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
