“When I think of death, and of late the idea comes with alarming frequency, I seem at peace with the idea that a day will dawn when I will no longer be among those living in this valley of strange humours.
“I can accept the idea of my own demise, but I am unable to accept the death of anyone else. I find it impossible to let a friend or relative go into the country of no return.
“Disbelief becomes my close companion, and anger follows in its wake. I answer the heroic question: “Death where is thy sting?” with “It is here in my heart and mind and memories.”
The thought by the American poet and writer, Maya Angelou, aptly captures my state of mind since learning of the sudden departure of my dear friend, sister and associate, Barrister Esther Uzoma.
You were ‘The Law’ like I called you, ‘Auntie Baristo’ to the boys- Alexis and Angelo, and ‘My own Attorney General (AG)’ like your guy, Emma, called you.
A huge gap was created in our lives and that of many others on January 6 with your passing to eternal glory. Death brought to an end, unceremoniously, nearly two decades of friendship that had blossomed into family ties.
I can’t forget my surprise the day you casually mentioned, after more than three years of our friendship, that you had children. I was even more surprised when I got to meet Stephen and Stephanie. You were doing such a great job of raising a fine gentleman and a lady.
You effectively managed and balanced the home and work. There was no overlap. I admired you so much for that and many other qualities.
I can’t really remember how we became friends but I know we met at the NUJ Press Centre in Wuse, Zone 5, early 2003. You were fresh out of Law School and full of zeal and expectations.
I am thankful to God that you made the impact you always craved for, though there is still a lot of work to be done.
Yes, the time was short but you made much more impact than you were aware of. Indeed, you did good to the greater number of people without counting the cost.
For one who knew how and when to drive hard bargain, you took up several cases, especially when it bothered on the protection of human rights, without charging your clients a dime.
You were there for us as individuals and as a family. I can’t count the times you stepped up as a friend, family member, as well as our lawyer and advocate.
I am eternally grateful for the role you played in my life when I was at a crossroads. I am not sure I ever thanked you for encouraging Emma and I to start our family.
I remember that you anchored the wedding reception and taunted me over my ‘big belle’ and 13 years after, we are still standing strong. You were our cheerleader and always believed that we would make it.
We had a lot of discussions and conversations but hardly did we ever talk about death or anticipate that it was lurking in the corner. You were always optimistic and open minded, I was the cynical and skeptical one, like you would often say.
Part of our last conversation was about our meeting to appraise activities of the Proactive Gender Initiatives (PGI) and plan for the next year.
You had even teased me that you would ‘blast me’ for not being available as a director compared to Emma, who is not part of PGI. I was looking forward to the meeting.
On January 5, you were missing at the NUJ Press Centre, where we often met for business and leisure. It was Emma’s birthday, though there were no plans for celebration but friends and colleagues had gathered to felicitate with him but you were conspicuously absent and everyone noticed because you were the life of every gathering, whether intellectual or social.
After several failed attempts to reach you, having tried earlier during the festive period to bring the kids to the house as we had earlier agreed but was unable to reach you as well, I concluded that you may have travelled home after all and network was difficult in most communities in the South-east.
I had actually told Emma that I would stop at you chamber the following day and even if you weren’t around, Chidinma, your administrative assistant, would be able to give me the information I needed. Alas, it was not to be!
How can we celebrate your guy’s birthday, going forward, knowing that 24 hours after it would be memorial of your departure?
Life cannot be the same! We have cried. If tears could bring you back I am sure you would be here with us. We have searched ourselves and asked what we could have done differently.
I am consoled that we shared tons and tons of fun times and the memory will last forever. So, nobody will call and ask me: “Nne idi kwa nma?”
Who will I share our common phrases like: “judge’s entrance only; our boyfriend is back; I don’t like ice fish; Ngozi na di ya na eje uka;” and laugh hilariously even before I am done saying them? Indeed, the sting of your death is here in my heart and mind and memory.
You fought a good fight and you completed your earthly race on January 6, 2020. I pray God in his infinite goodness to be merciful unto you and grant you the crown of eternal life.
Farewell dear friend, sister, ally, and comrade, till we meet at Jesus’ feet on resurrection morning. Adieu The Law!
