Adieu, Tunde, By Babafemi Ojudu

Today, I attended a deeply sombre ceremony—the Service of Songs for my dear friend and fellow journalist, Mr Tunde Akingbade.

Tunde passed away a couple of weeks ago after living for thirteen years with the consequences of a stroke. Before illness altered the course of his life, he had distinguished himself as a hardworking, courageous and diligent journalist. He was serious-minded and utterly devoted to his calling, never one to be distracted by the frivolities that some of us occasionally combined with the demands of the profession.

Tunde chose a field of journalism that offered little glamour or public applause. He was one of the pioneers of environmental reporting in Nigeria, long before the environment became a prominent subject of public conversation. His pioneering work earned him recognition from CNN. He researched, reported and wrote with uncommon dedication. He also published books and personally undertook the difficult task of promoting and marketing them.

The strain of his labour was sometimes visible on his face, but it never extinguished his smile. He was tall, handsome, good-natured, warm, friendly and widely travelled—a man whose quiet disposition concealed a remarkable depth of knowledge and experience.

Thirteen years is a long time to be away from the bustle of professional life. Prolonged illness has a cruel way of narrowing even the widest circle and carrying people beyond the reach of familiar friendships and routines. Time, distance and the different paths along which life takes us can create painful absences. Yet, throughout those difficult years, members of his extended family and a number of loyal friends stood in the gap, offering companionship, care and support. For their devotion, we owe them profound gratitude.

Richard Akinnola, Segun Ilori and I were Tunde’s bosom friends and professional colleagues. I would like to believe that he would have been pleased to know that we came to honour him and bid him farewell.

This is the second time within a year that I have attended the final rites of a friend under circumstances that have left me deeply troubled and reflective. It is disconcerting to witness how illness, age, distance and the pressures of modern life can gradually isolate people who once stood at the centre of vibrant family, professional and social communities.

As we commit Tunde to the earth tomorrow, his passing offers all of us a quiet but urgent reminder: we must prepare for old age, make provision for seasons of illness and accept that life can change without warning. We must nurture our relationships while we still can, remain present in the lives of those overtaken by adversity, and put our affairs in order for the day when the inevitable summons comes.

Above all, we must never surrender hope. We must continue to believe: Ki yio sí nǹkan—All shall be well.

That assurance was beautifully expressed in one of the hymns we sang in Tunde’s memory. Its words stayed with me, and I share them here as a prayer for him, for those who loved and cared for him, and for all of us who remain:

THROUGH THE LOVE OF GOD OUR SAVIOUR

Through the love of God our Saviour,
All will be well;
Free and changeless is His favour,
All, all is well.
Precious is the blood that healed us;
Perfect is the grace that sealed us;
Strong the hand stretched forth to shield us;
All must be well.

Though we pass through tribulation,
All will be well;
Ours is such a full salvation,
All, all is well.
Happy still in God confiding;
Fruitful, if in Christ abiding;
Holy, through the Spirit’s guiding;
All must be well.

We expect a bright tomorrow;
All will be well;
Faith can sing through days of sorrow,
All, all is well.
On our Father’s love relying,
Jesus every need supplying,
In our living, in our dying,
All must be well

—Mary Peters (1847)

Adieu, dear Tunde. You laboured faithfully, you made your contribution, and you have now laid down your pen.

May your gentle soul find eternal rest.
All shall be well- Ki yio si nkan