As I write this piece, I am in the village, recalling with nostalgia how Comrade Ifeanyi Obi would have set everything aside to be with me on an evening like this.
Today marks exactly seven days since my father-in-law, Okwa Johnson Ajieh Ugbeleme, began his final journey on earth with his Service of Songs.
Comrade Obi’s country home in Ugiliamai is so strategically located that I must pass it every day unless I stay indoors. The house now wears a fresh coat of paint, apparently in preparation for his burial ceremony, but the bustle it was once known for is no longer there. The compound is silent, even the gate is locked. As Catholics would say, “Onye lote onwu…”
As a true friend, Comrade Ifeanyi Obi would have been by my side throughout the burial proceedings. But death came calling, and like all mortals, he answered.
It is difficult to use the word “was” for him, because he lives on in the hearts of those who loved him. He handled the affairs of the National Union of Road Transport Workers (NURTW) as though his entire life depended on the union’s success.
Most people may not know this, but Comrade Obi operated as a union member in Upper Iweka, Onitsha, for several years before the union was formed in Asaba in the defunct Bendel State. He served faithfully and rose to become the Delta State Chairman of the union. Upon completing his tenure in the state, he became a national officer of the NURTW.
Comrade Obi was a formidable force in the union, a household name in Abuja. In Delta State, while he was a messiah to many, he was a terror to others.
He was a man who never abandoned his friends. All he needed was the truth; once given that, he would stick his neck out and do whatever it took to support you.
When I was the Chairman of the Nigeria Union of Journalists (NUJ), The Pointer Chapel, Comrade Obi would mobilize NURTW members to join us in our annual “March for Democracy” on May 29. He also sponsored most of the refreshments at the Squash Club, where our walk from The Pointer premises on Nnebisi Road typically ended.
He was always a friend to the press, warm, accessible, and welcoming to journalists regardless of their media organization.
Comrade Obi took the highest chieftaincy title in the land as Ogbuiji and was addressed as Ubefulunienyi (Ubefulunienyi kwu we ji na atugbu Enyi), which literally translates to,“the spear that befits an elephant is what is used to kill an elephant.”
As a chief, a traditionalist, and a unionist, Chief Obi understood the importance of traditional leadership in a community. For decades, he worked vigorously to unite the Onicha-Ukwuani clan under a king, though this vision was not realized before his passing. Who knows? Someone may yet pick up the mantle from where he stopped.
As stated earlier, some may not describe Comrade Obi as a saint, but to those of us who were close to him, he had a good heart. He was a man I could call at any hour of the day or night, and he would never hesitate to answer if only to ensure that all was well with me.
It is also, naturally impossible to be the Chairman of the NURTW without having able-bodied men at your beck and call, and Comrade Obi had them across the state and beyond. I still remember calling him late one night to report that some “men” were making noise in my neighborhood. Within minutes, a squad of his men arrived at my gate on a rescue mission.
No great man dies without controversy surrounding his passing. As expected, various stories surfaced when he died. Some continue to speak of him in hushed tones, others mourn his departure, and some even celebrate it, all because he was a man of immense stature.
Plans are underway to lay him to rest on Friday, October 30, at his country home in Ugiliamai, Ndokwa West Local Government Area of Delta State. As befits a man of his stature, the people of Ugiliamai, the Otu Ogbuijis of Utagba ni Onicha, members of the NURTW, the political class, and many others will gather to honour his legacy and participate actively in his burial.
John 8:7 reminds us clearly: “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone…”
Ube, as I fondly called him, was a devoted family man. His residences at Ezenei Avenue and Obodo Achala in Asaba were always so filled with people that a visitor could hardly distinguish between guests and his biological children, so great was the love he showered on his household. He valued education, sponsoring the studies of many people, including those outside his family and going further to ensure that several of them secured gainful employment.
As a unionist, he embraced life fully. We would stay out until the early hours of the morning, simply enjoying moments that brought us joy.
For a man who lived life so fully and possessed such an intimidating stature, it was only natural for health challenges to accompany old age. I recall finding him gravely ill about ten years ago and rushing him to Maduemezie Hospital, where the doctors worked tirelessly to save his life. But as one of my friends would say, “No one lives a second beyond the time allotted to them by God.”
To say I miss him is an understatement. As I sit under this Ube tree reminiscing about life, I half-expect him to drive in as he used to. We would set the table, play old Ubulu songs that brought back fond memories, and sit together until morning, debating whether he should head home or stay for breakfast.
Ube, what can one write, and what can one leave unsaid about you?
Against all odds, you came, you lived, and you passed at the age of 74 surpassing the Biblical threescore years and ten.
You were bold, fearless, and resolute. Where others hesitated, your conviction carried you forward, and no counter-advice could sway you, for you were indeed Ubefulunienyi.
Adieu!
By Fidelis Egugbo
