19.04.2016
Indeed, life is like a biscuit, it breaks where no one expects it. That is why when an ordinary thing happens to the extraordinarily, extraordinary explanations are sought from extraordinary sources to give extraordinary consolation. Nothing could have forced me to change what would have been the topic of this column this week. My thought was already refined and my hands well composed to hitting my keyboard before a call that broke the infamous news that changed everything.
As it is, I have abandoned politics, love and valentine to deal with the greatest of all mysteries- the mystery of God and how he relates to individual human experience. It is a mystery I cannot solve and I have come to the conclusion that there is not a one-and-only final answer to it. I may have something to tell you about death but I am more interested in what you tell yourself as you read my words on the life and time of once an active fan of this column who has suddenly fallen asleep in the Lord. I pray that we discover something new reading his life and understand that our cravings make no sense at all. What matters at the end is our journey to the great beyond.
If you ever expect to find answer to the question of good and evil, you will be disappointed. But if you dare to consider different point of view in your approach to life, to faith, to God, you may find. Sometimes, things too tragic, sorrow too thick, agonies too heavy, pull their fast on us and descend in a succession that tends to pull us away from faith and force us to think that hedonists have better understanding of the world. They erode our traditional belief and split us between half faith and half doubt. That is the moment when one like Martin Heidegger can say: ‘I do not doubt the existence of God but I can call attention to his absence.’
This piece is an inspirational theology based on the life of a person whose name is not Moses, Isaiah, or St. Paul. He is not Job, Jabez, nor Jeremiah, nor Abel, nor Jesus who was murdered by political conspiracy. He is an ordinary person, the kind you rarely notice as you pass them on the street. The type we stand next to in the fuel queue. The type we sit next to on church pews. He is one who perhaps like you has suffered grievously; he has been hurt in life by misfortunes too close not to suspect his enemies and he wondered why. Unfortunately, he is no more; they got him this time around.
The devastating news of the death of Fabian Chidi Ngele is one that can send one battling with the meaning of existence. Agbarua as he was popularly known was more than a fan of this column and that is why I have decided to pay him last respect hoping that the cold hand of infamous death cannot grip Agbarua’s hand not to read this wherever he is.
Agbarua became famous not by royal descent but by bringing uniqueness in every person he met, in events he attended, and every duty he performed. He was a character one cannot encounter and forget in a hurry. Easy going, he was wonderfully made. He was a man of brain and brawn. He had fine imaginative wits that could get one wondering how he would arrive at them. He had the name. He had the handsome. He had the beauty of the heart and finesse of the body. His heart was too large to accommodate any person he would come in contact with. He could infect any person he met with his characteristic smiles, humour, and humility. Yes, Chidi was humorously infectious; Agbarua was in every humour and every humour was in Agabrua.
Agbarua was life; yeah, he was lively. He was a livewire of any group he associated with. His jokes, comedies would leave one perpetually uncertain, confused whether to laugh, cry or do both at the same times. Agbarua was a man of the people, an Iroko with magical braches.
Everybody likes gold. The thought of gold delights the heart. Golden key. Golden watch. Golden jubilee. Golden mansion. Agbarua was a gold. The death of Agbarua has sent the world shivering. The rumour that he was poisoned has sent fears to my spines that if gold can be so hated what is iron waiting for? If it is true that he was poisoned to death, it is quite unfortunate for the devil that engineered it. If it is manipulated, I wondered why could have prompted it. Though Mark Anthony calmly addressed Brutus as noble after the death of Caesar, he reminded him that Caesar was not ambitious as he had alleged because three times he was offered crowns and three times rejected. The death is often interred with his good. The evil that people do live with them and after them.
Ordinarily, people will question God’s will but that is uncalled for. God was exactly where he was when His Son Jesus cried for help on the cross and He kept quiet. Yes, Agbarua knew misfortunes before he died. He earlier lost his first wife to labour. He patiently mourned her with love so passionate that it was like life had ended. He finally contracted another marriage but not without challenges before wedding. As that marriage is stretching to age two, and he is beginning to settle for the future, the tragedies began pouring.
“Fr. Keep me in your prayers, I am having challenges at the moment”, was the first line he dropped in my ears when he called me last. As we discussed, he spoke of his father involvement in an accident which got his leg fractured. He told a harrowing tale of his darling mother being brought to the hospital and how they were concealing that from the father. He talked of his political aspiration which has received wide acceptance and revealed that those challenges are there to frustrate it. And typical of him, what was building up like a litany to Our Lady of Sorrows ended up in light mood. He would not end without giving the phone to little Mama Assumpta, his amiable daughter who murmured to my ear what only God could understand. And in Abankaleke dialect he said, “Mama Assumpta will be a reverend sister oo.”And so we laughed our last. And he will never comment on my Dragnet article again.
On Wednesday January 27, 2016, at 09.20pm, he sent me an sms: “I lost my darling mom on Saturday night.” Then on January 28, 2016 at 4.48pm, he tagged me on a facebook post, which turned to be his last post. “My darling mother died last Saturday after a brief illness. May she find peace with the Lord. Eternal life grant unto her oh Lord, let your perpetual light shine upon her. Adieu mama Chidi. It is quite a hard luck but we shall continue to live for you. Be assured of our ceaseless prayers.” That post as at the time of writing this piece had 442 comments, 60 likes and 5 shares.
The exit of Agabrua, the firstborn of a family at the time his mother lies on the morgue and the father unable to walk because of fracture brings up again two simple questions: Where is God when bad things happen? And how can understanding of where God is make any difference in our lives? The answers are blowing in the wind.
For the enemy death, it appears it has triumphed but God knew it would be so. St. Augustine said his knowledge of the end is not the cause of the end. Just as Jesus knew he would be betrayed but His knowledge of the betrayal was not the cause of Judas executing it. Like Jesus would say, woe to the person through whom the plan will be fulfilled. God is in control. There is your wife and there is your daughter; the dream lives on. Agbarua, you might have lost your goals for your family but God can raise someone from the family to exceed all you had planned for them.
The death of any one of us diminishes a part of us. Your exit has done just that. Dragnet will miss your comic mimicking of its titles. SASCO Alumni family will miss your enthusiastic commitment. You were a hero, a leader. You were lovable and loving. Adieu worthy comrade! You have found rest in God. Our regards to St. Peter!
