By Robert Nii Arday Clegg Dada, a little over two months after we laid you to rest I am finally coming to terms with the hard fact. My father is gone! Gone forever!! Diurnal reminders of you fill my waking moments and occasional dreams about you visit my nights. These episodes flood my memory with the principles you stood for, illuminate in my mind the unalloyed professional you were and challenge me to be as a good a father as you were. I do not need to rack my brain to call up memories of you. No one would, if they had a father with the strong personality you had, your booming voice, your towering frame, your athletic proclivities, your voracious reading habits, your uniquely artistic writing skills, your fearless disposition, your insistence on scholarship, your work ethos and ethic, your physical strength, your grit and your sense of independence. I do not know how old I was when you would carry me in your arms and your prickly facial hairs would brush against my face whenever you gave me a kiss on the cheek; when you would sit for hours ingesting pages from Reader’s Digest, West Africa Magazine, World Almanac, Time and Newsweek magazines as well as very voluminous books; when you would go to work especially at the then Graphic Corporation everyday of your life, for years without taking a leave of absence. I could probably guess how old I was when you stepped out that early dawn against all caution, hockey-stick-in-hand and returned moments later with a subdued robber in tow; when with a machete-in-hand assisted by a leafy-scared neighbour, you managed to prevent about five machete-wielding robbers from entering our home; when in your forties you outsprinted everyone many of them much younger than yourself one Saturday morning at the Dansoman Keep Fit Club; when in your fifties you carried me up a long flight of stairs at your back because I was ill and could not walk; when in your sixties you went to the hide-out of a reputed hardened criminal and retrieved your mobile phone which had been stolen from you in a taxi. You protected your children with your life. No one dared to harass us. They knew as well as we did what fate would befall them if they maltreated us. That was the reason why when a teacher at my preparatory school without any provocation whatsoever whipped me and left cane-marks all over my body, mother (Aunty Christie) and I kept it away from you. She took me to school the following morning to report the matter to the headmaster. As it turned out your reputation had spread quite far. The headmaster thanked mother and I for not telling you about this unjust act and promptly dismissed the teacher. We never told you about this. We saved that teacher’s skin. You got me reading newspapers at age seven and my teachers were always surprised at how well-informed I was. I remember how you would ask me to listen to news bulletins especially about an editorial you had written in the Daily Graphic and report to you how it had been presented on radio. I remember the first novels you bought for Joel Nathan Owuraku Clegg my brother and I; junior publications of Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe and Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens. You would edit my essays and introduce me to new words. You would openly praise my written work and I cannot fail to mention that occasion when we argued over the use of a certain word. You encouraged me to write short stories for The Mirror and later articles for the Daily Graphic. You gave me the registration fees for my Ordinary Level (O’ Level) examinations exactly one year ahead of time and forgot all about it. When the time came, you were preparing to pay when I reminded you that you had already given me the money. You were full of praise for my truthfulness. A chip off the old block, I would say for I must have inherited that trait from you. You walked the streets of Accra with me in search of textbooks. If we did not find any or were asked to come back another day, even if I had already left for school, you would go back without fail and bring the books to me in school. You registered me for vacation classes in my school, Achimota School, throughout my seven years of education there and whenever you could, you drove me there personally. When it appeared I had a weakness in Mathematics, you found me a private teacher. When I finished writing the O’ Level Mathematics paper, I was shocked to find you parked outside. You only agreed to leave after I had assured you I would pass the paper, and I did at one attempt. When our O’ Level results were published you took me to Dynasty Chinese Restaurant to celebrate my excellent results. Although you did not have a car when our Advanced Level (A’ Level) examinations results were published, you went all the way to the school with me to check the results. You were elated that I had qualified for admission to the university. Today, it is clear to me that you were teaching me the ropes, guiding me along the learning curve of life and helping me to hone my skills for the tasks of higher learning and professional life ahead. You succeeded. I won the Ayi Kwei Armah Prize for Prose (A’Level Literature-in-English), got a first class honours degree in Political Science with Philosophy, graduated top of my law class (LLB) and won four prizes at the Ghana School of Law. I dedicate all of these achievements to your memory and efforts. Your sporting prowess, evidenced by the medals and certificates, some of which I have in my possession, encouraged me to play sports too. I never managed to be half the sprinter you were for as you watched on, I failed to cross the finish line in the 200 metres final I qualified for, even if I won a gold medal in the 4x100 event in your absence. I never got the hang of your favourite cricket (I found your President’s Cup medal from the 1960s) but even you admit after watching me play that I am a better hockey player than you were. Joel took the football part. I am quite a boxing aficionado because you ignited my interest in it. You took me to see fights at the Holy Gardens and the Accra Sports Stadium. I watched Ike “Bazooka” Quartey, Alfred Kotey and Nana Yaw Konadu way before they became world champions. I was disappointed that you did not take me to see Azumah Nelson successfully defend his title against Sidney Dal Roverre at the Accra Sports Stadium. You soon placated me by providing the video clip of that fight and many others involving Azumah, Mike Tyson and Muhammed Ali. I still have a difficulty understanding why on your return from your numerous foreign trips, your suitcases would be filled with goodies for Joel and I and almost nothing for yourself. You gave selflessness a new meaning. I also think you worked too hard especially on the Daily Graphic during the revolutionary days. I remember the health complications you suffered as a result. Yet, you had nothing to show for it. One high-ranking official at the Daily Graphic said to me after your demise, “We [Graphic] did not treat him well at all”. I know you had worked there from 1966 to 1970 but left to pursue other interests especially in public relations. I know you went back in April 1981 in the belief that being the unapologetic Nkrumahist that you were, it was as an opportunity to help the cause of the Limann regime. Do not be sad about the treatment you received because at the end of it all your name is etched in gold among the upper echelons of Ghana’s best and most prominent journalists of all time. That is the reason the radio and television stations run your funeral announcements for free. Another senior person at Graphic said he would always remember you for never touching money that was not yours; you did not even take loans from the company. This trait must be the reason why try as a media house did to sully your name with financial malfeasance during your stint at the Ghana News Agency, it failed. You were an honest man. The hip replacement surgery you underwent in 2006 appeared to have taken all of life’s verve out of you. I remember how we went from the 37 Military Hospital to Korle-Bu Teaching Hospital and a private clinic for x-rays and consultations. I know how it broke your heart that you could not be present on the occasion of my call to the Ghana Bar. You could not bring yourself to accept help up the stairs and you bemoaned your unsteady gait. Despite these, you still managed to single-handedly pummel into submission a thief who broke into your room at dawn. You managed to visit my son, your grandson, David Nii Mantse Owuraku Clegg, twice when he was a few weeks old and to hold him in your arms before your final exit. You called me on the phone so often that you would ask if you were being a nuisance and I would assure you you were not. You would always say, “Thank God for Jesus” to express happiness and would always start and end conversations by screaming, “Yehowa”. I still have a mental picture of your beaming smile when your attention was drawn to the front page of the Mirror one Saturday morning. Mabel Afua Yaba Clegg (Mimi) my wife and I were on the cover. You got so many copies of the paper I was left wondering what you planned to do with them. I named my law firm “Clegg & Associates” in honour of you, to keep the name alive. You came to my old office location at Ridge and I could tell how proud you were of me. Unfortunately, you did not wait to see my new location at Osu. I will put up your picture on my wall to remind me of your contribution to what I have become and will become. Since you have been gone, I have interviewed President Sam Nujoma, President Kufuor, Tsatsu Tsikata and other prominent personalities on the PM Express, a new programme I present on Multi-TV. I feel your absence now more than ever because you would have had great feed-back for me after each and every edition. When I go quoting Greek and Latin expressions on the programme, I will remember you laid the foundation for that in me. I will be guided by your advice to go ahead and attain greatness in the face of all opposition because not everyone is happy to see a person excel. I have made that observation for myself. I am happy to say that there are still good people who wish for great things for others. Anas Aremeyaw Anas, the investigative journalist par excellence is one of such. He gives me reason to shine and fillips me on with his generous spirit. Although you are on the other side of the Rubicon, I know you will join me in eternal gratitude to Mr. Amarkai Amarteifio and Dr. Charles Mensa for their acts of kindness in the past. Chris and Gifty Wilmot, Theophidack Kofi Nti and Edward Kwadwo Oppong (K Pon) also deserve special mention. You interacted with my friends, Yaw Tuffour Kwakye, Kwesi Hayfron-Benjamin, Benjamin Kwesi Sackey and others as though they were your own friends and classmates. One of them Dr. Sodzi Sodzi-Tettey wrote a masterpiece of a tribute for you days after your final bow. I am trying to be half as organized as you. You made the writing of your biography very easy. You had placed 4 different copies of your curriculum vitae in places you were sure we would find them. I even found my terminal reports from class 1. You were always on time. Maybe one day I will be as good a writer as you were. Dada, may you find eternal favour with your Maker. You were a good man and by the testimonies I have heard you helped a lot of people in diverse ways. You were also an extraordinary father. I say, “Yehowa, thank God for Jesus”!!! Rest in Perfect Peace.