Zik Zulu Okafor took my day yesterday. Incidentally, it was my birthday, and I decided to celebrate low-key. I refused to call for a celebration or Thanksgiving on my wall. I refused to twit. I have been in the news in Abia so much in the last couple of weeks that I decided to remain a bit in the cold corners of life. Yet, over 150 friends pursued me to my timeline. Genuine friends, they are! Thank you, Buddies!

While in solitude, Zik Zulu kept me company with his tribute on the thespian idol, Saint Obi. His piece was surreal and evocative, resonating with the intriguing enigma of literary power. It also achieved its mission of conquering hearts for the dead. It won and held captive the hearts and emotions of a numberless people. The piece is still rampaging and bulldozing global barriers. Perhaps, no memorial can be as ardent, and no ritual of immortality can be as potent as Zik’s lexical power. The story touched the chord of existentialism as it plays out in most marriages of fame and fandom. But, this is not my drift.

Zik’s story brought back Saint Obi to the original path of stardom that was his life before he dimmed into oblivion. It tells me that the thespian hermit was destined for the public, to be forever in partnership with the crowd. The NollyWood, his marriage, and his sad end are all part of the design of his stage of fame.

The last I read such a disarming tribute was the piece written by the American writer Lance Morrow, on the death of Princess Diana in the TIMES MAGAZINE. Morrow won a fan in Adindu that day. Zik Zulu has added to his list. But, the appeal is not more of literary prowess but significantly of the statement of life, a paradox of each man’s journey and each man’s fate….. Onyenachi ya.

Saint Obi was not born to be unknown.

Even as marriage seemed to have conquered and diminished our screen hero, he has risen again in death through the awesome pen of Zik Zulu. Such is the life of great men and their covenant of immortality. His life was brief but with so much drama and intensity.

Fare thee well, good man. You once offered me a drink at OJEZ. That was the last I saw you. You completed your circle of fame.


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