By Ngozi Oyiridiya Elechi-Umeh
Dear daddy, I have been numb since your passing. It is still very unreal to me. I began to realize that it could be true when I was told I needed to write a tribute to my father. Daddy, I don’t know where to start from. I have so much to say to you, Daddy, but how can I do that now? Death has taken you away from me.
I was looking forward to having a very long conversation and updating you, Chief (Sir) Elechi Uche (Aka Ji Mmuta 1 of Alayi) HSC, Bsc (HON) PGD, Msc, TFG, KJN, JP, on everything during your recovery party this Christmas. Little did I know we would be burying you instead. I have questioned God, I have questioned the universe. Why did it have to happen at this time that I needed you the most?
Your wisdom, large collection of intellectual prowess and strict principles have been my guiding lamp as I navigate through different stages of life. You simplified the art of teaching and learning so much so that it became fun for me. I recall so many fun moments we shared together while I was growing up. Particularly when you were trying to teach me how to distinguish between “Descriptive” and “Narrative Essays.” “Oyiri m,” as you fondly called me, “Stand by the fence and observe people as they go about their businesses, write down what you see, and tell me a story about your observation.”
I also recall when you made me your acting PA at age 14 to take minutes during family meetings and also help arrange and file your work documents on the shelves. These simple techniques of yours played a major role in honing my writing and administrative skills. I am where I am today because I was lucky and opportune to have learnt from a very wise man who, coincidentally, was my dear father.
You were the most disciplined, sincere, transparent and hardworking man I knew. You wouldn’t let us go to anyone for help. You provided for us even when the odds were against you. You taught me how to rely on myself. You made me understand that hard work and dedication pay in the end. During one of your many counselling, you once told me, “My daughter, what I, your father, cannot do for you, and you cannot do for yourself, never expect anyone to do it for you.”
Those became my everyday watchwords. It is from you that I learnt integrity is better than wealth (“Ezi aha ka ego”). You stood by the truth, always, no matter the circumstances. Whenever I am in a dilemma, I ask myself “What would my father do?” I always choose the path of truth, and it has never failed me, Dad. Transparency was like a second skin to you. Throughout the period you worked, you would always bring back your payslip and show it to all of us so we would know how much you earned. And when you got paid, you would announce it in our family meetings and ask us to submit our various requests.
When you and mum came to live with me in Lagos, I was in high heavens because I knew my daughter Chimamanda was about to have the best childhood ever. I was looking forward to you helping her out with her schoolwork, and guiding her through other facets of life as she grew. And, perhaps, allow her to be your PA and help put your pension documentation in other. Daddy, Chimamanda still goes to the foot of the staircase every morning to wait for grandpa to come down so she can show you her new toys and paintings. Dear Daddy, I don’t know how to tell her you will no longer come downstairs. I don’t know how to tell her you have gone up forever, to come down no more.
In this very dark period of my life, I take solace in the fact that one day, we will meet again to part no more. Rest on, my dear Daddy. You have left a vacuum in my life that I know will never be filled again.