Sam Nuvala Fonkem: From Mile 17 to GRA Buea

By Canute Tangwa

There is a lie and a crocodile tear in every and any eulogy. Since dead men don't bite (though the dead are not dead according to African cosmology), the living in a rare show of verbal and emotional grandstanding pour buckets of encomiums on so called departed loved ones.

The late lamented multi-talented flamboyant journalist, Sam Nuvala Fonkem is no stranger to this unwritten hypocritical rule. In fact, 'monkies' have come to parley: chattering, busybodying and jumping about. 'Ole' or Uncle Sam as he was fondly called never suffered monkies lightly.

As usual, the heavyweights will ask: who is this light weight treading where only Sam dared tread? Walking alongside Sam was often tedious but exciting.

Our first steps from a journalistic standpoint started when he lost his chum John Kale, JK, a squire, Ivy leaguer and bon vivant to the core. English Literature master and prolific writer, Moki Monono brushed a brilliant picture of their relationship in a moving-scintillating piece captioned: JK: John Kale and the Lost Generation.

At that time, Sam was on the downside, financially and professionally: real hard times that inevitably shaped and formed his opinion on some of his contemporaries.

Besides being a refined academic, JK was Deputy Mayor at the Buea Rural Council. Together with the equally gifted late Afoni Julius, we did an obituary for JK in the manner of The Economist. Thus we X-rayed his stewardship at the council, no holds barred.

When Sam stumbled on the obituary in question in Cameroon Post then and now The Post, he thundered but when subsequently he met the 'brats' who chiselled the article he beamed his characteristic warm all-embracing smile that accompanies the singular baritone that made some dream, flashing quite clearly his signature gap tooth: the smile of an all-round connoisseur with an unparalleled presence, address, intellect, world view who cherished taste and appreciated good, refine and sublime penmanship especially coming from a younger generation.

Then, Christopher Fomunyoh of the Atlanta-based National Democratic Institute burst onto the scene and the cry went up from virtually every quarter: Run, Fomunyoh, Run! For what? For the presidency of course came the chorus from pundits. Taking a look at the electoral code then, I wrote an op-ed of sorts, analysing and explaining from a legal standpoint why Fomunyoh cannot run for the presidency. Unknowing to me, Sam sent copies of my write-up to America through one of his siblings. Then I received a long distance call from Chris Fomunyoh. In essence, he was quite impressed and appreciated my effort since he knew better. Most of our intellectuals/politicians do not pay attention to detail. Sam did pay attention.

My long walk with Sam from Mile 17 Junction to Bongwa's Mountain Village at GRA Buea late one night was like a walk to intellectual bliss and an initiation exercise. First, I marvelled at his stamina. Secondly, he did not adopt a condescending teacher-pupil approach. Thirdly, he spiced his discourse with wisecracks in Pidgin, Creole, some Yoruba and English.

Throughout our walk he broached on several subjects: anglophone marginalisation, Cameroon media landscape including exploitation of talents by newspaper publishers, multiparty politics and its main actors, Southern Cameroons and our lost values, Cameroon legal system, his Bali Nyongha roots and culture, views on certain personalities (dead and alive), music (Jazz, Blues, High Life and Afro beat), international issues particularly Cameroon-Nigeria relations (low and high points), his days in Radio Cameroon, literature and so on.

Sam had his low and high points. He usually went overboard after a good drink. But he often defended selflessly the weak from native bullies and was quite sensitive to instances of injustice or where persons took him for granted. Personalities like Manu Dibango, Henri Bandolo and a host of others who ventured around his no-go-area had a story to tell. The quintessential Eric Ngeng, Jack Ekiko, Henry Bongwa or Zachary Nkwo have a bag full of anecdotes of Sam at his best and at his worst that often leave audiences reeling with laughter.

It was a privilege being part of Sam's Buea inner circle: discussions on issues were deep, intense, full of mirth, song and laughter. Usually Sam would spice such meetings at his home or Mountain Village with rare liqueur and a bag of jazz, blues, high life or Afrobeat tunes.

Comments

[Sema Fonkem]

He was a great man...

[Aloysius]

Yes Uncle Sam loved the old and the young. He also cherished my late 20's outbursts and excesses. Rest in peace Big Brother