The revolutionary ghost of Thomas Isidore Noël Sankara!

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I was eight years old. The day was October 15, 1987. I can still remember that there was a palpable sense of loss to the African continent that made no sense to me at the time. There was an unmistakable sadness and even tears in the streets and some homes. As I grew older and became more aware of the issues which enmesh the continent of Africa, the magnitude and enormity of that loss became clearer to me. As I watched him and read about him and followed his life, I was drawn to learn and to know more about this controversial yet iconic leader called Thomas Isidore Noël Sankara. An imperfect man, a rare ilk of men, whom like us all could have many aspects of his life and leadership questioned but he stepped out and stood out from the crowd of lookalikes on these two: love of country and hatred for corruption. His patriotism is undeniable and uncommon, his integrity and love for his people and country backed by the simple life he lived and a believe that his country like all African countries has what it takes to offset the backwardness from years of colonialism. He was a visionary, a leader with a back bone, exuberant in his youth, and fearless in the exposition and pursuit of his ideals whether before God, countrymen, citizens of the world or other presidents irrespective of whether they were from the North, South, East or the West. Sankara was a gift that was brutally taken away before he could be fully unparceled. He was a rare gem who came to his people packaged as a man of dedicated simplicity, so simple his true value can be easily and deceptively misconstrued. Thomas Sankara like all true revolutionaries was liked by some, questioned by many, hated by others and fatally betrayed by one.


His chief betrayer was his best friend and second in command, a puppet to the west who, consumed by his own ambition, mocked friendship, steeled his nerves, stabbed trust and loyalty in the heart and killed his friend and boss. For 27 years he has lived with the ensuing and brewing consequences of his actions. Blaise Compaore, deluded by his personality cult, with his own hands has poured the fuel and struck the match which ends his reign. Two weeks after the anniversary of Sankara's death, his ghost shows up, stoking the revolutionary embers which lay in wait since his death, enveloping the spirit which now sees the people of Burkina Faso say enough is enough... when you spit at the wind you spit at your face... the people of Burkina Faso got tired of being endlessly kicked around by Blaise Compaore's boots and books of oppression, they grew wearily tired of living by the sea and washing their hands with spittle. Blaise Compaore is given a little taste of his own medicine sprinkled and steeped in grace as his life is spared. The people of Burkina Faso rise up in kindred spirit to identify with the man who said "It took the madmen of yesterday for us to be able to act with extreme clarity today. I want to be one of those madmen. We must dare to invent the future." - Thomas Sankara. You can watch "Thomas Sankara: The Upright Man" here:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5USbA701SI

It was Robert F Kennedy who said: “Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events. It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.” Today many Burkinabes strike out against injustice, and send forth many tiny ripples of hope, crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring to build a current which is sweeping down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance in Burkina Faso. 

God bless Burkina Faso... Long live Burkina Faso and may it become and transform into a land of learning, excellence, growth and sustained prosperity.

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

The NOs which made me grow!

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It was the first NO,
Then the second, third, fourth NO,
Successive loud resounding NOs,
So many I lost count of all the NOs,
They were not walls that made it impossible for me to grow,
They were nature's compass to re-calibrate me towards paths I didn't know,
I sank and sank and sank and dug deeper and deeper until I hit rock bottom low,
It was my only chance to ever hit those precious treasures buried very low,
When I let the failures go I could see where I needed to go,
Away from countless many foes,
Bringing a welcome fluidity to my flow,
Every once in a while there was an unwelcome snow,
Which made me go a little slow,
But no matter what I kept going so I always had some progress to show,
Through adversity I learned to deal better with all the curve balls nature's bound to throw,
Every once in a while I knew the exhilarating joy of rising like yeast laden dough,
And somehow on these redirected paths I met my beau,
In the heat of the moments I didn't know the NOs came to make me grow,
So focused on the disappointing pain I was not open to know,
Thankfully I found the grace to tell the distracting despair No,
Maybe this is your season of NOs,
And they make you very low,
Remember that sometimes to mine the precious gems we need to dig very low.

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Child of the ghetto!

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Child of the ghetto,

Deft with the stiletto,

Picking his humanity from the drains,

Bound by invisible heavy chains,

Drugs, rape, violence, gangsterism,

Target of a psychic militarism,

Tired of the stigma,

Mired in endless drama,

Determined not to be a victim,

He became broken,

Embraced the love which came with a pricey tagged token,

If he had never been broken,

He could not be mended,

For he had been too bended,

Evil easily blended,

He was drowning,

This is no clowning,

Drowning men don't save themselves,

An angel unexpectedly showed up,
In human mentoring form,

Holding the key,

To his brand new person,

He gave it to him in person,

It was no easy walk,

It was harder than cheap talk,

He engaged the new journey,

Obeying every engagement rule,

Tempted to be stubborn like a mule,

He hooked up to the those who know the path,

And began to learn science and math,

Like the butterfly from the caterpillar,

A gentleman emerges,

As the ghetto dies in him,

He is now headed for beyond the stars,

This can be your story,

But you must acknowledge the problem,

You are like a patient,

And wouldn't get help if you don't find a doctor,

The medicine might be terrible,

Depending on how bad you want your cure,

You will be ready to endure. 

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Hows and whys that deepen the mystery and invite a confusing fog!

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Why? and How? are both wings of the innovative shuttle that has been ridden by individuals and corporations to new horizons of concretized possibilities, to realities thought once upon a time to be only a pipe dream in the figment of the imagination. From the simple question why? how? the genius of innovation has been known countless times to have sprung to life and ideas which have forever changed the course of man have been pursued to reality on the wings of those 2 simple questions.

However I am almost sure to assert that there are also times when each and every one of us who cares to ponder the difficult questions of life, has been trapped face to face with and asking gargantuan WHYs? and HOWs?... each one of them pregnant with countless little whys? and hows? There are certain whys and hows which draw us in only to deepen the mystery around a given circumstance and cast an overhead fog of confusion. Those moments when you ponder that senseless loss of youthful life, cut short at its prime and wonder why? how did it all happen? Those moments when your hard work only seems to be rewarded in diminishing returns and you seem punished for your best efforts… those times when you try so hard and yet fail so bad… those moments when you are desperately looking for a child and have explored all avenues to no avail only to look around and find little boys and girls conceive from casual sex and abort the same babies you so direly seek and desire… those days when loneliness strikes its worst blow and it looks like that companion, husband or wife will never show up… those waits that look like an eternity… waiting for that dream job, for that scholarship, for that visa, for the business venture to pick up, for that loved one to be healed, for that forgiveness, for that joy, for that nameless breakthrough… those waits which feel like a whole eternity in bondage… those days when heaven appears non existent and God might as well have absconded or abdicated his throne… those days when your health suddenly begins to fail without any warning… you wonder why you are here? why you are chasing those dreams? why you are in love? why you feel so helpless? why your flesh is so weak when the mind is so willing? those days, and moments and circumstances which force you to ask why? why? why? how did it came about? How? how?... and every time you ask you are greeted with a resounding dark, grim, overpowering, and frightfully paralyzing silence which ushers in only more questions, more mystery, more confusion… Those moments that humble you and remind you that you are not in as much control as you have deluded yourself to think you are for no one, no one, I mean no one can say with certainty that tomorrow they will be here…so the million dollar question is why worry? why bother? the question is why?

Sometimes it makes all the difference in the world to toss the question on its head and add a little ‘not’ at the end of it… why not? How not? For me in those times I can only find the consolation to salve my sanity as I continue to probe in the reassurance that I have a God for whom it is more important to Him that I know Him more intimately in those times than any answers to any questions I might ask… sometimes it is enough to know that He is there, through it all.. Next time you ask why? also ask why not? Next time you ask how, also ask how not?

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Your love is true!

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I am not drunk with any emotional high,

My reason not clouded by raw unanchored feelings,

I am busy doing what I really love,

Yet I still manage to take a break from it to think of you,

You open your mouth to sing and the birds go hush to listen,

When you smile, 

Darkness hides and the moon retreats as an unworthy competitor,

You walk and all the cats protest in jealous rage at your grace,

A sweet smelling fragrance erupts from your fragile self,

Wafts like an attractive force around the globe,

From the perfect strivings of your imperfect self,

You love's shows up like the earth,

Through the seasons,

Through the bite and sting of winter cold,

And the scathing heat of summer days,

Through the beauty and nakedness of Fall,

Through the freshness and bloom of springtime,

Through countless repeated daily cycles,

Cycles of daylight when the sun shows up in brilliant splendor,

Retreats to hide its beauty and its warmth,

And night time takes over enveloping all with darkness,

Your love is truly ever present,

Through stormy days,

Through rainbow days,

Like the earth your love is always there,

... always there, always here and always there... 

In one form or the other,

Battered maybe, flickering maybe, struggling maybe,

Patched maybe, gasping for second wind maybe but always there,

Always here, Ever present...

Your love is true,
So true it makes me question the verity of mine,

And it is always a gift from you to me,

So strong it makes my best "thank you" the weakest phrase!

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

The Agonizing Pain and Hopeful Gaze of Mother Africa!

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Mama painfully agonizes over history and now,

Gazes into countless tomorrows with anticipatory hope,
Oh the pain of mama Africa,
The pain of a mother,
Who has gone through labor after labor,Birth pangs after birth pangs,Only to see all the children she suckled,
Suckled and nursed with undying motherly love,With scant exception turn into rogue states ,The pain of a mother seeing once brightly hopeful children turned awry,
All the pain in hell could not make up her sum,

But like a true African mother,
There is no quenching of her love,
No extinguishing of her hope,
No ceasing in her prayers,
And as the future beckons still,
She prays:
That these children will realize,
That they might have gone too far down the wrong road,
But the way back is still open and they can re-calibrate their tracks,
She prays, That the mighty God will set and direct their steps on the right path,
That they be endowed with a rare spirit of sacrifice,
And compassion and love for one another,
That they will not be imbued with that uncommon apathy,
That nonchalance in the apathy which plagues the land,
That they will be sewn together with an uncommon empathy,
That empathy which takes selfishness to task and suffocates its paralyzing grip,
She prays,
For the strength to strangle corruption, nepotism and all the viral isms,
She prays,
That a better tomorrow will soon come,
That all who call themselves sons and daughters of the soil,
Will assume responsibility to lead the changes,
And have a committed stake in the affairs that will bring the countries,
And the continent as a whole a little closer every day,
To the pill that will heal the bleeding on her aching heart,
To prosperity which will restore mama Africa's dislocated smile,

So until we take up and face these lofty challenges in one form or another,
In ways big and small, from near or from afar,
We can be sure to a right to only one thing:
As far as the continent’s woes are concerned - shut up,
For willingness alone will not do,Ability alone will not do,Procrastination will not do,
Just take them on in concrete actions,
One action at a time,
For one of mankind's purest joys is that of overcoming,
Through unfathomable odds!

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Fear of love as volatile morning dew on blades of grass

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Sometimes love’s like the morning dew on blades of grass,

Quickly disappearing under the rays of the rising sun,

So reach out to love where it may be found,

It may only come to you where you are down,

Reach out with love wherever you are found,

Someone down may need it to turn their life around,

Pray to not be afraid to love,

No doubt love carries with it a potent risk for hurt,

And the greater the love the greater the risk,

You desperately want to believe that love is a vaccine for hurt,

But truly love has no real value without that risk,

No value without that sacrificial price,

Something ethereally mysterious,

With power to conjure both rabid desire and paralyzing fear,

Like a potent cloud with answers to the promise of needed rain,

And the fear of destabilizing potential floods,

I know you want it even though you fear it,

For nobody can be happy without it,

Choke the fear and give love a chance,

For like Mother Theresa said,

When we love until it hurts,

There is no more hurt only love,

And if you ever did err,

Let it be on the side of love,

Never on the side of fear,

While it is okay to fear to love,

Never act out of the fear of love,

Yes love can be as volatile as liquid nitrogen,

Seize it before it is gone,

When you are confused and know not how to act,

Just love – long term you can never go wrong with love,

Not the love described with childlike facility in Hollywood,

But the love whose running currency is an intentional deliberate intelligent sacrifice.

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Stop the hypocrisy!

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If you put your hands over your nose at the stench of corruption,

Don't give a bribe and don't take one,

If you want to see the end of illiteracy,

And communally experience the buoying invigoration of emancipating education,

Send a child to school,

Take another under your wings and teach' em what you know,

If you hate the hunger in the world,

Feed a hungry mouth today,

If you hate the hatred in the world,

Love somebody and give them permission to do the same,

Let joy overflow from your heart to light up a needy, sad and gloomy world,

If you hate the frowning in the world,

Put a smile on a face today,

Wear it as your favorite make up,

If you hate the dirty streets,

Don't litter them yourself,

By the way please pick up that littered paper by your side.

To echo Mahatma be the change you want to see,

Do the things you want to see,

The littlest tiny drops of water still comprise the changing tides of the mightiest seas,

So stop the hypocrisy.

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Say something I am looking everywhere for you!

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Give me a sign I am looking everywhere for you,
I look for signs of you in every face from every race,
I listen for steps of you in every gait from every gate,
Say something I am looking everywhere for you,
When I am tired and weary and can no longer walk,
Somehow I manage to find the strength to crawl,
Been through one too many brawls,
My vision dimmed by the endless search,
I stumble and stagger and fall and remind myself I cannot stop,
Scream something I am looking everywhere for you,
Fun is I am incapable of knowing whether I'll know if I ran into you,
Make some noise I am looking everywhere for you,
An important search mission to rescue us from wait,
I encounter countless distractions of many forms,
Have weathered numerous violent storms,
Say something I am not giving up on you!

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

You are a beguiling charm - I refuse to let thinking cloud my judgment!!

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You are a beguiling charm,
One I cannot resist,
There must be something I have missed,
For I am three quarters agony,
One quarter hope,
Hope couched in a love that evades me,
As I am irresistibly drawn to one I cannot have,
One I cannot keep.

I try to cope as I grope to find my way,
And realize if there is any shred of honesty  in me,
Then I can deny this no more,
For my salvation from these punishing emotions,
Lies in breathing out this age long wish,
Reintroducing you to the heart you colonized,
And captured and then abandoned two score years ago,
In pursuit of distracting adventures which now bring you home,
To where you belong,
What you have been looking for,
This longing heart,
I refuse to let thinking cloud my judgment!

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

One step - the only way to eat an elephant!

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Begins with the first step,
Progresses with the next step,
Ends with the last step,
All you need is one step,
One more step,
Just one,
Only one,
One more,
It is all you need strength for,
All you need energy for,
All you need focus for,
One more,

There is only one way to eat an Elephant,
One bite at a time!

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

The slip that whips and tortures my mind

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Dear Nsohnwi,

Somehow I refused to believe that a day will ever come,

When a FuhNiba triggered amnesia rocks your mind so hard,

Because I screwed up,

Out of human frailty,

Not out of any malicious scheme to harm,

Not out of any Machiavellian concoction to hurt,

But only because I slipped,

Terrible slip but a slip all the same,

Like everyone invariably sometimes does,

Even though you held my hand I still managed to fall,

From my fallen state I heard you call.

Because I screwed up big time,

Fine memories of a beautiful past are suddenly obliterated,

As if they never ever happened or existed,

Leaving a vacuum of time and past experiences,
Work and toil of countless years rubbished thanks to a careless smear,

A whole armor is flung to an age of memory lapses by aching pain,

When mending could make it whole again,

While I am immeasurably sorry and share your pain,

I wish you wouldn’t forget so soon,

I prayed you’ll give second and third and fourth chances a chance,

I am held hostage by the nostalgic sting of everything we shared,

Confused by the memories of everything we dared,

Unable to understand why we cannot try to fix this,

I know you have been hurt, and wounded and devastated,

But I am here to try to make it right again,

This slip that tortures and whips my mind,

I take full responsibility so give me a chance to set us back on course.

Repentantly,

With a love that even this terrible slip could not diminish,

FuhNiba

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Nakedness which announces the break of dawn!

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They part with the monotony of the verdant garb,
And don colors of every hue that paint on the canvass of autumn air,
Streaks of beauty matchlessly picturesque,
Dancing in the celebratory song sang by the gentle autumn breeze,
One last attempt at a joyous gladness,
Before they strip nude,
Baring their whole physiology and anatomy,
In an intelligent act of nature which gives the season its name,
One of the reasons I miss Ames Iowa,
One leaf after the other they fall,
Until a nakedness which announces the break of dawn,
The brief dawn of winter,
Which quickly transforms for many into a long night of cold discontent,
As the animals frantically grow extra layers of fur to cope,
Some go into hibernation until the assault of all the frost bites passes by for that is their only hope,
And mankind change their wardrobes to match the coming times,
For them nakedness is not a viable option.

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Ambivalent Tremors

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Dazed in a stupor of confusion from conflicting feelings which will not settle in any one direction, bipolar and extreme, a sense of right and wrong, angst, relief and pain tugged her from different directions. She picked up her pen and wrote the words:

Dear Ambivalence,

I have prayed for a while now that I will never get to write these words and that even if I ever had to write them, they will not be in a letter addressed to you... but here am I, sitting here, traumatized by guilt, hurt, steeped in pain yet convinced that it is the right thing to do. I have not come to this place easily... ah the agony which has rocked the path... it is amazing how a conviction of right can feel so wrong. I have given this careful thought, wrestled with every word, rationalized every feeling, debated every justification, and I have come to the unavoidable conclusion that for your good and mine, we stand at a junction in our relationship which offers us the gift of a forked path that we must separately take or forever be miserable on a single path to life imprisonment plus hard labor.

You have no opinions, say neither yes nor no, you quibble, have no positions on issues, and are constantly shirking the tough questions. I have struggled to find your identity and while you come forth as a sweet human being with no objections and a flow designed to shadow me, I have often felt like I was spending time with myself. I feel like I interact with a clone of me, a robotic prototype of my mind. Your detachment from taking a stance voids your personality and denies me the chance of getting to know the real you. When the rubber meets the road, I want to minimize as much as humanly possible the embarrassment of meeting you for the first time after I say I do and then life happens and you finally show up.

For our good, for your good and mine, for the sake of a future we still have a chance to salvage before it is wrecked by blind loyalty to a commitment entered in error and without the benefit of reason which happened to be drowned in the pleasantries of sweet emotions at the time, I ask you to understand and join me in moving on, on separate paths. I have your back... always... thank you for everything we shared, everything we learned.

Wishing you everything good you can become and with one last kiss, albeit virtual, I seal this note. 

Tremor.

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

You don’t have to be jealous!

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Looks like you are really serious,

You don’t have to be jealous,

When I give others material things,

In the process I give generosity wings,

Even if I gave the world silver and gold,

I give you something which could not be sold,

I give you something not as cold as gold,

I give you me,

I give you my heart,

I give you my time,

I only give them things because I have no time for them,

And can’t give them what is meant for you.

© October 2014 - afesehngwaHilary

The younger older lady!

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One of the upsides of using public transportation,

When news around the world is recipe for dark and grim and sad,

One is blessed to catch more glimpses of the finer angels of our being,

Seventy may have been the number of her years,

Her legs were tired but her heart was not,

When she saw the older lady who may have been eighty,

With slightly more tired legs,

And more evident scars of the nibbling effects of time,

The younger older lady sprang to her feet quicker than a running bunny,

Yielding her seat in a celebratory act of some of the finest moments of our humanity,

It was quiet,

It was powerful,

It was pedantic,

I stood there flushed with pride for sharing in their lofty humanity,

I stood there feeling blessed to have witnessed it,

Privileged for the opportunity to be hopeful,

I sealed it with an effortless smile,

There are still glimmers of hope burning with unquenchable rigor around the world,

Challenging each and every one of us to stay open to being those pockets of light,

That give our collective humanity might.

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Courage which defies her age – what is your excuse?

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She debunks all myths that wisdom and fortitude only lie in age,

She cuts all threads of logic that a certain age is a requirement,

A requirement to make a difference in a world gone wild with unconcern,

Her breed and ilk is rare,

Her courage is beyond compare,

Her determination second to none,

Her most potent instrument is her tongue,

And an unquenchable desire to learn,

An unquenchable desire to make it possible for others to learn,

She opens up her mouth and speaks anywhere she is,

And somehow the world listens,

Maybe she earned her right to be heard by the bullet she took in her head,

Her assailants made their worst mistake with that fired shot,

For they unleashed the growing power of a voice,

One voice which is in no small manner changing the world,

What is your excuse today?

If it is your age then think again,

Look at the 17 year old Nobel Peace Price winner for 2014,

Her name is Malala Yousafzai,

She has accomplished in a few years,

What many live up to a hundred and never accomplish,

Today I salute her.

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

As if he had swallowed a bulb!

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If your light is faint and you want to shine the brightest light,

The smartest thing to do is to find the darkest night,

A pitch dark night swallowed up every trace of  light in his life,

As he groped through treacherous paths asking and making her his wife,

He held her hand and began to glow as if he had swallowed a bulb in one big gulp,

And then he started to shine as if sourced by light brighter than a thousand suns,

He wasn’t that bright, just that it was so much darker around them,

Even a flicker of light was enough to keep them going,

He suddenly remembered how he walked out of solitary confinement,

Into the larger prison yards and felt as if freedom rang from every wall,

You will appreciate the littlest of things when you are in total lack,

In plenty you dismiss the littlest precious gifts with curses and many barks,

So sometimes the sole purpose of your lack is to feed you a humble pie,

And bring you a happiness pill wrapped in packs of gratitude for the littlest things,
It can make you feel like you deserve a Nobel price for gratitude!

Brussels © October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

He was found nestling at her breasts!

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They were quarantined,

So nobody really worried when they were not seen,

A few days had come and gone,

The only door to their homestead still under lock and key,

As the health workers did a street to street tour to meet the endangered populace,

A weak falsetto cry pierced through the homestead cracks announcing the presence of life,

And when they broke the door to let them in,

They were greeted by the putrid stench of rotting flesh,

The air was so thick with the smell you could cut it with a knife,

Totally oblivious of the grim reality which surrounded him,

He lay there nestling at his dead mother’s breast,

Sucking hard at milk that wouldn’t flow,

The stench of death fed by Ebola camped around him,

A sight so inhumanly despicable many of the health workers cried a river of tears,

A sight that is bound to follow any one to their graves no matter how hard one tried to make it go away,

A sight that is sure to conjure nightmares in your dreams,

A tragedy of unspeakable sorts!

One of the health workers picked him up,

Dazed and confused and numbed by shocking pain,

They gave him a thorough chlorine bath and prayed that by some miracle he would live,

The baby boy found nestling at his mother’s breasts.

Their dog showed up,

Smelling the death,

And was the saddest of them all,

Crying uncontrollably!

©October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Tribute to a man, a teacher, a father - Fare thee well papa… farewell Pa Saboh

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Death is something I have probed and spent a lot of prayerful thought time with and the deeper I probe the more determined it is to hold and keep the eternal promise of its mystery, revealed only to those who pass through the grand portal called death, into the unknown beyond. I wonder why I am always surprised and shocked when something like death which is bound to happen to every one of us without any exception happens. Even in the figment of our wildest imaginations, when we wish and conjure the opposite, wishing to live forever never has and never will translate into concrete reality for any of us. I guess part of the shock that grows instantly to inject a stinging dose of painful reality at the news of death, comes from a vacuum the parting loved one leaves in the house, family, social circles and in our hearts. It comes from the new realization that while their memories live on their physical presence is gone and when we still want to hold them and hug them and talk to them, walking down memory lane will henceforth be our only recourse.

I went to a boarding secondary and high school in the African country of Cameroon. Any account of any of the weeks of the seven years I went to school in Sacred Heart College Mankon, Bamenda would be incomplete without the mention of the man, the teacher, the choir master, the father Mr. Saboh Ivo Peter whom we, his students fondly called Pa Saboh. It is therefore unsurprising that my heart ached and my heart strings were painfully tugged when without warning I learned of the passing on to eternity of this iconic retired teacher of Sacred Heart College Mankon. I will not go into the cause of his death, for from my experience the method of death never really assuaged or eased the pain of the loss.

Like all men Pa Saboh could make no valid claim to perfection, but unlike all men, my memories of him are that he brought an unbridled passion to everything I ever saw him do. He brought his heart to his geography lessons, he brought his heart when he disciplined, he brought his heart to choir practices, he brought his heart when he parented and loved. We would tell a lot of stories, some included here to remember you if we could physically make it to your wake keep… this is to celebrate your life as I knew it.

As a geography teacher Pa Saboh made geography one of the lessons I found impossible to sleep in, whether he was teaching Fishing in Norway, teaching about the Ruhr industrial region or how to read maps amongst other things. It was during your geography lessons that I first learned in a really concrete way that it is possible to travel to and visit places one had never really been to physically thanks to miraculous leaps of an engaging mind and ambitious imagination. I cannot forget how you described these foreign lands like you were born and bred in each of them and reminded us that though you have never been there, you have been there with your mind. You took us to Norway and Germany, with many other places around the world and through different contours on maps to physical landforms we could only imagine. You made them real and brought them to our classrooms.

As discipline master you were a strict disciplinarian, a firm believer in the corrective power of the rod and with it you sometimes made us fear, because sometimes fear was the only incentive to get over 400 boys to do right and be right by right. I particularly remember the countless mornings when we overslept and you showed up and we would get up at the slightest sensing of your coming and run into nearby bushes or hide in lockers until the wave of terror your unmistakable personality brought with you on those cold Mankon mornings ebbed out. I remember how we made many decisions to show up neither for morning mass nor for morning preps after those chases due the undeniable painful consequences of being caught showing up late for any of those important morning starters. You came to the farms with us during manual labor and toiled through with us those Saturday afternoons after essay writing, even if only to keep us company with your good humor and make sure we did the job and did it right. I still remember like it was yesterday when you showed up during preps, countless times, holding a list of noise makers in your hands and how I prayed some of my most fervent prayers during those times for who in their right mind wanted their name on a list of trouble makers in your hand. I have no reason to doubt that you were motivated even in error by right and love.

Pa Saboh you were our choir master for a brief time and who can forget those choir practices we had together… “Glory be to God on high… three four”… and then the whole school chimed in “… and on earth peace …” … priceless memories.

Pa Saboh you were also a father as mentioned above and you brought an impassioned justice and passionate heart to your parenting. I have no recollection of you having favorites with the students – punishment was meted out according to crime, with love and loving words of advice dished out in better measure than the punishment you gave. You gave us two SHESAN brothers and some of us where lucky to come to your home as if it was ours. I have had the honor over the years to know your entire nuclear family, visiting frequently when I was around.

Pa Saboh you gave us countless reasons to laugh and we cannot meet as students during our reunions, at least with my classmates without throwing ourselves into some real fit of laughter because of some funny thing you said or did. We were and are blessed with your priceless sense of humor for it is undeniably one of the things we do remember you for. It was your humor which mostly made you approachable and made us your children look forward to the more pleasant encounters with you.

As you exit the stage of life and lead the way on a path we all are on, make people laugh where ever you go and wherever you are. I am consoled as I usually am in the face of painful death by the timelessly true words of Rabindranath Tagore that "Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come." It is in times like these that my Christianity is especially needful… when I reach my wit’s end.

Fare thee well papa… farewell Pa Saboh…may God meet those you leave behind at their very points of need. You are sorely missed.

© October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

I had forgotten the meaning of love

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Love can be as abstract as it is real,
It was obvious from the way they behaved,
From the look in their eyes,
Her French was limited and her hearing handicap,
That morning I had forgotten the meaning of love,
I looked around and found it flowing from his heart,
To his hand, then through the pen to the paper,
As he translated every French word the preacher said into English,
Passing them on to her as quickly as he could in little notes,

Like the earth wire which taps and brings the charge to earth,
He reached out to the cosmos of his heart, tapping the abstract love,
Bringing it down to earth in a concrete reality of simple yet powerful love,
A love wired to her heart,
A love which made it possible for both of them to listen,
I had forgotten the meaning of love,
But found it written on the bonds which held them close.

© October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

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