I received the sad news of the passing of my former colleague in The Guardian newspapers as well as in the Senate, Senator Ayogu Eze.
Ayogu was a brilliant journalist. One of the dedicated reporters The Guardian recruited and trained in the 1980s.
Ayogu transitioned from journalism to politics and excelled in this career. He ascended from being a governor’s spokesperson to being a commissioner and later a senator. He was skilled at his work as a legislator, and we had close associations even though we used to have principled disagreements. He was PDP, and I was APC. Sometimes we had shouting matches at committee meetings, and sometimes we made jokes about our disagreements. He will later quit the PDP to join the APC, two parties that have since morphed into one like siamese twins.
Ayogu tried twice to be the governor of Enugu State but faced setbacks.
Early in February, I got a call from him inviting me to the wedding of his daughter in Lagos. “You must honor me with your presence. This girl is your daughter. His mother is your sister from Ifaki, Ekiti State,” he said. I was touched by that, particularly at a time when most Nigerians are retreating to their ethnic enclaves. The story of Ayogu and his Ekiti wife, who, if I am not mistaken, he met at The Guardian, is one that gives hope. The wedding happened, but sadly, I couldn’t attend. Two days later, I tried to call to apologize for my inability to attend but could not reach him. I called a mutual friend who informed me that Ayogu suffered a massive stroke the day after the daughter’s wedding. The news was devastating.
Two months later, I woke up to the news of his passing. What a very sad one this is—this intertwining of joy and sadness. How could the occasion of such joyousness be married with the tragedy of a stroke and ultimately death? That is the nature of our existence.
It reminds me of the title of a periodical I used to read when I was growing up: Sadness and Joy. The earlier we accept this as the reality of life, the better for us mortals. This will do us the good of moderating our appetite for wealth, for position, for all the glittering things of life; it will chip away at our huge and unhealthy ego; it will help us relate to living moderately, giving and not always taking.
Ayogu has done his bit and gone; we can only console his wife, children, and all those he left behind while the rest of us, who are still playing God, learn a lesson from this flimsy and fleeting human existence.
Journey well, dear brother and friend.
