REMEMBERING THE LEGACY OF LATE PA THAIM-KURUGBA KAMARA (MHSIPP), KAMBIA, KAMBIA DISTRICT.
(1903-1978)
By Essa Thaim-Kurugba, Maryland, USA.
If I were asked to describe my late father - Pa Thaim-Kurugba Kamara - of Kambia in two words, I would like to say "complex" and "impenetrable."
I lost my father in 1978 due to a long term illness when I was twenty three years old, but I had no trouble recalling vivid images of him. He was such a perplexing individual. He was very caring, and as warm and comforting as a cozy fire on a cold winter evening but also as hard as a concrete sidewalk. He was the No Nonsense Pa Kurugba. This loving father was called to rest thirty years ago by the Almighty God on the fourth day of March, nineteen hundred and seventy-eight(May his soul rest in perfect peace).
My father loved his family and all his children. He might not say it but he showed it. His eyes conveyed it to me with a peculiar smile, big and brown eyes like the skies on September evening when the sun sets on the horizon. I can still remember the feel of his arms around me. I would crawl into his lap, his arms enveloped me in warmth and I would feel as safe and content as a newborn held in his mother’s arms.
I love my father, yes; I still do for that matter. Seeing him come home at Bayande when I was a teenager from his trading trips (Kambia or Kawulla) was very exciting to me. It’s like a child waking up on Christmas morning walking straight into a pile of gifts under a Christmas tree full of all types of gifts.
My father - Pa Thaim-Kurugba was the kind of a man who let nothing worry him. He is a disciplined father, dedicated, adoring, loving, quick tempered and committed to help. My father never got to enjoy life much like a teenager on a Saturday night - who does not have many worries in the world except to enjoy life to the fullest. On many occasions, his behavioral attitude will lead the entire family to dire straits. If my father did not like the way his fellow merchants or customers talk to him, he would just ignore the individual and walk away. He was a carefree, true, but very meticulous father.
My father was a merchant (trader) who was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth. As a young man, he hustled in his trading area along the Great Scarcies River. He traveled to places like Ro-Sharkah, Ro-Yaylie-Boyah, Ro-Point and Ro-Korthima, respectively to meet with his trading partners to exchange salt, tobacco and spices.
The first time I saw how angry my father could become was a very frightening experience. I did not remember why he was mad or at whom, but the vision of my father’s rage is still with me. With a medium height in stature, he was built more like a bantam rooster, and, on that day, he looked exactly like one. I ran for cover and hid from this terrible person who was no longer my father, but when he came to find me later, he had miraculously changed back to the loving man I knew. I was really perplexed: how could he be so gentle and loving in one minute, then so terrifying the next? Being young, I did not realize that is how many people are.
On the penultimate night in the month of March, 1978 before he expired, as I sat closely to my dying father, a cool nippiness, impartiality and aloofness ran down my spine. The wind had curled up to sleep in the distant mountains. Leaves hung loose and motionless from the silent trees, while birds perched on the branches like little statues. As I sat on the edge of the clearing and held my breath, I could hear a squirrel scampering through the underbrush. Somewhere far away a dog barked twice, and then the woods were hushed once more.
On a mild early hour of the morning of March 4th, thirty (30) years ago, my father peacefully passed away. Fortunately, my late brother (Uniss Nabieu) and I were the ones who were around him when he took his last breath. My life took a different course from that moment on. The pain I felt on that day, along with the shock of seeing him dead, can only be compared to the pain you must feel when a hot red knife is plunged into your stomach. Sorrow was all I knew for a long, long time. Losing our loved ones is devastating at my age, but, at twenty-three, it was as if my whole world had suddenly shattered, like an icicle striking the ground. The details of my sorrows and pain have dulled over the years but the memory of my father’s love is still very much alive.
Losing my father (THAIM-KURUGBA KAMARA) has taught me a lot about life and love. My father was married to three women. They were separately and individually nestled in different towns.
Conclusively, let me again remind you all my brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, nieces, nephews, uncles, aunties, grand sons, grand daughters and great, great grand kids and etc, that, Late Pa Thaim Kurugba Kamara, the man with the militant attitude and masculine character in his administration, is No More! I mean, No More! He was laid to rest thirty years ago. On this day today, July 6th 2008, this generation has to accept to unify this family and establish it on firmer ground. Let’s adore this family as the Kurugba Royal Family of Kambia.
I have to appreciate the relentless, inexorable, unalterable and unstoppable efforts of my wife Mrs. Omolade Kamara, my children (Fatmata, Ola, Modupeola, Opeyemi and MaMusu), Mrs. Memuna Turayson, my brother Alfred M. Kamara and his lovely wife Mrs. N’yama Kamara who came from Atlanta, Georgia to observe to help make this memorial service a success. Thanks and God bless you all.
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