Am sorry for the late entry. I had to come to Bamenda to do this
It was 1996, and the year was drawing to its end. Many months had gone by since one of our very good friends had gone to be with the Lord. On this particular Sunday, many of the youths were gathered in Etoug-Ebe and were headed to the Atoghos for lunch. Mami Ata’s legendary jollof rice was on the menu.
There was a lot of laughter and carrying on as we got into different cars. Then we drove past the home of our departed friend, and I started weeping and could not stop. We got to the Atoghos, and it was time to eat. I got my food and I sat down in a corner all by myself. I could not eat, and I could not stop weeping.
I did not see him coming, but I sensed someone sit next to me. When I looked up, it was Daddy Atogho. He asked, “Why are you crying?” And I told him why. He sat with me for a while and then said, “I understand your grief and your pain, but I want you to be around for a long time.” We talked for a while and went on to talk about other things.
The remarkable thing about it all was that … no one noticed that I was weeping in the car, no one noticed that I was weeping in the house, and no one noticed that I was not eating my food … but Daddy Atogho did. Amidst all the laughter and the food, the conversation and the noise, Daddy Atogho reminded me of the shepherd who left the ninety-nine and went out to find the one lost sheep.
In December 2011, my father passed away after a brief illness. I was not there but my brother told me that Pa and Ma Atogho were in the hospital beside him every day. Not only were they there every day, but he said there was no day when he got to the hospital before them. They were faithful. My brother always talks about it, and I know it left an impression that will last a lifetime.
HE’S BETTER NOW
Adapted from song by Joel Lindsey and Allison Speer
I met an old family friend,
We talked of years gone by;
Then he asked about my Daddy,
Said he hoped he’s doing fine;
I just smiled and said,
“He’s better now.”
CHORUS: He’s riding on angels’ wings,
And laughing at the smallest things,
He’s learning how to wear a crown
He’s better now.
I saw an old photograph
Long before his last sick days
Where he’s strong and he’s laughing.
I’ll remember him that way.
I miss him but I know
He’s better now.
CHORUS
BRIDGE: He’s at home and settled in
Where tears can never go;
It’s such a comfort to know.
CHORUS
He’s learning how to wear a crown
He’s better now
Daddy,
You called me son and treated me as one of yours.
In 1985, as a high school graduate ready to travel abroad for further education, you challenged me to put God above everything.
In 1988, during my final year at the university, you took time to visit with Awuro and l. As we discussed excitedly our respective career plans after graduation, you listened carefully, providing parental guidance; and gently reminded us that God must be at the center of everything we do in life.
When I got married in 1998, you advised me to let my wife see Jesus in me in all I do.
In March 2015, when my dad, Late Pa S.A. Abam went to be with the Lord our Creator, you comforted me and told me you will be there for any guidance I need in my life journey. Now you are gone; or better still, you have gained; but your advice lives on; for which l am forever grateful.
Rest in Peace with the Lord, and save some grace for me till we meet again.
Dan Abam
Daddy,
I write this eulogy because it is an obligation, for deep in my heart it is very hard to believe you are no more. Daddy, you have a lot of unfinished business with us, the most recent being your promise, when I visited you by your sick bed in Miami. The plan was that when you recover, your first outing will be to go over to Dallas to spend some time with Marie-Noel, the children and the rest of the family members. You did not get well. We all thought death would wait, thereby granting you a few more years because of your faithfulness before the Lord.
I know it was your sincere wish but God had a contrary position. By your death, I am once more reminded of the fragility of human existence and the vanity of life in this world. I thank God I spent those five days with you in Miami before you left. The daily walks in the quiet neighborhood were refreshing and will remain fond memories. The night you made me read 15 chapters of the Holy Bible and corresponding commentaries, prompted me back into my Christian life.
Daddy, you were the greatest and most perfect person I got to know. You were guarding angel not only to your family but to all who came across your path. You always showed great concern towards my family and I. On the day of my oath taking, you arrived at the Supreme Court in Yaounde before everybody, including myself. You always found time to reach out to my family in the US, and you fasted and prayed for us regularly. You are gone and have no replacement, but we know the Almighty God will continue to protect and bless us as it was your wish.
Daddy, you will always be remembered by your lovely and great family, friends, communities and our beloved country Cameroon for who you were. You have left a void that will never be filled.
As we celebrate your life, we also take comfort in the fact that your mission in this world would have been fulfilled. We know and believe you are reclining in the arms of the Lord Almighty. We thank Him for your great life and bid you farewell until we meet again.
Peter TAFAH
