Many times, we said our “good-byes” to one another, knowing the goodness in it was that we shall meet again, to catch up on events, crack our jokes and tease each other.
But, Eugene, this final goodbye has no good in it. A good-bye which we could not say to one another, but fate made it destined to be, has certainly no good in it.
I woke up from bed, Wednesday morning of November 29, 2023, and resolved to write an opinion and send it to you and Chronicle before noon. After a short prayer, thanking God for taking care of me and my loved ones throughout the night, I decided to go through my mails on Whatsapp and e-box.
I saw this message sent to me by my nephew, Philip, in the UK. It read, “Good morning Uncle! What is this I am hearing about Eugene? Please tell me it is not true!” Fear and panic set in and I told myself, Philip should not be talking about you. So, I first went to the family page hoping to see news about a Eugene, I do not know. The page drew blanks.
Eugene, I went through the WhatsApp chat column, hoping to see the day’s Chronicle frontpage pdf who always sent to me before six a.m. every working day. There was nothing for today and the time was past seven. The last of such posting was Tuesday at 5:21 a.m.
Eugene, I called your line thrice but the call was not picked. In panic and anxiety, I called Ato Williams, he did not pick. I called Akli, but his line was off. Then I called Ebo Quansah, who confirmed my fears.
Eugene, I became deflated and laid in bed for almost three hours, calling and chatting with Philip and a few others on the matter fate has brought upon us.
Then, I continued to lay there, in bed, reflecting on the times we had together.
We got to know each other in our teens and enjoyed life together, watching cartoons and classical movies on video. You and my brother, Kofi, were both in Mfantsipem, then. And of course, there were Ato Williams, Emmanuel and Eddie Sampson and other Kwabotwe guys, who together with the rest of the gang, formed the Stubborn Academy of Airport Residential Area, Roman Ridge and Dzowulu.
After some years later, we met again in the Ghanaian Chronicle office in New-Town and we struck off, as if years had not separated us. And we have been strong pals ever since.
Like brothers, we sometimes disagreed on issues but that never separated us. You were always there to give me good advice and also to discuss my articles. You shared my pain and loss when my beloved wife passed, almost three years ago. You stood there beside me, as a good brother should.
We discussed our personal issues including family and only last Friday when we spoke, I said I was going to ask for your daughter, Edith’s MoMo number so that I will be sending money to you, through her. How we laughed when you screamed, “No!!!” Edith, you said, wants to be a lawyer and she has already been acting like one. So, you said you will not take such chances.
You were planning to compile all my satire stories in Letter to Senior Opupulepu, into a book. We did not begin that project and you left us. New-Gin, as I called you in the satire, you have left me.
No more jokes on Captain Haddock, no more jokes again. No more comments on my articles, from you again, as you would say, “As for me, I no want go collect slaps!” No more late evening and morning chats on the phone that can go on for hours.
And now, who is going to take me to that eatery in Dzorwulu or some place, to talk about where you said they prepare the best traditional local cuisine. I do not even remember the name, to start asking around.
Your sudden departure has introduced a silent moment in my life. Everything is quite now and I am so deflated wondering how things are going to turn up, with you, gone.
We never had the chance to say good-bye, this time, because there is no good in this good-bye.
Rest in the Bosom of the Lord God your Maker and may you be elevated among the Elect in Heaven.
God’s peace, consolation and joy be upon your wife, children, mother and siblings.
And same to Kofi Coomson and the Chronicle staff.
Hon. Daniel Dugan
