Fare thee well, Komla Dumor
It was in August 1997 that I got to know Komla through his Super Morning Show programme. The story of that day was that a young talented Ghanaian footballer, Shamo Quaye, who plied his trade in Europe, had come home on holidays with his wife and two kids.
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Days after arrival, Shamo suddenly died. It was alleged that Shamo’s family had planned to evict the widow from the couple’s home. What did listeners think about it? Komla invited his listeners to express their views. That was when I called in. I happened to have been the first caller.
My views were that women around the widow’s house and those women who could afford it should go and help the widow to resist being evicted.
Caller upon caller supported what I said. I also felt it was time some firm orders were put in place to prevent the families of deceased husbands from humiliating widows across the country.
I added that I could not help the widow because I had just been discharged from Korle Bu Hospital, where I had been after a bad motor accident in which I sustained some serious injuries, and could not walk then.
Soon, Shamo Quaye’s family issued a statement that they had no intention of evicting the widow. Sometime later, Komla called to thank me for my contribution to that programme. I was touched. He enquired about my accident and wished me speedy recovery.
Once in a while from then, Komla called to check on how I felt. I told Komla at one time that I was to undergo surgery. He asked some questions and I answered him. At the appointed time for the surgery I went to the Korle Bu hospital and to my ward.
The nurses, who were expecting me, met me with smiles. I saw a vase of very beautifully arranged fresh flowers on the table of the nurses. One nurse told me the flowers were for me. A joke, I thought. I hobbled to my bed and settled in.
Minutes later, a nurse brought the flowers and a card plus a call card, and told me they were delivered by Komla Dumor of Joy FM just before I checked in. One nurse wondered how I did not meet Komla on my way into the ward, since he had just left the place. How could I explain to the nurse that Komla and I did not know each other. We knew each other only on the airwaves.
I was dumbfounded that Komla took time to accord me that gesture. Now, I felt proud to have had such a friend. I put the flowers on my bedside cabinet and for a long time, my visitors commented on how beautiful my flowers were. Komla, where are you, once again, thank you.
I got the opportunity to meet Komla in person at the American Embassy while with his mother, where we shared our memories. It is an understatement to say here that I followed Komla’s progression in his field of work with pride.
He got to the heights because he was a good journalist and broadcaster. Komla was not the first Ghanaian to work at the BBC, even now there are many other Ghanaians in high offices at the BBC.
However, Komla stood out in his section, and there was no doubt about that. Komla, with all respect, I reproduce what you wrote on that call card you left me at Korle Bu Hospital all those years ago ……. 1998. “Dear Nana, I came to visit you but unfortunately you were not in. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the card and flowers, and everything turns out fine. I am praying for you. Love, Komla.”
Komla, my friend, when the news of your death broke out, I got angry, I got confused as to what that meant, and then I got sad. I asked myself what I could do to express my sorrow, then a voice told me to look for your call card.
But after 17 years, where could that card be? Still feeling numbed, I pulled out some documents and went through them patiently, and then, I found myself holding the card.
Tears, uncontrolled tears, streamed down my face, the card transported me to Korle Bu hospital, Ward C, the nurses, the beautiful flowers, and the image of my friend from the airwaves…… Komla, those of us who loved and admired your work will continue to do so. You were exceptional in your chosen profession.
The airwaves, from where you transported your listeners, are deeply mourning you. That mourning is everywhere that your flagship programme, Focus on Africa, reached.
Both the young and old are mourning you. I am 66 years old and I am one of your admirers. Thank you. Komla, ….. in the midst of life is death, so sleep, sleep, sleep.
naframa@gmail.com