Saturday May 19th 2007, the shocked, jetlagged, dazed, tired, grieving throng of humanity forgot their personal hype and the hoopla for a day of tribute; for Victor was the real deal, and we must honour him. A rainbow of nationals trooped in from across the continents, united in collective grief, to pay their last respects to a truly unique soul; Dr Victor P Pungong. They would travel from continent Europe, Australia , Asia, Africa, America all across the UK ; their hearts united in grief and disbelief over the loss of “Vicky.”
Everyone was there, including the cream of the Cameroonian UK community. A mishmash of humanity; friends, colleagues, associates, schoolmates, family, and the simply curious, had been caught up in the momentum of a horrendous tragedy, and descended to the City of Dartford, Kent thronging its modest Holy Trinity Church . Alive, Victor Pungong and his family had spiritually nourishment here. In death, this little house of God will be distinguished as the church where his requiem mass was celebrated, - a landmark in history by every standard!
It would seem the town and its peoples had never known a more momentous occasion. Sitting smack in the middle of the town centre, the church had became a centrepiece of curiosity. Bewildered locals flocked out of their fringes, to stare in stupefaction at the bleak sea of black; our collective “garbs of woe,” for strangers had invaded their city all splendidly decked.
The church was packed to capacity and more, as the Nation of Mourners splashed out of the huge church doors, spilling 50yards out into the distance of the pavement; a black sea of people. Each person could claim Victor as a best friend, and it will be true. Those lucky to have seats inside were compartmentalized into groups, as Victor’s connectivity was varied and wide; colleagues, friends, family, professionals, Cameroonians, US Delegation, B’da Delegation, Association of this, Association that etc- and PEMEXANS! Schoolmates, amongst whom this humble writer found a place, I took a seat besides old friends and schoolmates; Virginia sat on the left, Ophelia on the right, Lisa, Jane, Adeline, and Andine in front, Grace there, Okah, Ebenezer… - At the end of the pew sat William Tinwa Nzokikang—he had flown in from Belgium. There was Bogba and his wife at that other end there—they came in from Atlanta . And Patience Mancho and her sister Florence from NY, I think… etc, etc. In spite of his network of connections, Pemexans would claim Victor as their “special one”, the most. He formed the Ex students Association, coined the Acronym for their alma mater PSS Mankon, and he was their first Senior Prefect…a big brother to most of us our loss is total.
13:50, we rose respectfully, puckered our lips and held our breaths in funereal silence. The body had arrived, led by the Reverend Hogarth. And there, the stricken widow covered in a black chiffon veil. Jessie was bearing up splendidly in dignity, holding her young brood about her, supported by some friends. Her sense of loss, I imagined will weigh heavily upon her. They walked slowly in front of the Casket in step. Then, the solemn procession of pallbearers- brothers bonded in grief. Seemly they “carried” the Oak Casket effortlessly. But like the rest of us, their hearts would be heavy. I checked out some of them, Dr Hyacinth Nwana who and his team had valiantly orchestrated the funeral organisation of his friend and brother, right from that fateful Wednesday—Humphrey Kisob, - Kingsley Pungong, Kisob Nico (who will sing a solo dirge of Elton John’s Candle in the wind adapted specially for Victor), Fey Nwana... And there was Edwin Tita. He had flown in from Texas . Edwin always had a serious mien, I thought looking at him. I couldn’t imagine the weight of this loss to him. Many precious moments with Victor would play out painfully in his mind in the coming years, I imagined. Dr AB Abam, one of the young protégées of Victor; who knows if he had been inspired to leave Germany to come to the England by Victor!! They walked besides the casket, in honour of their brother. Hmmn! Our hearts were heavy!!
The two-tiered oval Durham Oak Casket was about 7ft long, adorned with wreaths and flowers, it was a majestic thing for such a tragedy circumstances. A solid affair of finely-crafted polished, yellowish panelled Durham Oak Wood, it appeared beguilingly modest. A wooden handle ran almost the length of the body, ornamented only at the most inconspicuous brass ears at the edges. The gentleman who lay inside would definitely have approved. Just like Victor, his casket was understated class.
As the procession conveying “The Body” made its way towards the altar, the Trinity choir set the mood music for the occasion in a shrill and doleful note. It cut across the room and penetrated straight into the hearts. The grim-looking undertakers brought up the queue, dressed fittingly sombrely, walking in practiced step, with glum expressions. Reality hit home; lumps stuck in throats and eyes welled up in tears, as we had all set eyes on the pine box.
The mass progressed in songs and liturgical reflections and readings. A litany of eulogies and earnest testimonies followed. Speaker after speaker delivered powerful speeches worthy of the man in the coffin, buttressed by anecdotes about Victor’s involvement in countless projects. I viewed the increasing admiration of the man, through the body language of members of the Trinity Choir. An all-White membership, they may not have known Victor Pungong personally. As they listened to the factual accounts, it was obvious they became increasingly impressed, as they looked at each other from time to time, enthralled, nodding in appreciation as people do, when they hear something said that impresses them about someone. At that moment, I could feel a collective pride and grief as we all basked in the glow of his outstanding achievements which left none in doubt as to the greatness of his stature, the nobility of his character, affability of personality, the meekness of his great soul- diplomatic, intelligent… the traits described in superlatives, as accolades were heaped on him, emphasising the heaviness of our loss. He made us proud in life and brought us together in death.
Speeches were delivered by the Commonwealth Secretary General Don Mc Kinnon, The Cameroonian High Commissioner to the UK Mr Samuel Libock , who genuinely held himself from crying (for real.) The Rev Hogarth advised us not to despair “for Victor was a very good man. And as a very good man, he is still amongst us...” On behalf of Jessie the widow and the Kids, Humphrey Tebit, quoted lines from that famous poem by Canon Henry Scott-Holland, “Death is Nothing At All” I have only slipped away into the next room…
In this highly-charged emotional environment, the young Christine Amah, Victor’s first child and only girl reminded us in her little elegy to her father that our loss was nothing compared to that of his children. Nfor Ngalla, his friend, on behalf of the FOC, Cameroonian UK professionals (Friends of Cameroon- founded by Victor) roused the moment with a speech delivered in bitter lament, his forehead creased in grief. Victor had a global vision for his family, his country, the world- and his life had been snuffed prematurely. His work must carry on, Nfor reflected. It was a heavy loss to him, a heavy loss for all.
Then his younger brother Kingsley Pungong stepped up the rostrum! With a nobility of mien that bore the same striking physical characteristics of Victor himself, Kingsley reminded us of a brother’s/family’ s heavy loss. He delivered his speech eloquently and passionately. It was verbal dignity exemplified. With an emotional control worthy of his departed brother’s stature, Kingsley rendered a deeply cutting speech, giving a personal account to underscore his personal loss. Victor, he said, was an inspiration and worthy example of any immigrant. From humble beginnings he had soared to the heights of success, dragging his family along. The enormity of the family loss could not be quantified; in his words it was “incalculable.” Victor represented many things to many them. A father to his siblings, as they had lost their father quite young too, Victor was a brother, a best friend, a mentor and an inspiration! ! To their mother, he was a son and a confident and a husband. To the whole family, Victor was a driving force of unity and a cathedral of inspiration. When he finished his speech, the silence was palpable and there was hardly a dry eye in that room. If it were a happy occasion, here was a speech that would have attracted a long standing ovation. Kingsley cut his speech abruptly with “Adieu Vicky,” holding himself up with the greatest effort. We were all left with the satisfaction of knowing that Victor had nurtured those outstanding values in his siblings, attributes for which he endeared himself to us. Kingsley is almost retracing Victor’s footsteps from PSS Mankon, to University studies in the UK , and like a well tutored pupil he has learnt greatly from the master and had confidently veered off to carve out a fulfilling life in California for himself. A testimony to the great man’s altruism which resulted in progress for others. Victor’s outstanding contributions were inimitable.
The Lying in State, gave us a hard jolt of bitterness and the floodgates of tears broke spectacularly. It was our last chance to “view” Victor Pungong. The swing bar of the casket was flung back, revealing a rich interior of the casket. It was made of white satin with an ornamental fern leaf embroidery in the lightest of smoky pink. It also revealed our gloomy reality. Victor’s body on public display. Mourners filed passed to view the corpse of a fallen hero, dispelling their last lingering doubts and disbelief. Those who had been hit by the shock suffered another doze. Some with a prayer upon their lips, some staggered backwards in shock, others with a lump in their throat. Those who couldn’t keep it in let it out. There IT was— Dr Victor Pupesie Pungong, sleeping the everlasting slumber in a Casket! It was the ultimate shock to surpass all hits. True to his character, Victor had died “sur les champs-de-bataille,” a leading servant at work. It was so wrong. He was so young. He had so much still to give!! Unfinished projects littered here and there and everywhere,- like broken toys left by a child—Vicky had left us midstream. God said, “Come My Son” and like an obedient child, you got up to respond to the next assignment. And we are left bereft. Ashia to me, ashia to you all. Hmmn! Weh!!
After the service was over, we piled out in front of the Church and stood near the hearse, waiting tight-lipped, heavy-hearted for the casket to be taken back to the funeral home. A sea of heads spread along the pavements in little pockets of melancholy, each immersed in their grief. A lone voice rang out in a clear doleful voice of anguish, as Victor’s cousin wailed openly, echoing our general outpourings for her departed brother. The casket shoved in, flowers placed on the various cars, hatchbacks were lowered, and off they went! We waved Adieu to Victor. We won’t be seeing him ever again.
We made our way to the Hilton Hotel for another round of refreshments and more testimonies about the life of Dr Victor Pungong. We were treated to an array of his creativity in colour; both in videos and still photographs, where he mingled with the high and the low. His colleagues spoke of his professionalism, diligence and dedication to service. His colleague Professor Adefoye was not ashamed to break down and cry in melancholic loss. We watched one of Victor’s favourite documentaries which he is said to have watched in repeats; it was another envisioned man of history; Dr Martin Luther King’s delivery of the famous “I Have Dream” 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial. Many viewed the speech with renewed interest, through the prisms of the departed but present. It gave a deeper insight into the character of the man we had just painfully lost. When Lloney Monono, whom I was standing with, commented, I thought I saw his face etched in sorrow as he shook his head sadly. “He was truly a great guy,” he said looking at the screen. I knew he meant Victor, and the obvious comparison clicked. It would seem Victor’s talents were limitless.
It would also seem incongruous that in spite of the obvious sorrow, the family had spared no expenses to take care of their guests. They had splurged out on food and drink. Hungry mourners trooped towards the buffet table and dug into the pies, sawyer, sandwiches, fruits, cakes and drinks, going for second helpings. A bit of mingling with others some catching up to do, difficult to express joy at meeting old acquaintances long lost in the passage of time. A gentle squeeze here, a hug, a kiss, a handshake, an “Ashia”—friends renewed old ties in a moment of tragedy, thanks to Victor.
The next phase of the evening took us to Victor’s home, for traditional wake-keeping. Pemexans hijacked the night, disallowing artificially recorded songs, by singing old songs they had shared with their beloved Victor in PSS. More food and drinks and more mingling and catching up. I was struck by Tita Edwin, whom I caught at one point, unsuccessfully trying to hide tears behind glasses, as late as 21hrs or thereabouts. I couldn’t quantity this guy’s hurt, so I just wiped the tears rolling down his cheeks. Some things really do make big men cry. It is a force of nature that has hit him big time. Ashia Ed.
There was a decisive moment of prayer which moved everyone. A prayer delivered forcefully, like nothing anyone has witnessed before. Not me, by any chance. Delivered simultaneously in the two official languages of Cameroon French and English, a man and a woman thundered words of prayer one speaking, the other translating. They invoked the spirit of God into the night, to bless the occasion, immersing us into the blood of Jesus, casting out the demons, blessing the food, us, and the departed soul. At the end of that prayer, I was left with a feeling of one who had just flushed their teeth. It was a like much needed spiritual nourishment.
We sang deep into the night, socialized, ate sang, listened to speeches, prayed some more, met old friends- Nelson, Gerald, Titus, Ralf, Eric, Ben Achu, etc etc and made new friends, and perhaps lost old ones. But we were all united in grief, as we condoled the wife and the kids.
Much later, the personal testmonies in open microphone presentations would reveal a chillingly deeper, politically radical side of Victor. Titus Ejua would later give one of the most blood curdling testimonies about last emails written minutes before Victor's death. Friends would lament about their projects left en mis chemin... plans for his new placement in NY that will never be realized. As Victor set his eyes higher in his career ready to take on America, it seems he had carried the burden of ten men in his 40years of life's journey. And the Good Lord had to relieve him, leaving his works in progress to be completed by others. Victor was gone and the challenge was for others to carry on regardless.
As we made our homeward journeys, in our hearts, we had given a much loved, too cherished, especially sweet and gentle soul a befitting farewell. I, like many amongst us, have often learned from and been inspired by Victor Pungong, and I continue to be inspired by him. An emblem of patriotic pride, with the unique ability to combine greatness and humility, Victor in his awesome achievements touched many lives across the continents. A man for all seasons, a profound gentleman extraordinaire for all reasons, he was the Prime Minister of Cameroon who never was. He will be greatly missed.
Adieu dearest Vicky, my greatest respect to you until we meet to part no more. I feel blessed to have known you and humbled by your legend.
Respectfully in your honour. |
Home > Articles > Articles > Late Dr. Victor Pungung Farewell
30/04/2008 22:59 
Samira 
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