Dr. Framk Arasanyin was laid to rest today, March, 3rd, 2012. Find below my funeral oration.
Frank Olaoba Arasanyin: Eulogy
By Toyin Falola
At the service of songs held yesterday evening for Dr. Frank Olaoba Arasanyin, we heard so much about our dear friend, the illustrious son of Africa and the United States. We were reminded of the promise of the afterlife, the rewards that await the righteous and the devout, the glorious ending of the faithful, and an example of humanity's victory over death. The departed was honored, as he would have wanted.
My words are to the living, the immediate family of Frank: Victoria, Femi, Sade, his kith and kin in the US, Nigeria and elsewhere. To you all, this is a heartfelt eulogy and sympathy. I know that nothing can easily minimize your loss or grief. But time, love, and faith will heal you and will heal broken hearts caused by his sudden demise, and will allow you to once again find joy in life.
I have such fond memories of my good friend, and I poured out my emotions in the first tribute that I wrote about him, telling the world that he was an exceptional human being. I do not wish to repeat myself here since I have a second opportunity to say something. Here are some of the memories I wish to share: Frank would sometimes speak sternly so we would not forget the lessons of poise and dignity. Still, the only picture in my mind is of a man who had laughter in his heart and a smile on his face. A prince among the people, he did not lead a glamorous life, and he did not move in high circles. His appreciation was more for people rather than the best things that money can buy. Professor Akinloye Ojo, the Director of African Studies at the University of Georgia, told us yesterday of Frank's great warmth and his pride in him, thereby lending the support of an elder. Others gave testimonies of his warmth, vibrancy, and energy. As Ojo was speaking, I was telling myself that life must be translated into a vision, then a vision must become a mission, and the mission pursued with passion. It is the intentionality and intensity of the vision, mission and passion that we can control. We have no control over the outcome.
I do not pretend to understand what Frank's thoughts must have been in these last months when his health began to fail him. Perhaps, thinking that he would overcome, the optimism drove him to intense privacy, but he confided in some of us.
What could he have been thinking at a time in his life when 1 plus 1 did not equal 2? Perhaps he was dealing with his past, but I would want to guess that he reflected on the future of his wife and children when he would be no more. Life poses so many unpredictable challenges to you and me. Often we are burdened with the inner turmoil of unresolved questions for years, if not decades. I believe Frank bravely fought some inner battles -- against his bad health and the sadness that came with it, against self-doubt, against hope, or something else that we may never know -- for many months or years. At a point, he must have become exhausted or forgotten what he was fighting for.
I speculate only because these are questions I inevitably ask. My occupation is driven by questions, by the power of systematic doubt, by speculations. They are not unimportant. All of you may have experienced in different ways the effects of his inability to find a different outcome. But although our lives are bound up with others and especially our loved ones, they are also separate and express their own inner destinies and beauty. So while Frank is an intimate part of your histories and gave what he knew how to offer in order to enrich and shape your lives, whatever grief his departure evoked need not infect either your understanding of your own pasts nor the creation, imagination and contemplation of your own futures. And I use pasts and futures not as an error of linguistic inelegance, not to offend our dear friend who was a linguist par excellence, but to underscore our humanity and frailty: the fact that you and I are one, but are also without one. Our meeting today, united by a past, may not be united by a future. Know we not that we manifest different journeys and experiences, and that our histories, in spite of our love for one another and bonding, may inevitably follow different paths?
My words are to the living, the immediate family of Frank: Victoria, Femi, Sade, his kith and kin in the US, Nigeria and elsewhere. To you all, this is a heartfelt eulogy and sympathy. I know that nothing can easily minimize your loss or grief. But time, love, and faith will heal you and will heal broken hearts caused by his sudden demise, and will allow you to once again find joy in life.
I have such fond memories of my good friend, and I poured out my emotions in the first tribute that I wrote about him, telling the world that he was an exceptional human being. I do not wish to repeat myself here since I have a second opportunity to say something. Here are some of the memories I wish to share: Frank would sometimes speak sternly so we would not forget the lessons of poise and dignity. Still, the only picture in my mind is of a man who had laughter in his heart and a smile on his face. A prince among the people, he did not lead a glamorous life, and he did not move in high circles. His appreciation was more for people rather than the best things that money can buy. Professor Akinloye Ojo, the Director of African Studies at the University of Georgia, told us yesterday of Frank's great warmth and his pride in him, thereby lending the support of an elder. Others gave testimonies of his warmth, vibrancy, and energy. As Ojo was speaking, I was telling myself that life must be translated into a vision, then a vision must become a mission, and the mission pursued with passion. It is the intentionality and intensity of the vision, mission and passion that we can control. We have no control over the outcome.
I do not pretend to understand what Frank's thoughts must have been in these last months when his health began to fail him. Perhaps, thinking that he would overcome, the optimism drove him to intense privacy, but he confided in some of us.
What could he have been thinking at a time in his life when 1 plus 1 did not equal 2? Perhaps he was dealing with his past, but I would want to guess that he reflected on the future of his wife and children when he would be no more. Life poses so many unpredictable challenges to you and me. Often we are burdened with the inner turmoil of unresolved questions for years, if not decades. I believe Frank bravely fought some inner battles -- against his bad health and the sadness that came with it, against self-doubt, against hope, or something else that we may never know -- for many months or years. At a point, he must have become exhausted or forgotten what he was fighting for.
I speculate only because these are questions I inevitably ask. My occupation is driven by questions, by the power of systematic doubt, by speculations. They are not unimportant. All of you may have experienced in different ways the effects of his inability to find a different outcome. But although our lives are bound up with others and especially our loved ones, they are also separate and express their own inner destinies and beauty. So while Frank is an intimate part of your histories and gave what he knew how to offer in order to enrich and shape your lives, whatever grief his departure evoked need not infect either your understanding of your own pasts nor the creation, imagination and contemplation of your own futures. And I use pasts and futures not as an error of linguistic inelegance, not to offend our dear friend who was a linguist par excellence, but to underscore our humanity and frailty: the fact that you and I are one, but are also without one. Our meeting today, united by a past, may not be united by a future. Know we not that we manifest different journeys and experiences, and that our histories, in spite of our love for one another and bonding, may inevitably follow different paths?
The answer to pain, suffering, despair, emptiness is always and only the sacredness of joy. In this period of grief, seek joy in the laughter of Frank's children. Envision the most beautiful possibilities for their lives and your own lives. What will these precious and triumphant portraits embody? Peace, dignity, generosity, and the noble struggles to maximize happiness. No less. All of these are within your grasp as we remember Frank, but let us also pursue happiness and love, believe in global peace, become more generous, and acquire the nobility to change the world for good.
You have an abundance of love and strength to offer one another. You have the tremendous support of ancestors who offer their gentle spirits. You have the sympathy and quiet faith of friends and family.
Frank is gone. The benevolent forces of the universe have now taken him to another realm, higher than the one we where we live. To heal him. To transform him into something more than a human. To show him that he was not alone. To assure him that his burdens were not so great as he, you and I thought. To chide him gently for failing to grasp the sacred joy all around him in this world, and the greater joy that lies ahead. To offer him consolation as we watch our resilient capacity for embracing all that is beautiful in the world.
As you remember Frank, let the memory be one of laughter. And when you weep, which I cannot prevent you from doing, let the tears be empowering. Let the tears be those of wisdom and strength, of hope and faith, of love and joy.
Frank is now on a mission. Greet all our ancestors for us. They want the latest reports on us. Tell my parents that I am doing well. Salute Oduduwa. Report Nigeria to them, in truth and faith; though the tongues may differ, we remain compatriots. Keep an eye on your family. Remind the living to live their lives with caution and a sense of proportion, to create a balance between work and family.
I began this eulogy as a philosopher; I want to close it as a priest, if only to respect Victoria, a wife, now a mother and a father, whose life is deeply religious. The Yoruba, of which Frank was a member, are very clever. They came up with various ideas germinated from the seeds of caution. In one such idea, they tell us that one needs money to survive in this world, but one needs iwa (character) to survive in the next world. Money and what it can buy cannot be carried to heaven. But character can, which the Yoruba define in terms of engagements with other human beings, the spirits, and the forces that guide the universe. Frank is now left with those elements of his character, his religiosity, his spirituality. He and the abstract and the reality of the various essences of the cosmos are now united.
Frank, your soul shall rest in peace;
Your surviving wife, children, friends and families will find consolation in the richness of your life and the warmth of your being;
May your family and friends have the fortitude to bear this enormous loss of a peaceful soul;
May we be offered divine solace, while being comforted and consoled that your life and life-works, and humanistic efforts are never in vain, mindful of the fact that your work yielded some visible results and inspired others, like Professors Tunde Akinyemi and Akinloye Ojo who are with us today, towards critical thinking, realistic strivings, and meaningful lifestyles.
Peace to you, my brother, a peaceful soul. Now, rest eternally and be as only you, Frank, can be, even in that land of ancestors and divinity.
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