By FEMI AKINTUNDE-JOHNSON

Sadiq Abubakar Daba was one of the people whom I expected to call me and yap me after the release, tomorrow, of my small book on Nigerian movie people, Reflections…He would likely send a messenger, or call out of the blues: “FAJ, upon all your mouth…is that all you could write about me…go and sit down, my friend, and do correct reflection…” And then a long throaty laugh…before some small talk.

Sadiq left us brusquely, as is typical, yesterday… But we cannot say he didn’t give enough notice.

He tried to live… fighting a stubborn chronic ailment determined to still his voice, and drain his charisma.

Sadiq fought like mad… he reached out to several people… determined to do all he could to live a healthy life, even before the pandemic strolled in.

But Nigerians didn’t ignore him…at least those who could help…tried. I remember the serious efforts of Femi Otedola, an invigorating angel to many stricken Nigerians. I’m aware he tried…

I remember my “running mate”, Azuka Jebose – even from his Yankee coven – also marshalled his troops of do-gooders to rally funds for SAD…they tried.

I also remember the concerted campaigns of Uncle Soni Irabor, Joe Okei-Odumakin, and few others… they also tried…

Apparently, it wasn’t enough… Sadiq couldn’t outperform the grim reaper…the lanky thespian failed yesterday to answer the actor’s most cherished moment: the curtain call.

Adieu, my warm friend…even in the cold beyond.
Rest, Bitrus…now, that your cock has crowed at dawn of March 3, 2021… no more wars. Peace eternal.

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PS: As a roving tribute…what do you remember most keenly about Sadiq Daba?