Olukorede Williams

When a most revered and admired mentor dies Growing up as a bubbly and inquisitive kid, I had a lot of people I classified as mentors and for a myriad of reasons. Each mentor had a facet of their personality I could viscerally identify with. For some it was their adroit propensity to thrive and succeed immensely against all odds. For others it was their unassailable optimistic approach to life and its vicissitudes. And for yet a few, it was just simply the divine ability to show unconditional love. As glorified as these personalities were, not one of them evoked prodigious awe in me like my grandfather. My grandfather was a man whose life’s story has inspired legions of adoring fans, with me at the vanguard. He was a gentleman extraordinaire. He seamlessly embodied and evinced the kind of character reminiscent of heroes you only hear about from folklore. His personality was a consortium of the aforementioned qualities in my opening paragraph and much more. To witness virtually everybody that had an encounter with him treat him with deference was nothing short of pride and admiration. First and foremost my grandfather was an upright and honest man. To him, his integrity meant everything and wasn’t to be exchanged for wealth untold. He constantly wore it like a badge of honour and eventually came to be canonized as that. This trait earned him countless adulation and prime opportunities in business and commerce. His word was his bond. His name was John Godwin Ovenseri Amadasun. His initials were J.G.O but his peers and contemporaries fondly called him John the Good Officer- JGO. A successful man by all standards, he chose to continually lead a life of humility and temperance. He was always content with the possessions he was blessed with and never coveted ostentatious or fleeting things. However there was no denying that my grandfather lived a robust life of abundance. An extremely well-learned man he was too. His erudite mind knew no bounds. He had the privilege of basking in the educational circles of some of Europe’s finest institutions. I remember how I would waltz into his chambers to engage him in one of our regular discussions and marvel at how much and how far this “sage” of a man knew. In retrospect I will forever cherish those times for as long as I live. My grandfather was a devout family man. As a proud, traditional Bini man he had an extended family. At any given time there were always relatives as well as their own families co-existing under the same roof with him and his own polygamous family. Everyone who had a stint living in my grandfather’s house turned out to be a better person. To say my grandfather was a disciplinarian is an understatement. He was the lord of his manor! My grandfather seemed like the kind of man who could live on forever. I never remotely envisioned what life would be like in his absence. He was that gallant of a warrior - and justifiably so too. He took judicious care of himself over several scores of years: for he died at the age of 92 years. However after what seemed like forever, the inevitability of old age and its accompanying health issues slowly and methodically began to wear him down. It happened so rapidly that it astounded me. In little more than two years he lost ninety percent of his vitality to a combination of geriatric infirmities. In the twilight of his life, I remember looking at him and trying to reconcile the energetic, pro-active patriarch with the now frail, reserved gentleman before me. The most hurting ordeal was when his memory also began to fail him due to Alzheimer’s disease. It got so chronic to the point where he couldn’t even recognize his own children anymore. The unsavory impression that left on me was that any man who loses his mind regardless of the cause is already dead. Without the mind, the body can’t be responsive to life and its offerings. It was torturous. As weeks became months and months morphed into a couple more years, his health waned even further. It eventually got to the point where we began to pray for his peaceful demise so he could be emancipated from the distress that currently blighted him. Our prayers were finally answered and he passed on. My mother received the news from one of her siblings who was stationed with him and her mournful demeanor was all I needed to see to realize “it had finally happened”. Remarkably, even though my mother had been anticipating this news for several months, it still couldn’t stop the floodgates of tears she shed. It just goes to show how strong the chord of love is for someone who passes on. Till this very day the fact that he is dead continues to evade me sporadically. It’s not possible to forget a prodigious man like that – the quintessential mentor. If the popular adage “how many people you bless is how you measure success” is anything to go by, then I can say my grandfather is a living legend. I consciously model my life after him and I’m glad for the opportunity placed in front of me to emulate. I assiduously shoot for the stars now, the invaluable words of wisdom he implanted in my subconscious serving as guideposts. My rationale convinces me that it is the most prodigious manner to honour him. At every turn, I always hear him speak to me like the guardian angel he now is. Indeed I am blessed to be part of his progeny. His essence courses through me and inspires me inordinately. Missing him forlornly is a fact I have to continually deal with in the physical sense but in my quiet and ethereal moments, I perceive his presence. I euphemistically prefer to use the term “transition” to describe the discontinuation of his mortal self in place of death. He is where he is now and I am where I am now. My grandfather J.G.O. Amadasun’s legacy continues to chart new paths that we his progeny must toe. Korede Williams