, nice man.