Komla Dumor's Death Reminds Me Of My Narrow Escape In 1990

'Death,' in the view of Christopher Pike, author of the Last Spine, 'never comes at the right time despite what we mortals believe. Death comes, like a thief.'

The death of ace international broadcast journalist, Komla Dumor, which occurred at the prime of his career and announced in London on Saturday, cannot be put in any other context.

When Komla finished presenting Focus on Africa on Friday evening and disappeared, perhaps into the midnight underground, and headed for home, he was booming with exuberance, especially after the boss had called him to his office and told him to get ready to become the face of BBC at the World Cup in South Africa, next June.

The next day, he was struck down by the icy hands of death. What makes this particular death painful is that Komla was at the pinnacle of his life and career. At 41, he was horribly too young to die.

One month before Komla's mother went into labour and delivered the bouncy little boy on October 3, 1972, I had taken the matriculation oath at the Ghana Institute of Journalism, together with my good friend, Kwesi Pratt, Selma Alhassan, Assuming Gyamfi, late Isah Abdul-Kareem and other students constituting the class of 1974.

It is a shame that barely 41 years after setting foot on this earth, Mr. Komla Dumor has left us in shock. Death is one trip all humans would have to undertake. The redeeming feature in Komla's case is that he has paid his duce to journalism in the country and moved the cause of Africa, from mere reports on wars and conflicts onto development-oriented stories on prime time news on both BBC World Service radio and television. Komla had a very unique voice, so pervasive that it was impossible to ignore when he took on over the microphone.

Former South African President, Nelson Mandela's daughter, Makeziwe Mandela, who was interviewed by Komla on the death of her father recently, described Komla Dumor as a 'shining star of Africa, ' as world leaders competed with themselves to compose fitting eulogies to describe his outstanding contribution to the cause of Africa.

At home and abroad, leaders offered their sympathies to the bereaved family. The President of the Ghana Journalists Association, Affail Money,  asked for the establishment of a fund to cater for the three children of the departed broadcast icon.

'We are proposing that his children should also receive a state attention by way of instituting a fund to cater for them. The GJA President was speaking to Citi FM in Accra. It is a call that should struck accord with many practitioners risking their lives to inform the nation. What is uncertain is not whether or not the fund would be set-up.

With the recent experience with the administration of the Media Fund as a guide, it would take some doing for the fund to wait on Komla's children.

In 2011, former President John Evans Atta Mills announced the setting up of a media fund to help improve the image of journalism in the media landscape and the media in general.

Among roof-top advertisement of charting a 'Better Ghana' Presidential praise signers milked the announcement as heralding a new image in public discourse in the country. It was an era when the Government of the day cared for the output of journalism as a noble profession in Ghana, we were constantly reminded.

When asked to announce the modalities for the disbursement of the fund, an official Ministry of Information bulletin told bemused Ghanaians that the fund had actually been disbursed; buying computers from President John Dramani Mahama's pet computer company rlg, and given out to some journalists and media institutions.

Both the National Media Commission and the Ghana Journalists Association issued statements indicating that they were unaware of how the decision to disburse the fund was taken and when the implementation stage was honoured.

Trust so-called Men of God to take advantage of situations to advertise their powers. The founder of New Jerusalem Chapel of Ghana is reported to have forecasted that more journalists would die this year. Remember that not too long ago, a priest went public demanding $20,000 from the Ghana Football Association as condition for the Black Stars performing well in Brazil.

It is all in the business of making those lining their pockets on the word of God, more marketable. Even then, it is difficult to conjecture why a priest could go public on the possible deaths of newsmen.

But in this era when money appears to rule the heads of most mortals, it is no miracle that the  head of the small congregation at the New Jerusalem Church could use the Komla Dumor tragedy to make himself relevant in his ecclesiastic mission.

Whatever it is, one hopes there is a lasting monument to Komla's great works. In spite of all the grieving and goodwill towards the family, there would come a time when humans might forget about the Dumor magic. The moment Komla is buried, all the good he did is likely to be interred with his bones.

In a moment like this, I would like to spare a thought for Joseph Heller, who stated in his Death and Dying war thus: 'It does not make a damn bit of a difference, who wins the war to someone who is dead.'

Heroism, in effect, has no place in conceptualizing the dead, which is why the story of Komla Dumor as the most accomplished broadcaster to come out of Africa, ought to be told and celebrated.

The Komla Dumor tragedy could also be a timely reminder to those of us who risk poor diet, the elements and dictatorial tendencies of men and women in power and their accomplices, to inform and educate the public.

I was saved by the bell from an early call by my maker. The scene was London, where Mr. Dumor unfortunately fell. I was working for the Aga Khan media empire as London correspondent of the Nation of Kenya, with offices at the fashionable Warren Street, at the heart of London.

I bought a property in 1990, after months of haranguing from what 'Kwaitriot' describes as the daughter of my father in law, on a monthly mortgage of 570 Pounds, in addition to an insurance premium. A few other bills brought my monthly obligation to over 1,000 Pounds.

To make ends meet, I had to take on a few other jobs, while I tried to read Economics at the London University, as a private student at the same time. As fate would have it, I saw a job advert for Station Supervisor with British Rail. The pay attached to it was good. I applied for the job, went for an examination and passed the interview.

I was asked to attend medicals on a particular Friday and report for work the next Monday. I went to the medicals, believing that there was no cause for alarm. Barely three months earlier, I had gone through a thorough medical examination with my General Practitioner, as condition for buying my property. There was nothing untoward.

When I jumped into the train at Barking to Euston, for my medicals, I was dreaming of a financial power from my new job to end my early morning and late night shuttle for auxiliary jobs to augment my income.

I was shocked to the marrow to learn that my pressure had gone through the roof. The Indian doctor conducting the test hired a Black Cab (London taxi) for me to reach my GP at Norbury. The story in this narration is that I had developed such high blood pressure that had I not consulted the doctor, Mother Earth would have received my remains as early as in 1990.

I did not take up my new appointment. Rather, I quit my old job and stopped my Economics course. I lay fallow for two months before coming out of my hide-out. Thank God, I was able to take up the pieces. The side effect is that I carried high blood pressure from London to Accra. As you read this piece, I am still on medication for high blood pressure.

The sad case of Komla Dumor should inform those of us working under pressure, especially to check on our health regularly. Only a split second divides the cheerful looking hard working person from the grave. Rest in Peace, Komla. You have paid your dues to Mother Ghana and the entire continent of Africa.