Sometimes we meet people in this short life we live in and we don’t want to ever forget them. Even though our faiths differ I can never forget Kolomi Dala. A real gentle man per excellence of the Nigerian media. He was the government house reporter of the TVC till he bowed out of humanity. A jolly good fellow who was sometimes misunderstood by those who believe in false standards and artificiality. Kolomi was human like all of us, made mistakes like we do but hated so badly the pull him down syndrome which was pervasive among some friends. He was a stickler for discipline and professionalism in the job. Kolo hated male gossips meant to divide friendship and fought against it. He was open and transparent. It’s been three years today he kicked the bucket full of so many hopes such as taking care of his aged mother who became a widow some years to his. He had a sense of history, deep inner strength about him to keep his siblings together. And of course carried himself with reciprocate respect wherever he traversed as a journalist.
Dear Kolomi, sometimes I remember your banters and I just smile to myself because you were as natural as I am. “Baba Egba” you would call me and I will always give you the kind of smile each banter befits. You were one spirit being that could sense when one is low in morale and you assist the fellow to return to stability. With or without your trade mark bottle of coca cola you were just your self very amiable and charitable to all.
I remember when you took me to your home in Didari Polo. Meandering through those murky flood waters in one rainy season. Introduced me to your wife and children and then we had some drinks with your usual coke beside you. We went after a report on attacks by the insurgent at polo together. A very brave journalist perhaps due to your military background.
Ethnic pretenses and religious inhibitions were no barriers for you. You were impatient with young people who did not want to crawl before working and took each day as it comes. You will charge but I was always there to calm you down reminding you that you were then a civilian. I called you Kolo while some people call you General especially when they see your former juniors at the nda scampering to extend military complements to you whenever we have meets at the headquarters of Operation Hadin Kai inside the 7division of the Nigerian Army.
Kolo my friend, you had what it takes to read through anyone and you would know if this one is a pretender or not. Good Samaritan or the devil himself. Friend who should advance further in our circle or enemy and you will quickly advise me to raise up my guards if the fellow was pseudo human. You despised lying colleagues because you were straight jacket in your ways.
Paddy mi, I know that you were a family man and a kind father to your daughters always responding to their sweet tooth when going home from the press centre where we used to hang out and kill time waiting for the next sound of mortar bombs or improvised explosive devices (IED) so we know where to run to after Jide had grilled you live on “journalist hang out” . And you understood all the sounds including those that came from the muna garage axis after the customs barracks not close by.
When the Almighty God gave you the upper hand, and you moved to your new residence close to Giwa barracks. You took me along again to see the new place with enough space and trees we used to sit and chat about your days and exploits in the navy where you served humanity before fate brought you into journalism. Unlike artificial humans, you were not ashamed of anyone you called your friend and will defend such a person come rain or sunshine. And because you could see through colleagues and news makers, it was easier to know when physical traps were set for us. And we will “jump and pass” as it is said in pidgin English. As for simplicity, you were gifted with that phenomenon which is why certain elements I describe as enemies of progress seized advantage of it to harm you psychologically. I will never forget strange things you told me of how people you took as your little ones stabbed your fragile heart, ripped it open and walked off with glee in their vindictive eyes. And how you couldn’t process that in spite of your tough background. They have done their worse like those who operate from revered cultic societies ready to harm anyone who dares look them in the eyes.But of all mankind they are the most useless before our creator. They back bite and do not understand how to love. When they despise their brothers they see, how then will they claim to love God that they cannot see until they transform to immortality to rest yonder? Rest on Kolo. My regards to all our dutiful colleagues who fell into the trenches of life’s struggles from the correspondents chapel and the entire council of the Nigerian Union of journalists (NUJ) Borno state council. Regards to your Dad who until his demise was the Guardian angel of your life who wanted the best for you and your siblings. For us, we are still tugging on. And we shall live to tell the full story one day.
Your buddy, Baba Egba.
