By Mani N. Sorie, USA
There are no words to surmise the grief and pain I carry five years since the day the shocking news of Frank Kposowa’s death was reported. I never thought the day would come when I would take a pen and write down his epitaph. And, even as I do so, the question I keep asking myself all these years is: Why? Why? Why did that horrific accident occur? One cannot dismiss the fact that the apparent lack of enforcement of the statutes and byelaws that regulate speed limits in the country, has resulted to a surge in fatalities on our highways. Could such laws and, or safer road network systems have prevented that terrible January 2018 disaster? I do not know the answer. What I do know is that a humble and mighty piece of earth is earthling no more. The same could be said of Philip Neville, a man I came to know and respect for his eccentricity and fearlessness in his writings.
Frank Kposowa’s stimulating ideas and commitment to his country, laced with his sustained contributions to journalism will forever be etched on the foothills of history in SierraLeone. He was a good man; a man who opened doors for many and shepherd me to the pinnacle of journalism. He lived a halcyon life that was devoid of fatuousness. Even when those calm, prosperous and peaceful periods in his hey-days were tested, punctuated by social and political upheavals in the country, “Oba” Kposowa kept going. He never crumbled. He was always cheery and was never consumed by the divisive political rhetoric that became and still is the hallmark of politics in the country. In Parliament, Kposowa crossed party lines to work on issues near and dear to his constituents.
For the better part of his adult years, Kposowa immersed himself in a profession that is considered a threat to political dictators and muzzlers of free press. He bore the scars of his tenacious work in the pursuit of truth wherever it took him. During his practice, he constantly enjoined his colleagues to put down their pernicious pens of scurrilous reportage, on the altar of fair and ethical reporting. He was a man who loved his country and people. As such, he decided to turn his back on a practice he endeared so much for so long, to give his service to his constituents. He was trekking back and forth from the legislative building on Tower Hill to his people in Bo district, when he lost his life.
I will forever miss his tutelage, his candor, his humor, and laughter. I will miss “Oba,” a man who was down-to-earth and full of all the mixed elements that humanity desires. I know that external life is promised only by God, not by man or events. I take solace in the fact that he
lived a good life, and now, he is having a good rest. Adieu, my friend. I will see you someday, beyond the place beyond, beyond, beyond…. where our ultimate destination lies: HEAVEN! May the Flights of Angels Continue to Sing Thee to Thy Rest.
