Larger than Life

“... Join Komla Dumor and friends on the Su-per Mooorning Show. Every week day on Joy-naindy-nine point-seven eef eem. CAN YOU FEEL IIIIIT?!!”

While being threatened over and sometimes, force-fed breakfast; or having the unruly hair wrestled into ‘tentacles’... sometimes in the car... Basically, I grew up on a breakfast regimen of tea/oats/porridge-and-bread and the Super Morning Show.

My mum has always been nuts about Komla Dumor, and back then, I didn’t see what the big deal was. I didn’t get the Kojo Antwi thing either. But then, small girls are always young. Today, not only can I sing the entire ‘Densu’ album; I remember Komla’s voice. I can hear it even now- the rich, smooth timbre; the semi-nasal undertones; the phonetics; his svelte delivery. I was too young to appreciate swag back then. Good thing swag in its truest form is timeless.

I’m surprised by how much I’ve learnt from Komla; even more so that most of it has been learnt in the last two days. I’ll do the atrocious and sum it up in three points:

1. Go Hard

Huh? Rather? Yes. Go hard. If life is to be short, better to be remembered as a blazing light than an elusive flicker, no? I’ve heard some say Komla’s passing just goes to show how we should take it easy since all striving in this life is for naught. I’ve been one of those people. But then I came to a realisation: doesn’t that sound like the third servant in the parable of the ten talents? Something along the lines of: “What’s the point, God? Why work so hard if you’ll take it all away from me anyway?” (paraphrased from Matthew 25:24)... and we all know what happened to that guy. I pray Komla gets his ten extra talents. Selah!

I’ve also pondered: what’s the guarantee that Komla’s life would not have been 41 years if he had lived a less ambitious life? What’s to say his drive didn’t evoke grace that kept him alive more years than originally assigned? Had Komla never been born; had he never pushed himself to the limit; given 110%; would we even know what we’re missing today? I challenge you, just as his life has challenged me: what could you be today? Get up, step out and find out.

2. Take Care of Yourself

In death too, I’ve learned this from Komla: while you push yourself to the limit, keep your body in prime form to go the distance. I’ve decided to teach myself to rest; to say to myself more often: it’s not all done but that’s okay. Tomorrow is another day- if it’s not, even better: someone else will do this work while I rest.

I know that’s easy to say when one isn’t the anchor of a worldwide news programme. This section isn’t an indictment on Komla. It’s a reiteration of the obvious: each of us has got this one body. If it’s gone, we’re gone regardless of the magnitude of the work we are charged with. The sad reality of life is that it goes on: with or without us. I resolve to remember that next time I’m speeding to make an appointment; so caught up in work that I put off eating till my stomach begins to hurt; tempted to use my evenings for the next day’s work; refusing to turn off the laptop when my eyes feel grainy and my head begins to pound; skipping the fruit section of a buffet; making another excuse not to exercise... Selah!  

3. Look Beyond the Here and Now

It wasn’t until Saturday that I discovered the disparity between what I say about death and what I actually believe. I’ve said so many times: “We’ve all got to go at some point”; “It’s inevitable”, and so on, but I guess I didn’t really believe some people could go at any time e.g. Komla. I must have thought some of us are indispensable, or more precisely, that if you’re truly living out your God-given purpose here on earth, He won’t allow your life to end till you’ve accomplished that purpose.

I now see the flaws in that logic. If the purpose is God-given, isn’t He in the best position to define what and when ‘accomplished’ is? I have felt so deeply that Komla’s life has been snuffed out, cut short- but has it? What if it didn’t stop with his heartbeat? What if it’s just began? What if his purpose has always been bigger than any of us ever saw; than he himself did see? What if there is another role Somewhere that is more real and more important than anything he could ever do at the BBC, in Africa, here on earth? What if his life and death- and all our lives and deaths are bigger than what we see on this side of existence? Selah.

These thoughts may console neither Komla’s father nor his three beautiful children; nor reduce the grief of those of us he has touched in some way. No words will. I only hope that as we mourn our loss, we refrain from feeling sorry for Komla. He has walked well- done it like a Boss. May he go on shining into eternity.

The last line in Komla’s last note to Manasseh Awuni reads “Selah! Selah! Praise Him! Tomorrow is another day. Believe in yourself”. He was right on all counts. There will always be a tomorrow; it just might not be here on earth...

... And so, as we go on with our lives, each day preparing for the next, may we look beyond the possibilities here on earth. The Bible referred to that as '... number[ing] our days...' (Psalm 90:12). In all our striving, may we strive to be successful beyond this world. After all, no matter how long we live here, we'll be There much, much longer.

Go well, Komla Dumor. We’ll catch up with you in our varying times. May Africa never forget you.