AMBASSADOR SEGUN OLUSOLA – AN ENVIABLE TRANSITION
Ropo Ewenla
For death is but a passing phase of Life;
A change of dress, a disrobing;
A birth into the unborn again;
A commencing where we ended;
A starting where we stopped to rest;
A crossroad of Eternity;
A giving up of something, to possess all things.
The end of the unreal, the beginning of the real.
-EDWIN LEIBFREED, "The Song of the Soul"
Ambassador Segun Olusola’s death at 77 a couple of weeks ago came as a shock. But upon deeper reflection, it settles in as a glorious transition that challenges the living to live a life worthy of emulation. For more than one reason, his transition makes death so fashionable and enviable all because he lived well. As a young man, he set standards that others are yet to beat. In his old age, he still was the man every young man wanted to emulate and be associated with. In death, many would love to die like him. He was, in all spheres of life (and death), the very definition of excellence; simply a marvel.
Life is defined by our rites of passage. It is ultimately defined by death; for without good there is no evil; without God there is no devil; without light there will be no darkness. Life is as much a part of death as death is a part of life. We live to die and we die to live. As in the words of Henry W. Longfellow, the grave is nothing but a covered bridge leading from light to light through a brief darkness. When life is sufficient; when it has been lived adequately in the service of humanity and harmonizing the order of the world like Ambassador Olusola has done, the darkness of death becomes an illuminated path guiding him and those who take to the inherent lessons of his life towards the next stage of their being.
We remember Chief Segun Olusola an actor, playwright and a founding member of The Players of the Dawn, an amateur theatre outfit of the 50’s. We remember him as a connoisseur of art in the place of Ajibulu Moniya in the scheme of fine artistry in our world. We remember the Broadcaster of sterling qualities of the WNTV and NTV days. We remember the diplomat who was the longest-serving Ambassador of Nigeria to Ethiopia between 1987 and 1993. We remember the administrator and Ambassador who understood perfectly well the instrumentalities and functionalities of arts and culture in resolving conflicts. We remember the humanitarian who became a spot of refuge to many others across the continent in the African Refugees Foundation. We remember a father, a mentor, a pillar of support, a worthy and shining example of humanity.
It is death so touching and yet so soothing. We mourn the physical loss of an Icon and patriarch. But we celebrate the memory of a sage and gentleman of arts and culture. The pain of his loss comes with a soothing balm in the fact that he lived to the best of his ability and gave to humanity as much as he was given room to dispense.
The landmarks of Ambassador Olusola’s colossal strides across our world testify to the fact that the dead are never dead till they are forgotten. But pray, how can we as a clan and as a nation forget that a man in the mould of Obatala, the moulder of men, the embodiment of inner peace was here in our midst? How can we forget the amiable ambassador who represented the nation well, represented his community of creators exceptionally and represented the pantheon’s love, commitment, discipline and sense of justice and reconciliation so well amongst us? How can we?
We refuse to forget because what we have lost is not just a number. We will not forget because what we have lost is not just a figure. For our collective heritage, this is a reference library gone down. We must not forget even when we know that in this passing on, we have lost a part of our history. We have lost that end of the story that begins the tradition of performing troupes in the country. We have lost a shining example in broadcasting. We have no more that quintessential clarity of thought and speech as example to coming generations. We have lost in Ambassador Olusola, the overall gentle yet forceful; creative and harmonizing essence of a higher being. But in all these losses, we are jolted to realize that what we have gained is a universe of knowledge about how to shame death. Our father has shamed death.
Now that the gbedu drum has summoned the cotton head to the groove of Oshugbo, we say fare thee well in this transition. Rest well before another round begins. Sun re o, baba rere!
