Broo, tomorrow, we come together to bid you farewell as you exit this world forever. You were an idol from a distance. That orotund voice became a morning ritual when I was in school.
I’d usually not miss your morning sports on Luv FM because of that piercing tone and your mastery of the Queen’s language.
I never dreamed of ever getting the opportunity to get close to you. But when you contacted me via Facebook that you read and enjoyed my articles, I celebrated that message like I had achieved an out-of-the-world feat. How that gap closed!
Even since our paths crossed, it became apparent I had for years nursed a very wrong impression of you. Broo (as we used to refer to each other), you were too pleasant a human. You were so down to earth, and always ready to help.
You’d be the first to message me to correct a post on my wall. Whenever I received a text from you in the course of my shows suggesting I should call you back, I’d readily know I had pronounced a word or name wrong. Not too many of you left in this job. Even when I thought I wasn’t fit to clean your shoes in this job, you were asking me if I head leads to stories. You’d ask if I had details to this or that and when I had done stories you liked, you ready to supply me updates.
Chris, you were uncompromisingly blunt in pointing out when I had gone amiss – as equally charitable in giving the thumbs up. That is how I learnt in the job.
When I moved to Accra, you gave me a great welcome and great lessons as well. I couldn’t believe you actually drove all the way to my office to assess the working environment, and to advise how I could fit in. This visit was not once, not twice.
You evolved from being my idol, to a boss, a friend and a brother. You were truly a warm-hearted human. When communication failed for a week or two, I’d notice something had gone wrong. In all, you’d come back stronger. Even on your sick bed, you stood still and remained grossly relevant in this profession. You fed that our lively WhatsApp Group with sports news, only for us to hear about your passing less that 72 hours later. It is still hurt that you left.
I would have wished you stayed longer. be here longer enough to continue to teach me and many others. To correct our small grammatical errors and offer those deep thoughts on pressing sporting issues.
As a journalist, you were a COMPLETE professional. Point blank, fierce in putting across your opinions and held on so strong to your convictions even in your most difficult times.
You resigned from GHALCA as an administrative manager when you found the system impolitic. Others in this part would have stayed on to sip in the sweetness. But that was you, Columbus.
It is absolutely onerous to be clean. To dedicate a time to God and prayer in this grueling job but you effortlessly appeared first, as a man of God – and second, as a sports journalist. You loved prayer, and you stayed close to God
You fed your wife, Vivian T Opoku and your three beautiful girls with God, and so even as you leave, I do not think they’ll ever go hungry.
Chris, you leave this land as one of its truest servants. More so you leave this world as one of God’s truest sons. I have no doubt you’re resting in the very bosom of your maker.
Broo, I appreciate all of it, and I’m happy because I never missed an opportunity to let you know all what I’ve written today. As you used to end your radio shows,
‘Until we meet again, it’s a wrap”.