“He is still with us, and he is comfortable, Gboyega. I spent time with him this afternoon, telling him how much we all love him. You can do the same tomorrow.” This was the text I received from my wife Emma upon landing in Doha after an excruciating seven-hour Hight from Lusaka with no Wi-Fi. Before leaving Lusaka, all I knew was that Daddy had lost consciousness and was en route to the hospital. Daddy was a fighter, my hero, and effectively immortal in my eyes. He had promised me he would live until at least a hundred, so whilst I knew it was serious, I believed he would pull through, just like he always did. Those words from Emma will forever be etched in my mind, especially as the specifics of the business trip were the last discussion I had with Daddy before I travelled, and he was so proud of what we were about to do! What followed were the hardest and most emotionally draining five days of my life, which culminated, by God’s Grace, in the most beautiful and peaceful end to a truly blessed life; my brothers and I holding daddy’s arms and legs and singing his favourite hymn ‘Through the love of God our saviour all will be well’ as he drew his last breath.
The calls and messages I have received from every sphere of society have been a humbling experience. It has been a demonstration of the love and respect everyone has for my Dad, as well as the profound and positive impact he had on so many lives. I believe every individual has a unique calling. And with that calling, talent, and blessing, he, or she must bless and positively impact as many lives as possible. I can proudly say that Daddy fulfilled his mission on earth. He came, he saw, he conquered, and he did it uncompromisingly and unapologetically his way! He was proud, unique, and in your face, but only because he was confident of God’s presence in his life and wanted everyone to know what God had done for him and what he had used those blessings to do for humanity. He made the most of his blessings and impacted thousands, if not millions, within and outside of Nigeria.
I began dreaming of your death a month before you passed. I woke up in floods of tears, and Emma had to comfort me. It was so real. Almost every night thereafter, I dreamt about your passing, right until the night before you had that ‘catastrophic’ stroke. I believe God was preparing me, as you had no pre-existing condition that would make me think your death was imminent, quite the contrary! These premonitions have truly strengthened my faith in the Almighty during this challenging period. It has all been quite surreal, but I am starting to find my feet again. Work does not mourn, especially when my work is one of your legacies, one that I intend to uphold.
I will miss your calls, asking me to calculate the number of shares you held, the value in naira, and the value in dollars, right up to a few days before your stroke. To say you were a diligent man is an understatement. Out of frustration, I would at times say some random figure, but on each occasion, they were followed by those hallowed words that always put a smile on my face – “No, dear boy, calculate it again” – you knew the answer even before asking the question. So why ask it? It is only now I know that it was simply your way of ensuring I was fully on top of things. Or your calls asking me, “How is the rnorke+?” which actually meant, ‘How are FCMB shares trading? Why are FCMB shares trading below XVZ bank?’ When I would say, “Daddy, it is not the share price that you should be obsessing about, but the market capitalisation or the return on equity” -you would look at me with a wry smile (and I know that smile also meant “no, dear boy”) and repeat the same question about the share price, totally ignoring my advice. Only now do I see the wisdom in those very deliberate questions.
Everything you did was deliberate, but to those who did not understand you, which included me in my younger days, we could not help but wonder why! Those who understood your focus, tenacity, and God-given mission, something I began to comprehend in my latter years, recognise the genius of your questions.
I cannot write a testimony about you without mentioning your love for your daughters-in-law and your grandchildren. You practised tough love on your four boys, which I think all of us now appreciate, but with your daughters-in-law and your grandchildren, you were utterly disarmed. Seeing your interaction with them always put a smile on my face. With Emma in particular, despite your initial reservations about her not being Nigerian and potentially taking your son away, you not only fell in love with her but drew her close. Your love for her can only be described as ironic, given how it all began. But in your typical way, there was reason for your initial reservations.
When all is said and done, I now see the pride you had in me. I think you saw a lot of yourself in me – single-mindedness bordering on stubbornness, pinstripe suits, flamboyance, fear of God, not taking ‘no’ for an answer, and focusing on a business that God gave during a period of adversity. I often recall the pride beaming on your face when you came to my office in London. So proud that you either did not see or chose to ignore the fact that our logo was totally different from that of the FeMB Group. I was so worried about your reaction to it that day, but you did not say a word. Instead, after saying hello to my staff, you proceeded downstairs to the jewellers, a co-tenant in the building, bought yourself a Rolex watch, and proudly told them, “You know my son’s office is above you, and he’s doing Daddy, you ran a good race, completing it in your unique style by catching us all by surprise. But more importantly, you bowed out at the very top of your game. Although I miss you deeply, I would not have enjoyed seeing my hero and my colossus adversely affected by the pitfalls of old age; and I believe you would not have relished such a prospect either. Despite your constant assurances that you would reach the age of one hundred, I could see you were fighting old age. I would regularly ask you how you were doing, and you would reply, “I am fine but for the vestiges of old age.” I love you, Daddy, and I am missing you so much already. But I will honour your memory by staying strong and relentless, despite adversity, to achieve my unique calling. I will be following the example you set for me and so many across the globe.
Rest well, Daddy. We will take care of your first love, Mummy, until we inevitably meet again on resurrection day, when I will hear you say in that booming voice and slight American accent that only you, and Cameron mimics, can do…” How are you?
Gboyega Balogun
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