The body of the breadwinner was suited up still in a brown casket.

The mid-morning weather was moody, even chilling – it was an appropriate temperature for mournful processions.

The presidential press corps moved around the corpse of the late presidential correspondent Samuel Nuamah of the state-owned Ghanaian Times.  It was to pay their last respects.

The last time a journalist’s funeral was held here, the late Komla Dumor was celebrated for heroics in the media industry.

This one was about the life of another journalist who was just about warming up to make his big impact, his big break in journalism.

Until a traumatizing Thursday in August, ended the 6-year career of Samuel Nuamah at the presidency after the vehicle carrying presidential correspondents was involved in an accident.

“All end in such a waste of your life”, President John Mahama said, sadly recognizing that Samuel had more ahead of him. Many will call it negligence-engineered waste.

President John Mahama wore shades and a black suit, and led the trail of government delegation.  

The state and type of bus vis-à-vis the transportation needs of the presidential press corps has been under great media scrutiny.

Many dignitaries were here. Former GJA Presidents, Gifty Afenyi-Dadzie whose leadership many miss.

Ransford Tetteh, and Yaw Boadu Ayeboafo including the embattled reigning president of GJA Affail Monney.

NPP General Secretary Kwabena Agyapong was the most recognisable opposition politician there. And he made a pretty lonely walk to file past the body.

And there was Stan Dogbe.  Arguably the media’s number one public enemy: many media practitioners have demanded that the presidential staffer is sanctioned for his incorrigible attitude towards the press.

Communications Minister Omane Boamah and embattled presidential staffer Stan Dogbe

Stan’s clothes looked solemn. He wore shades too keeping a usual low profile as he moved around the president.  

He hopped with practiced flair into one of the V8 vehicles and with its infamous speed, scurried off the premises after all was said and done.

Samuel Nuamah’s son was the only nonchalant member of the family in mourning. He chewed on a stick as the tributes were read.

And why not? He tossed and turned around the family seated under the canopy. Somebody will need to do some explaining later in life. Later, but not today. Today he wore black shirt – not his uniform he would have worn if tragic Thursday had not happened.

Not too far from Samuel's son was his wife. She cut a cruel look of grief. Her face sustained the countenance of a woman whose heart had been pierced.

Her tears crystal and ceaseless – only the president’s presence stifled her grief temporarily when Mahama moved close to console her. He muttered words recorders couldn’t pick up.

The president’s shades hid the huge burden he might be feeling towards the family.

Samuel died reporting Mahama's work and words. It must be a gutting feeling for the president.

It must be even worse for the bereaved wife.

Her spirit was not around us at the forecourt of the State House.

She clutched the casket as her husband was driven away. Where your treasure is that is where your heart also is and her's was now in a neatly hammered box.

Her looks fleeted away from the premises as some apparent sense of absent-mindedness clothed her.

After 10am, the young men carried the casket on the shoulders and accompanied by some sad tunes walked the late Samuel Nuamah into his last bus.

It was a shiny black hearse.

This hearse, the last car Samuel lies in was better looking than the previous bus he sat in. 

The ride to the cemetery was more serene and less chaotic than the previous one to cover the President.

But the late Samuel Nuamah wouldn't know.