I am still in shock.

The last time I felt this way was that fateful and gloomy day in July 2012. Before that, it was December 09, a few years ago, but that was better because even while I was in self-denial, I prepared myself for the worse the night before, and I believe strongly it was same for my younger brother and my father.
 
Komla had many friends and paddies, not to talk about the thousands of acquaintances he encountered as a result of his sterling work as a broadcaster.  He was close to his family as well, but I had my own unique kind of relationship with him- a relationship that went beyond being work colleagues. 
 
It was a difficult Saturday obviously, and apologies to all who called and texted without a response from me- I could not just see myself as the bearer of such bad news at the time you were trying to make contact, and when the family had not officially made a statement.
 
Like that morning in early December when news of my mum’s collapse tore me apart and saw me driving and crying out on the Tema-Accra motorway, I left my location somewhere last Saturday and drove towards Accra asking myself many questions.

When we lost the Prof, I walked from The Castle when I got the news, and walked all the way to the Ringway Estates, all confused and shattered. I felt worse on my drive to Accra last Saturday. 

Our last conversation on Friday was about an assignment he gave me the previous weekend and his excitement about Brazil. Yes, Brazil and I said to him, “Komla, we go make am”.
 
That is something I say often with him since the first time in about 2005 or so when our boss accused us of allegedly broadcasting falsehood about a government official, a claim we denied vehemently. Obviously I was not enthused but Dumor said, we should challenge him to strict proof. It turned out when the boss brought a CD allegedly recorded of the said programme and played it that it was just another lie against us.
 
That evening, I said to him, the weekend will be my last day at the station. He then said to me, I should not let my detractors get the better part of me because whether they liked it or not, “we go make am.”
 
That advice, coming even before my GM rejected my resignation letter and asked me to take it away, is just one of the strong influences Komla had on me.
 
We shared one office and as the Operations Manager, he was my boss. He was however always quick to point out that when it comes to the Super Morning Show; I was his boss because I was the Executive Producer, and the Head of Talk Programmes. People had a lot to say about us, but we had the support of the GM and we really transformed and did things on that show.
 
One day after some colleagues tore into us while ‘cracking’ some bottles at a joint near the Elwak Stadium, Komla said to me, “Xoese (he pronounces it forcefully and as though there is an ‘i’ at the end), we don’t have to be friends to work together. See them just as colleagues, and keep the work relationship. They will be surprised when you do that.”
 
I remember the energy and effort we put into branding the show, the revolutionary round neck and golf shirts of different kinds we produced and shared with our listeners- the trips around to check out affiliate stations etc. 

We talk about his work and my work, and about things that are very personal between us. When we last spoke about the assignment he gave me, we agreed that we would meet on Friday, this week.
 
And here we are, people sending me messages- Stan, take heart; Don’t be hard on yourself, Stan; Are you ok, Stan. 

Why Dumor?
 
I put up a brave face throughout an event I had to attend Friday night, but these messages brought home the reality that you were gone. It is the second time I have drenched myself in some activity after loosing a dear one, because I could not bring myself to join others in the family home.
 
This is devastating, Komla. A lot of things going through my mind now. Why now?
 
Oh Komla! Agyeiwaa! I be we know our things, Dumor!
 
Seyram is heartbroken, and alone in my study writing out this piece, I can only drench myself in tears. Thanks for everything you did for me, and I know you appreciated me for who I am. One day, I will share our trials and why we dedicated ourselves to doing what we love to do with zeal.
 
I remember very well your closing plea when we last spoke. I can only say, I will try my best to have it done.

Stanislav Xoese Dogbe 
3.37am
January 19, 2014. 
Accra.