Chukwumerije Chukwumerije
TRIBUTE IN BRIEF
Celebrating the champion of the weak
By Victor Ndoma-Egba
Every age, every generation produces an iconoclast, an eclectic, eccentric, a quirky and unusual figure, who, ironically, represents the measure, the values ,and indeed ,the essence of that age or generation and becomes the icon of that age or generation.
They are not conventional persons, they are peculiar, odd, aberrant, curious, capricious, quaint, queer, and even erratic.
Somehow, in spite of their unusualness, they remain unusually lovable. They cannot be ignored. They are usually unobtrusive yet their presence is forceful.
They remind us of who we secretly would wish to be but for our lack of either the courage of our convictions or the DNA to be that. Uche Chukwumerije, famously known as Comrade, even after three terms in the Senate, an institution that is inherently elitist, wore his idiosyncrasy very proudly as a badge of honor like the early advertisement of Gulder Beer, “he was proud to be different and sure of his taste.”
Comrade Chukwumerije was long a legend before I became anybody. A defining period for those of my generation from my part of Nigeria, the then Eastern Region, today’s South South and South East geopolitical zones, was the unfortunate Nigerian Civil war of May 1970-January 1970.
Though we were under 10 years old when the war broke out, we were precociously wizened by it. We followed the major characters, Ojukwu, Achuzie alias Air Raid, Madiebbo, amongst others, as major players in the war theatre on the Biafran side as we had Gowon, Adekunle, Alabi Isama amongst others on the Nigerian side.
Chukwumerije
However, the Biafran propaganda component of the war had no Nigerian equivalent and it is for this reason that it was even more lethal than the guns and bombs of the time. What greater credit can we give to this than the acknowledgment of the Chukwumerije and Okokon Ndem bunkers in the War Museum in Amafor Isingwu Umuahia?
I was overawed when the famous Okokon Ndem walked into my office in Calabar in 1987 to ask for a place in my just set up law firm for his newly qualified lawyer son. I was in shock that history came to me, so fortuitously and easily. It was even more confounding when in 2003, I, not only came face to face with Comrade Uche, but we became colleagues in the Fifth Senate.
Our relationship was initially tentative but was soon to be characterized by merciless, self deprecating jokes. I teased him as ‘a caviar-loving, SUV-driving, golf-playing, Maitama-residing Comrade whose sartorial choices were from Edgeware Road” in London. He responded by referring to me as the “arrowhead of the parasitic capitalist class and the mouthpiece of their lies and propaganda.”
In the Sixth Senate, he and Professor Jubril Aminu sat directly behind me. Both were of the same generation at the University of Ibadan, a pioneering, truly knowledgeable, passionate and rabidly patriotic generation with acidic humor and self-assessment and abasement.
Both worthy emissaries of their alma mater and generation, were unrelenting in reminding of my insufficiencies, not to patronize but to challenge me to stand up to them, in a way to induct me as an honorary member of their class, a task I found most amusing as I couldn’t understand who in his right senses would rather belong to an analogue, ancient generation.
I always reminded them that their efforts at this recruitment was suspect, because though they were of the same generation, they belonged to two diametrically opposed ends of the ideological spectrum; Prof. Aminu was as conservative as Comrade was radical, united only by the commonality of their intellectualism.
In the Seventh Senate, Comrade, again, sat directly behind me and his office was directly below mine. No opportunity was lost for his mental brickbats whether in the chambers or from the balcony of his office. He was relentless in driving himself and exerted himself to the very limits of his great endowments. I always wondered to him if he had any spare time as he was always engaged.
He spent unusually long hours in his office behind stacks and stacks of papers. Even when he walked he was clearly engrossed in his thoughts. When he spoke, he was forthright, spoke straight from the heart and remained true to his ideology and faith. Sometimes, dismissive and brash, he could also be disarmingly charitable especially when you proved to him that his position on an issue was untenable.
Though in politics he never played politics with people; people were his essence, especially the common people, they were his life.
Comrade, by his life, demonstrated a number of possibilities; that rectitude was possible in public life, that intellectualism and public life were compatible, that ideological purity was possible in a milieu of convenience, that only the truly great are truly humble, that honest service brought enduring glory, and that a good name is better than gold.
Do we mourn Comrade? Or do we celebrate him?
The Book of Life, the Bible, tells us that “There is a time for everything and a time for every activity under a time to be born and a time to die a time to plant and a time to uproot a time to Kill and a time to heal a time to tear down and a time to build a time to weep and a time to laugh a time to mourn and a time to dance a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them a time to embrace and a time to refrain a time to search and a time to give up a time to keep and a time to throw away a time to tear and a time to mend a time to be silent and a time to speak a time to love and a time to hate a time for war and a time for peace—Ecclesiastes 3,1-8.
To Comrade, the above eternal words appear tailor-made and customized. His life was rich and full enough for him to have seen every time contemplated above.
In other words, he saw it all. I believe he also knew that God set eternity in the human heart and that there was nothing better for a person than to be happy and do good while alive. Comrade also knew that whatever God does endures forever and that “God will bring into judgement both the righteous and the wicked,for there will be a time for every activity, a time to judge every deed” Ecclesiastes ,3,17 Psalm 90:10 says “Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty if our strength endures” Comrade made it past 70 and was heading for 80 but because of the assurance of his presence, we are tempted to forget Gods promise.
There is nothing to mourn about Comrade but everything to celebrate about him. He served God directly and served God through man.
He, along with Senators Ita Enang and Nenadi Usman coordinated the Prayer Breakfast. He he did not die. Why should we mourn him?
He is history, made history and lives in our hearts, why should we not celebrate him? Why won’t I celebrate a great one who would indulge me to claim friendship with him? Why won’t we celebrate one who celebrated the color white in his sartorial choices, the color of his cars and his heart?
He was bold, he was true, he was pure in spite of his human frailties. Let’s celebrate the best that a human can possibly be.
Good night great one, good night Champion of the weak, good night the one who dared so he could win, good night to the one who believed in Nigeria and what Nigeria could and can be.
Goodnight Comrade.
*Ndoma-Egba is Senate Leader.
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