I feel the loss of Comish Ekiye at a personal level. As things stand, I can only speak for myself. I was a school boy when I saw him on television for the first time. He was a miniature shadow of himself, flitting about on the screen, strutting upon the stage of life, in the days when television came in black and white only. If anyone ever told me that I would meet Comish Ekiye in the flesh one day, shake hands with him, hold a conversation with him, and hear him call me by my name, I would have found it hard to believe.
Comish Ekiye was so far my senior that I felt flattered when my name was listed alongside his in the first major set of appointments made by Alamieyeseigha when he came into office as Governor of Bayelsa State. Six cardinal officers were ratified alongside Chief Felix Oboro, Secretary to the State Government. Among the list was Thompson Okorotie, Political Adviser, and Inemo Daniel, Director, Ministry of Information. Comish Ekiye was named as Director-General, Bayelsa State Broadcasting Corporation. Mrs Grace Koroye was appointed Provost, College of Arts and Science. Freston Akpor was announced as Chief Press Secretary, and I was proclaimed as Speech Writer to the Governor.
Many years before that, I remember asking my father why the man’s name was Comish. It sounded like an adjective rather than a noun. My father said the man was an actor, and actors sometimes go by funky names, so I took it for granted that the man had to be a comedian. I was soon to learn that Comish was far from comic. He looked serious all the time. Whatever the case may be, as far as I was concerned, Comish was only to be seen on television.
I liked everything about him, his deliberate moves, his calm and self-possessed disposition, his authoritative bearing, his cool command of the English language, his measured, distinctive elocution of everyday words, to say nothing of his down to earth personality. He was the kind of actor who brought credibility to bear on his role. He personified the character he played so well that he became one with it. Not surprisingly, when he played the role of Chief Odunuga, the steadfast traditionalist in the popular television serial, The Village Headmaster, even his neighbours called him that.
Going by the calculations of the Alamieyeseigha government, Comish was to be in charge of all three arms of the Bayelsa media. In the course of time, however, Ekiye’s schedule of duty did not go beyond Radio Bayelsa in much the same way as Stan Opokuma, his predecessor. Even so, Comish was a distinguished public servant with a large aura, having served as pioneer General Manager of the Rivers State Television, RSTV, Port Harcourt. As a one-time Director of the Rivers State Council for Arts and Culture, he proved himself to be a versatile actor, playwright, broadcaster, director and producer. In his younger days, he also served as the Director of the Nigerian Play House in Lagos at a time when stage drama was the vogue, long before the onset of the video industry.
The evidence of his artistic enterprise is to be seen in his output. By the last count, he had to his credit twelve acclaimed stage and television plays, amongst them: ‘You Can’t Take Your Wife to New York’, ‘One Stroke Of The Matchet’, ‘Omoro’, ‘The Family’, ‘Finest Hour’, and ‘Obigbo Connection’. Among the lot, his appearance in the ‘Inside-Out’ series kept me glued to the television set in the neighbourhood. I couldn’t stop watching him play his role alongside Douye Agama of the Gade Peterside fame, Bourdillon Efe, Adeola Onyedibia, and Barbara Soky, amongst others.
The first time I really interacted with Comish Ekiye was the day I visited him at his home in Ekeki, Yenagoa, and was surprised to see that the chairs in his seating room were the exact replica – in colour, texture and design – as the furniture in my own seating room. It was as if we had conspired in the spirit about our choice of furniture and gone to the same market.
Comish was looking pointedly at me, wondering what could be going through my mind. ‘Take a seat’, he said, waving me forward. I preferred to sit closer to him on the dining table. He was in white shorts and short-sleeve shirt. He was totally at home. ‘To what should I owe this august visit’, he asked with theatrical flourish. ‘Don’t tell me the Governor wants my attention’. We shared a laugh. At the time in question, I was serving as Speech Writer to Governor Goodluck Jonathan.
‘I came with something beyond the Governor’, I said. ‘Even the Governor cannot undertake this assignment’.
Comish raised an eyebrow, chuckled, and offered me some water. He was a man of few words for the simple reason that he valued his time. I took a sip of water, and began to tell him about the assignment.
Governor Goodluck Jonathan was set to preside over the second edition of the African Movie Academy Awards (AMAA), in Yenagoa. For Bayelsa to gain appreciable relevance in the art and culture fiesta, I had just been appointed Chairman of the King Koko Film Project, with the veteran broadcaster, Tony Binawari, as my Vice. The production would be powered by a young man whose vital energies were directed at that project as a life-time preoccupation. As someone with equal zest for the subject, I did not hesitate to identify with the film project. I felt we were set to fly. To get the film into proper focus, we needed a professional screen writer, a playwright of distinction, to put a credible script together, possibly something beyond Ola Rotimi’s play, Akassa Youmi.
Comish Ekiye was just right for the task. His pedigree was well established. He had been in the dark for too long anyway, and this film project would bring him into renewed focus. He thanked me for reaching out. He was glad, he said, to know that the Bayelsa State government would take interest and sponsor the King Koko film project. He agreed to write the script. By all accounts, he handed the only finished copy of the script to Henry Opuene, the prospective producer. Only God knows what Henry did with it. Only God knows where that play is. Whatever may be the case, that script was bound to have all the technical adroitness of a playwright worth his spill of ink.
Long before that, in the days when he was Director-General of the Bayelsa State Broadcasting Corporation, I had gone to his office with a polite knock on the door. Comish raised his head from the table, and received me with a rare smile. I was struck by the fact that his desk was bare, except for the single sheet of memo before him. He read through, signed it, and gave me his full attention. He was dressed in a white long-sleeve shirt, a black tie with a red emblem and clean collars holding the scruff of his neck intact, his eyes peering through the golden rim of his glasses.
I could not help but ask why there were no files, no in-and-out trays on both sides of his table. He said pointedly that, if the table was full of papers, it meant that he was not working at all. He would be guilty of dereliction of duty. Anyone claiming to be at work should not have files littering their table. For many civil servants, a lot of files on the table meant the worker was busy. For Comish Ekiye, it meant the fellow was idle. He was not doing his work with despatch. He was simply a hypocrite pretending to work when, in fact, he was just waiting for his next meal in the office.
A clean table is an indication of a hardworking man. To have files clutter your desk is a pointer to a man overwhelmed by his labour. Real work means getting every file out of the way as fast as they come, and keep the desk as free as can be. I took that lesson with me. I still do my best to clear my table just as Comish Ekiye taught me.
The very last time I met him, I felt bad to know that he had lost his sight and was merely groping his way forward. For a writer, that must be a heavy blow to cope with. He could only recognize me by my voice. He said whenever he heard me taking the news on Radio Bayelsa, he told his people to turn up the volume. I was flattered to actually hear him call me Pope Pen.
ANA Bayelsa was paying him a visit that day, facilitated by his long-standing friend, a civil engineer with a penchant for crossword puzzles, riddles, and acrostic adventures. Under his tenure as Chairman of ANA Bayelsa, Emmanuel Frank-Opigo had taken it upon himself to pull Comish into the fold of writers. How come a playwright of such high standing was not a member of ANA Bayelsa? Comish graciously attended a meeting or two, and his presence brought appropriate weight to the Association.
Even more salutary was the news that Barclays Ayakoroma, a professor of drama and theatre, a foremost playwright from Bayelsa and first Vice Chairman of the writer’s body, had equally taken it upon himself to publish plays written by Comish Ekiye that were yet to see the light of day. Thankfully, today we can hold scripts the man left in his drawer, unknown to the world till they began to appear between book covers. The credit goes to Opigo and Ayakoroma. I can only hope that Ekiye’s script on King Koko will be discovered in like manner, to enrich the literature on the king who staged the first confrontation against the encroaching traders from across the Atlantic, and recorded what the history books refer to as the Akassa Raid of 29 January, 1895.
I could not get close enough to Comish Ekiye. But I’m grateful that I’m closer to his immediate younger brother, Braeyi, who may well be the number one fan of Comish. Braeyi took to the media precisely because he saw his elder brother there. But the loss of Comish Ekiye goes beyond the family. It affects the Nigerian art community in entirety. A first generation dramatist is gone the way of all flesh. He was a father figure, a thespian of distinctive proportions, a man who set high professional standards for his peers, and for those coming behind. He will be remembered for the stories he enacted with nobility, the work he did with humility of spirit, and the awareness that came with him in simple terms. He will surely be missed for the work he left unfinished.
