TRIBUTE TO [ NIGERIAN JOURNALIST] DAN AGBESE by Moses Ochonu
I just learned the sad news of the passing of veteran journalist, Dan Agbese.
Perhaps unknown to many people, Agbese is my brother in the Nigerian/African sense of the word. We're from the same hometown of Agila, one of the districts that make up Idomaland in Benue State.
Growing up, we all looked up to the great wordsmith, news broker, and seductive columnist from our neck of the woods. He was our pride.
We didn't know or interact with him personally, but we knew him. He made cameo motivational and associational appearances in many formal and informal conversations amongst our people.
If someone wanted to brag, for intance, or impress his peers, he would drop the name of Dan Agbese in a way that suggested that he personally knew the legendary journalist.
Not many sons or daughters can boast of becoming such household names that their names are invoked or dropped to curry associational status.
For a time at least, he was arguably the most nationally visible person from our town, his profession giving him a national reputation and platform.
We young people from our town lived vicariously through the journalistic exploits he recorded in multiple settings, editorial boards, and newsrooms.
He was a larger than life figure for us. He was a distant unwitting motivator and inspiration—an ever-present mentor despite his physical absence. We wanted to be like him, write like him, and think like him.
If he could put Agila on the map through his talent, we could also do it.
He was an Agila man through and through. I recall not only reading a column he wrote on an abandoned federal water supply project in Agila but also saving it and rereading it over several years.
Those of us who had a flair for writing and aspired to enter the expressive disciplines saw Agbese as our own trailblazer, a hometown reference point of possibility, resilience, and success.
He and Ray Ekpu were my favorites of the Newswatch founding editor-columnist quartet.
He had a knack for playing with words and for deploying a dazzling array of expressive devices in the English language corpus.
Other legendary Nigerian columnists had that talent too. What stood Dan Agbese apart was that he combined that with profundity of analytical insight into whatever topic he was inveighing on.
In our hometown, people, young and old, simply called him Dan. Calling him Dan was no disrespect. It was a gesture of endearment. It was also a claim on him. Only us, his Agila kinsfolk, called him Dan in the tone and manner we did.
It was an indicator of how familiar Dan had become, how treasured he was. He was family and was claimed by everyone, so people didn't bother with formalities and titular niceties.
Dan embodied and still embodies this paradox in Nigeria's well-known universe of honorifics. Despite our obsession with titles, a person truly acquires honor and stature among their own people when they become simply known, not by their formal acquired titles, but by their first name or nickname.
Agbese was our Dan. If you mentioned Dan, everyone knew who you were talking about. He was such a conversational staple and presence.
Agila, Idoma, Benue, and Nigeria have lost a rare one. Thankfully, he has left us an archival trove of his decades-long intellectual interventions on Nigeria.
Travel well, elder brother.
-- I just learned the sad news of the passing of veteran journalist, Dan Agbese.
Perhaps unknown to many people, Agbese is my brother in the Nigerian/African sense of the word. We're from the same hometown of Agila, one of the districts that make up Idomaland in Benue State.
Growing up, we all looked up to the great wordsmith, news broker, and seductive columnist from our neck of the woods. He was our pride.
We didn't know or interact with him personally, but we knew him. He made cameo motivational and associational appearances in many formal and informal conversations amongst our people.
If someone wanted to brag, for intance, or impress his peers, he would drop the name of Dan Agbese in a way that suggested that he personally knew the legendary journalist.
Not many sons or daughters can boast of becoming such household names that their names are invoked or dropped to curry associational status.
For a time at least, he was arguably the most nationally visible person from our town, his profession giving him a national reputation and platform.
We young people from our town lived vicariously through the journalistic exploits he recorded in multiple settings, editorial boards, and newsrooms.
He was a larger than life figure for us. He was a distant unwitting motivator and inspiration—an ever-present mentor despite his physical absence. We wanted to be like him, write like him, and think like him.
If he could put Agila on the map through his talent, we could also do it.
He was an Agila man through and through. I recall not only reading a column he wrote on an abandoned federal water supply project in Agila but also saving it and rereading it over several years.
Those of us who had a flair for writing and aspired to enter the expressive disciplines saw Agbese as our own trailblazer, a hometown reference point of possibility, resilience, and success.
He and Ray Ekpu were my favorites of the Newswatch founding editor-columnist quartet.
He had a knack for playing with words and for deploying a dazzling array of expressive devices in the English language corpus.
Other legendary Nigerian columnists had that talent too. What stood Dan Agbese apart was that he combined that with profundity of analytical insight into whatever topic he was inveighing on.
In our hometown, people, young and old, simply called him Dan. Calling him Dan was no disrespect. It was a gesture of endearment. It was also a claim on him. Only us, his Agila kinsfolk, called him Dan in the tone and manner we did.
It was an indicator of how familiar Dan had become, how treasured he was. He was family and was claimed by everyone, so people didn't bother with formalities and titular niceties.
Dan embodied and still embodies this paradox in Nigeria's well-known universe of honorifics. Despite our obsession with titles, a person truly acquires honor and stature among their own people when they become simply known, not by their formal acquired titles, but by their first name or nickname.
Agbese was our Dan. If you mentioned Dan, everyone knew who you were talking about. He was such a conversational staple and presence.
Agila, Idoma, Benue, and Nigeria have lost a rare one. Thankfully, he has left us an archival trove of his decades-long intellectual interventions on Nigeria.
Travel well, elder brother.
From Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1Mt3jMBWqV/
Listserv moderated by Toyin Falola, University of Texas at Austin
To post to this group, send an email to USAAfricaDialogue@googlegroups.com
To subscribe to this group, send an email to USAAfricaDialogue+subscribe@googlegroups.com
Current archives at http://groups.google.com/group/USAAfricaDialogue
Early archives at http://www.utexas.edu/conferences/africa/ads/index.html
---
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "USA Africa Dialogue Series" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to usaafricadialogue+unsubscribe@googlegroups.com.
To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/usaafricadialogue/CACMz5z%3D90xE5sj%2BP-nmaq5%2BMDO0iiavGBUC8%2BnmzSspbC2Vv4g%40mail.gmail.com.
No comments:
Post a Comment