By Sullay Adekullay, London, UK.
Mohamed ‘Champion’ is the name commonly associated with the now deceased Mohamed Daudis Koroma (top photo, with tie), former Minister of State in the Ministry of Health, Freetown, Sierra Leone.
But I deliberately re-christened the late Minister with the nickname ‘Gbirigbara’, which is a Themne word that basically typifies the late Minister’s vigour and his noticeable voice even when engaged in friendly conversations. I had made several futile attempts to calm his high tempo, but after a careful observation of him, I came to realise that it was his natural disposition. The Themne word Gbirigbara connotes, assertiveness, dynamism, power, vigour and high energy. Themne is one of the languages of Sierra Leone, mainly spoken in the north and west of the country.
I was therefore little surprised when I started reading positive newspaper reports about Gbrigbara’s leading role in implementing Ernest Bai Koroma’s ‘Agenda for Change’. Like Mohamed Sankoh’s tribute about the late man’s insatiable desire to keep in touch with mates that he had been rubbing shoulders with prior to becoming a Minister, I had a similar experience about him. I can recall the late Minister making telephone calls to colleague journalists like Mohamed Taimeh, Max Jimmy and I in London and leaving this message: “Adekulay I just call oh for check how you dae do, I don call Taimeh and Max Jimmy, but una nor dae take African calls."
I felt elated when I listened to his voice message. It actually debunked the usual excuses of other old friends, who the trappings of power rather than the purported busy schedules that they often claimed are inhibiting them from staying in touch with their intimate pals during their bread and butter days.
However things took a dramatic turn in Mohamed ‘Gbrigbara’s’ life in February this year when I learnt news of his ill health. I made frantic efforts to secure his telephone contact in London, so as to make a first hand assessment of his health. As I called to inform him that I was on my way to his brother’s residence, (this is in close proximity to mine) and as I got closer to his residence, I called to ask for a description of the block he was living. Even though ‘Gbirgbara’ was unwell, he came down the long stairwell with the usual zest he normally demonstrated, when he met friends. But what beats my imagination was, I walked past him without recognising him; this was basically due to his drastic loss of weight. With so much impatience and concern for the wellbeing of a friend, I asked him: “watin dae happen, dis norto di Mohamed wey ar know. He responded by saying: “Ar no well, Orman”.
That evening we reminisced about his student days in London, whilst reading for his postgraduate diploma in journalism. I specifically reminded him about his rapid movement on the social mobility ladder, from a night cleaner (in London) to a Minister of State or Deputy Minster of Health. I also reminded him about the banter we used to make, when I normally called him in the middle of the night and will often ask him this question: Or-Editor, how u dae cope for empty den plenty bin dem”? He usually responded by saying: I get for do am for pay me university fees, but as I dae don, I dae lef wuna pan den bin ya”.
True to Mohamed ‘Gbiribgara’s words, he hurriedly left for Freetown without even telling me about his planned return, simply because I had relentlessly tried convincing him to stay in London, as I pointed out to him that life is far better here in London. His response was: “You mean I will stay after bagging this prestigious diploma in journalism, you know my colleagues had been insulting me about lacking educational credentials as an editor."
He further stated to me that, he was going tell his colleagues in Freetown that he was one of the few with a diploma in journalism from London School of Journalism. Such was Gbirigbara’s pride upon bagging that academic award.
Anyway, let me don’t stray too far away from my first hand observation of Gbirigbara’s illness unto his death on the 29th April 2011. On a second visit to Mohamed, I noticed serious deterioration on his health to the point that he suffered a stroke that resulted to a deformity of his mouth. As I entered the flat, I screamed with this emotional question that forced my tears out: “Wetin dae happen? But Mohamed continued to live up to his ‘Gbrigbara’ reputation by refusing to feel sorry for himself. He calmly said to me in slurred speech: “Orman, I just experience a stroke yesterday but ar go be okay”. Such is the courageous nature of Gbirigbara.
Mohamed returned to Freetown a week later after some improvement in his health, again he refused to say good bye to me, being fully aware of the fact that I will stop him from returning, on this basis that I was not pleased with the status of his health. One thing that I also admired about ‘Gbirigbara’ during his illness, was the fact that he continuously looked forward to starting work again, I noticed that he was bored in London, as he was desperately longing to get back to work.
In March this year for the second time , I learnt news of his arrival in London for further medical treatment from Puawi’s column in ‘Global times’ online news outlet, but by the time I learnt news of his arrival in London, I also got news of his departure to India to seek further medical treatment. Impeccable sources informed me that the medics at King’s College Hospital in London, informed him that he had cancer on the liver and it was only a matter of time for him to pass away. ‘Gbirigbara’ reacted angrily to this verdict from the medics; he vowed not to sleep at King’s College Hospital that night and indeed, he discharged himself and went to India.
On Friday 29th April 2011, after finishing my Friday prayers, I received news outside the mosque that Mohamed is back from India and his condition had deteriorated very badly. Within the same minute, a call came through that informed me about his death. I started screaming with denial saying that: “It cannot be true”. I rushed into my car and dashed for his brother’s residence.
On arrival, his brother started screaming at me: “Mohamed is dead”, but I still remained defiant about news of his death, until I entered the room where I saw ‘Gbrigbara’ lying so low on the bed that he peacefully passed away. His other brother removed the white cloth that covered his body; I started reciting the words ‘Lailalah Mohamadu rasurilah, a Muslim recitation for the dead. My hopes of Mohamed overcoming the pangs of death were eventually dashed, when a female medic carried out a death certifying test on him and declared him dead. Gazing emotionally on the remains, I asked the question: Is this the ‘Gbirigbara’ I know that is lying so low?
The frightening moment came when officers from the National Health Service (NHS) put his body on a stretcher and whisked his remains to a Funeral Home, whilst I was driving behind the ambulance with his brothers in my car, until we got to the funeral home and his body was taken in for preservation.
On Saturday 7th May 2011, his brother rang to update me about funeral arrangements so far. He stated that the body had been handed over to the family and it is now in a Funeral Home in Whitechapel Street. He further stated that prayers will be held for the late Minister this Friday 13th May and the body would be flown to Freetown for burial on Sunday 15th February.
Sullay Adekullay
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