Hadi, the Story of a Meteor (An Eulogy) By Olu Lipede.

[FMINigeria]

Late Hadi Yaro Alhassan One of the things that parents fear the most is the loss of a child. Even if the child was sixty at the time of death, he/she is still the child of the parents. The prayer is that the child outlives the parent and possibly even outperform, in areas of human endeavour. No other person knows how it feels when a parent loses a child. Not even the parent can describe the depth of the hurt or the intensity of the ache. But the parent knows and the only other entity that understands is God, the creator, the Almighty.

As one grows in a community, life bestows such titles as youth, father or mother, elder and if one lives long enough, and is still relevant, one becomes the spirit and the man in one, referred to as "the respected elder". My sojourn in the community of Information Officers has conferred on me some of these titles. Some watched me grow, I have watched some grow. But what makes the difference is that I did not just watch some grow, I changed their diapers as babies in the profession, helped with teething problems, held their hands in the slippery paths of the info network and stayed close up to the stage they left to be on their own. You could not have been this involved without having the fatherly affection for those you watched through these stages. Hadi was one of my Information children and that is why I feel the pain of the loss so much.

He was part of the set that joined Information after some drought in fresh recruitment into the Service. Most of them formed smaller circle of friends, herded together, each group drifting to same spots most of the time. He was a gold fish easily identified by his slim, straight gait, his fair almost Caucasian skin and his thin eyes with the penetrating look. His initial demeanour is that of a haughty, if not totally arrogant boy. He kept to himself most of the time. But then he was one of the ones who showed promise quite early. Ever ready to take on assignments and deliver. He was easily perturbed if you told him what he gave was not good enough. He would ask for guidance, sometimes asking for so much detail so as to be sure he got you right. Times like this, he might be somehow aloof, keeping it all formal and nothing else. He would only break into a smile when you express satisfaction with the final submission. His thin eyes would open wider with the smile on his face – that means he is happy, satisfied t

hat he has got it right. He always wanted to be a part of success, not from the periphery but being a major contributor. In this, he drove himself hard.

His days outside of headquarters kept him out of my view and then I was away too. But we converged again at headquarters, this time in Abuja, not Lagos. A lot had happened; Hadi the boy had become Hadi, the man. However, certain characteristics did not leave – his bluntness and his passion for excellence. That bluntness was what made some fear him; he would not spare you even if you were as tall as high heavens. As long as he felt something unjust had happened, he was already bristling for a "fight".

When I went to call him to work with me, some said I was asking for trouble. But I was sure they did not know him well. He accepted the request with such humility. We would argue on issues, toy with new ideas and eventually agree on why one strategy was superior to the other. After all, our work then was about ideas and strategy. Just like it would happen in a family, we did quarrel too. He felt strongly about some issues but never confronted me head-on. We made up when he realised he based his quarrel on wrong assumptions.  Later, we were both "sacked" from the Project. He was quick to follow me to "Afghanistan" where no one wanted to go.  Features Office was left for dead but we were happy to be there. Ideas and ideas, debates upon debates – oh, how we relished it all. Some of his best feature works, I am sure, were produced during this period. By this time, Hadi had fully matured; he had become a rounded professional with a much broader view of life and the intricacies of local and international affairs. T

he dream was cut short when I was taken away again. However, this time, there was no gap. Hadi called regularly to ask after my well-being, give me hints about new ideas he might be working on and promising to send same across as soon as he was sure. "Let me tap from your experience", "how do I go about this?" "Do you mind if I use your format on that ... for this new thing I am about to produce"?

Before my own eyes, he had become a man of his own. His works as Media Manager for the Minister of State for Works speak for him. It was as if he knew he had not much time left. He rose like a meteor, shone in the skies but like a meteor, he left too soon. I pray that none of my children in the profession would go so soon again.

Hadi, rest in peace. You have conquered the asthma that would not leave you alone when you were alive.

Mr. Olu Lipede is a Director of Information and one-time Head of the Heart of Africa Project, Federal Ministry of Information, Abuja.

Via: Federal Ministry of Information (FMI) Nigeria