I still can’t believe that my boss, Dimgba Igwe, who spoke with me less than 24 hours before a heartless and careless driver knocked him down around his Okota, Lagos, residence, while jogging, is gone forever.
It is still very hard for me to accept the painful reality that the boss, who calls me virtually every day with a calm but authoritative voice to inquire about my editorial contents for the week, will never ask me again, “Editor, where are you, are you already at the office?”
God, why did you allow them to kill my amiable boss and teacher who regularly supervises my cover stories most Wednesdays and Fridays with his twin brother and another great boss of mine, Mike Awoyinfa?
The tears have not stopped flowing in my eyes like raindrops since the sad news hit me like a volcanic eruption that fateful Saturday morning while on my way home from work.
I slept at the office on Friday night after putting Sunday Express to bed. I woke up the next morning, which was that black Saturday, feeling unusually tired. That was very unlike me, because I normally do one or two stuffs on my computer before going home whenever I slept over. I was very close to my home when I got a call from a sister and colleague at The Sun, Mrs. Tessy Igomu.
“Azuh, what happened to Oga Dimgba?” she asked in an unstable voice.
“Nothing, I just left the office, where I passed the night and we even spoke the previous night,” I stammered.
With trepidation, I quickly added, “Did anything happen to my boss?”
She dropped the bombshell, “Oga Dimgba is dead.”
My screams and the screeching of my car to a halt ended the conversation abruptly.
With tears in my eyes and my body quaking seriously, I immediately cleared inside a filling station and put a call to my publisher, Mike Awoyinfa, who was holidaying in the United Kingdom with his family, but could not reach him after several attempts, because I only have his Nigerian number. I tried Femi Adesina, the MD/EIC of The Sun and he picked on my first dial.
“Sir, what happened to Oga Dimgba,” I asked him in a trembling voice, while praying that he won’t confirm the ugly news I just heard.
“Azuh, Pastor Dimgba is dead. I left the mortuary not long ago where we just deposited his body. He was knocked down by a hit-and-run driver while jogging this morning around his neighbourhood,” he said in a very solemn voice.
I did not even allow Adesina to finish his statement before releasing the already welled up tears waiting to let loose. I was still crying inside my car with the ignition turned off when the fuel attendants, who noticed my long and suspicious stay in their vicinity came knocking on my car.
Apparently, they wanted to come and harass me, but upon approaching and seeing a grown-up man weeping like a baby, they calmed down and even comforted me after I told them the sad news, with tears still cascading down my face that morning.
I waited for another few minutes at the filling station to compose myself before hitting the express way again.
On getting home, I tried hiding my face and ceaseless tears from my wife and inquisitive kids. But upon seeing my red shot eyes and moody face, she asked in a worried voice: “What happened to your eyes dear?”
“My oga, Pastor Dimgba, is dead.”
Her shout immediately woke our new-born baby who was sleeping in a corner of her room.
After telling her what happened amid tears, which I tried but could not conceal in her presence, we both cried. I left home and immediately headed straight for the Okota residence of my late boss.
The journey to Okota was one of my toughest since I started driving. While driving alone in my car, different thoughts were running riot in my mind amid a banging headache.
Why would God allow such a Godly man and intellectual powerhouse die in his prime?
Who could have done this to my boss?
How would my other boss and his best friend, Awoyinfa, cope without his brother from another mother?
How do I break the bad news to my team at Entertainment Express and Sunday Express newspapers?
So, I won’t see my boss anymore, chat with him or even take orders from him again? So, he won’t come into my office again, which is beside the one he shares with his devastated twin brother and our publisher, Awoyinfa, to jokingly say: “Editor, this your office is fine o; I think it’s the finest office here o.”
How about my boss’ wife and children; how are they reacting to this evil news? Who will comfort them in this trying moment?
The many Nollywood stars, family members, friends and colleagues that called to confirm and commiserate with me further compounded my woes, because the moment they dropped, my tears would increase. This was the torture until I got to my late associate publisher’s residence in Okota.
At Okota, the mood was somber with family and church members praying and crying fervently.
In the last three years, I have worked closely with both great men and also knew the bond and affinity that existed between both creative minds.
As we continue to grieve and mourn the sudden and painful loss of our associate publisher, Pastor Dimgba Igwe, at just 58, I sincerely concur with the words of famous female author, JK Rowling: “The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.”
Goodbye and goodnight dear great boss.
• Amatus, Editor of Entertainment Express and Sunday Express newspapers, wrote in from Okota, Lagos.
