In my dictionary, the word “dependable” is accompanied by Barrister Chuks Okeke’s photograph. The other word is integrity garnished with a healthy dose of humor. He epitomized these virtues in his interactions with me – both personal and professional (in his capacity as a lawyer). There are many memorable moments but two capture the totality of what and who Chuks was to me: a brother.
Regardless of where my journey took me in Nigeria in recent years, I arrived and/or departed from the “Anthony House.” On one occasion, I arrived from Ota, Ogun State, to retrieve my passport from a bag that I had left in the house. I got to the airport barely 30 minutes before the end of check-in. Breathlessly, I presented my passport to the airline agent who opened the bio-data page, looked at me and said, “Madam, this is not your passport.” It turned out that I had mistakenly taken my son’s!. I called Ng-Chuks. She was stuck in traffic on her way home from work. She asked me to call her husband. I broke out in sweats wondering how to disturb a “big man” relaxing in his home at the end of the day. Finally, I called and braced for well-earned admonitions. None came. Instead, Chuks asked, “Where is the passport?” He brought it to the airport in time for me to make the flight.
On another visit to Nigeria, Chuks came to pick up my son and I at the airport. When he saw me sitting in a wheelchair, he asked with concern, “What’s with the wheelchair?” I had sprained my ankle at the Phoenix airport on the first leg of the journey. By the time we arrived in Lagos, my ankle had doubled in size. Chuks took us home and then went out to buy a walking cane for me. He arranged for Ekene to take me to the doctor the following day.
Chuks knew how to respond to difficult situations with urgency and without recriminations or condescension. He also knew how to make “mischief” out of them afterward! Three weeks after the wheelchair incident, I was returning to the US. As I entered the vehicle, Chuks said teasingly, “Madam P., you have forgotten your cane.” I told him it was my parting gift to him.
Similarly, the “passport affair” became a running joke. Each time I was leaving for the airport, he would remind me to take my passport. When I left in June 2019, I preempted him with a smile, “Yes, Oga Sir, I have my passport.” We didn’t know it would be the last time we would share that joke. But I have a feeling that when we meet in Heaven, he will ask if I used the correct passport to cross the celestial border.
According to Proverbs 18:24, “Friends come and friends go, but a true friend sticks by you like family” (The Message). Chuks was that friend. Though not biologically related, he was my brother. Indeed, it was at his death that my 18-year-old daughter realized that he was not my “real brother.” As far as I am concerned, he was my “real brother.”
Still, I acknowledge that as I grieve this loss, what I feel is incomparable to the depth of sorrow in the hearts of his children (Ekene, Chioma and Chukwuemeka) and siblings. We continue to pray that the Holy Spirit will fill the hole in their hearts and comfort them with His presence and strength.
Adieu, Oga Sir! I miss you but look forward to continuing our banter in Eternity!
Prof. Patience Akpan-Obong and family
Arizona, USA