Onwa Ikenna Ndaguba: One year after

He is a man worth remembering for so many reasons including his historic contributions to the nation as a broadcaster, entertainer and educator. Despite the fact that he and I were both separated by time, generation, geography, vocation, and space, Onwa Ndaguba had already become a professional colossus by the time I cut my teeth […]

He is a man worth remembering for so many reasons including his historic contributions to the nation as a broadcaster, entertainer and educator. Despite the fact that he and I were both separated by time, generation, geography, vocation, and space, Onwa Ndaguba had already become a professional colossus by the time I cut my teeth in the public arena and met him formally.

Despite the difference in time and space, it is hard to find any literate Nigerian who could claim not to have come in contact with him directly or indirectly. His class, stature, professional composure, character, polish, sheer eloquence and poise had already endeared him to Nigeria and Nigerians as one of a special breed of professional broadcasters. He was, to be sure, the unofficial face of all that was professional in the media in Nigeria. He carried all that stature and presence to events and his elegance and panache were always the icing on the cake of official Presidential functions. He had become the unofficial Presidential Master of Ceremonies. Like millions of other Nigerians, I loved the man and hoped that our paths would cross but I did not know how.

I think we first met in the office of Justice AminaAugie in Ikoyi in 1997. The late Barrister Genevieve, a close friend of Justice Augie and I had scheduled a meeting in her office and it was while we were waiting that Onwa Ndaguba turned up. Justice Augie introduced us and the sentiments of appreciation were mutual. From there, we did not require any further navigational aids because we found our direction. We spoke now and again and ran into one another.

I watched a documentary of his 70thbirthday which was aired on the Nigerian Television Authority during which an innocuous narrative by his wife Carol, caught my attention and gave me the ingredient for teasing him.

I recall that Ihad caught the programme midway and it was at the point where she was being asked how she met her husband. She said something to the effect that the young Ikenna had prefixed an introduction of himself with an apology over the quality of his diction and his poor Igbo or English. Speaking German, he claimed, had affected the quality of his accent and would she please bear with his faltering diction?  The sheer thought of a young Igbo man who had sojourned in Germany and spoke German in those days was enough to sweep her off her feet. As they say, one thing led to the other.

According to Carol, after a few years of marriage, she wondered aloud: Ikenna, this German that you spoke about. I have not heard you speak it on the phone, I have not seen you reading a German newspaper nor do you have a German record. How is that so? Ikenna’s response was that he had cooked up this German story to get her attention but in reality, he spoke not a word of the language!

This was the only thing I took out of the interview and wow, did Onwa suffer in my hands over this falsification of his identity? I never stopped re-telling the story and pulling his leg in other to expose him each time I met him with someone different. I accused him of obtaining love under false pretence! I would occasionally call him on the phone and ask if he would rather that we spoke in German or just manage English?

I have fond memories of OnwaIkenna, but the one that takes the cake took place at the International Conference Centre, Abujain 2008 at a public event.  I had come in rather late and simply took a seat at the back of the hall. I had no idea that anyone had noticed my presence apart from the few people at the back seat. I refused an offer to go up to the high table. Obviously someone had blown my cover we had not made eye contact with Onwa.  He stepped to the microphone and said: It is now my pleasure to call on Fr Kukah to please come and say the closing prayers for us. I was quite uneasy, but as I stood up and walked towards the high microphone, one Alhaji whom I did not even know, stood up, adjusted his babanriga and shouted from his seat: Point of correction, Sir. He is no more Fr Kukah. He is now Monsignor Kukah.

As I approached him, Onwa Ndaguba reluctantly hissed some faint apology over calling me Fr Kukah. He did not seem sorry by this breach of protocol. When I finished the prayer, one of his aides said to him: Onwa, you should be ashamed that it is a Muslim who is correcting you on Monsignor Kukah’s new status. Unrepentant, OnwaIkenna placed his hands on my shoulder and said: Please, tell the Pope that we are all very pleased that he has recognized and honoured you. We are indeed proud of this and know you deserve it. But, please, please, tell the Pope that much as we thank him for this honour, we prefer to continue to call you Fr Kukah. You know, he said pointedly and tapped my shoulder for greater effect, Fr Kukah is a brand and it should remain so!

We spoke occasionally but Ihad no idea that Onwa Ndaguba had fallen ill. I heard of his sickness purely by accident through my friend, Honourable Emeka Ihedioha, Deputy Speaker of the Federal House of Representatives. Hon Emeka had come to see and apologized over the fact that he has stopped to see Onwa. That was how I got to know of his sickness. I got a description finally traced the house.

When I entered the house, the houseboy welcomed me but made it clear that it would be hard for me to see Oga. I asked if madam was in, and he said yes. I said, please, go and tell them that I have come from Germany to greet him and I only speak German. Looking rather confused, the young man went upstairs. He soon returned to take me upstairs because my false German identity had worked. As the bedroom door opened, despite his pains, Onwa gave me a smile: I knew it had to be you and your German pranks, he said.

His radiance was still there but clearly, the illness had taken its toll on him. His body was in pain, but his faith was strong. We spent some time together with him, his wife and a pastor who had also come to visit. In the end, we finally prayed together.  As I got up to go and we both smiled, I felt that the end was not too far away. Then he said: You have become a bishop now. I thank God that it has happened in my lifetime. I doubt that I will be in Sokoto, but tell the Pope, I will still call you Fr Kukah. I hugged him on his bed and bade him good-bye. Carol showed me around their highly artistic house, evidence that Onwa was not just a media man but also an accomplished artist. It looked more like a writer’s haven.

Onwa was indeed a great Nigerian and a statesman. His generation inspired many media men and women who have found a more prosperous life in the microphone. He always had a way with words and could always rise up to the occasion. With a voice like yours, I believe the angels will find your voice fit for their choir and St. Peter might find your sense of order and finesse useful for his Protocol Department in Heaven.

Thank God you, I hope at the gate of Heaven, you realised that you did not have to impress anyone and there was no need to claim any foreign language since they do not speak German in Heaven and there is no Carol to impress. You were, as Nat King Cole would say, just purely and simply, Unforgettable!

Reve. Kukah is the Catholic Bishop of the Diocese of Sokoto, Nigeria