FOR JAMES JORDAN DADING, AN UNFINISHED LIFE.

A Tribute to my intellectual friend!

There are some gems among us, and these reach for the stars even while the rest of us scramble for the crumbs. They are the ones who push the limits, they push the cut-off marks, and they push us to dream bigger. In the face of their dreams, we look like lilliputians. James was one of those gems!

He was brilliant through and through. While I stopped trying to become an expert on quantum mechanics, James kept digging. While I stopped trying to understand the universe of Michio Kaku, James knew it like the back of his hand. We both shared Michio Kaku’s books as far back as 2019, but I have not completed a single page. James has read everything!

He loved physics, mathematics, history, and science. The biographies of Charles Darwin, Isaac Newton, and Gregor Mendel were staples that James could reel off within seconds. Wake James from sleep and ask him to tell you the details of Stephen Hawking's life; he would do so without any reference material. He was an eccentric genius. He ate maths for breakfast, physics for lunch, science for dinner, and history as dessert. He loved poetry.

He was young, full of life and big dreams. If James had failed in life, he would have become a big professor whose classes attracted thousands of students. That’s the worst I think James could ever become. Yeah. For he knew so much and had the hard work, the grit, and the skills to make it possible. The kind of nerd he was was the kind who didn’t give zilch about anything else. When young people adopt nicknames, they adopt names that made them cool and nice, but James adopted “The calculuscism”, it tells you everything about how he saw himself and the world. He didn’t give a damn. 

It was books and God for James. Nothing else. No in-between. He lived for these. Or rather, these lived for him.

As I look back, he was the one who held our friendship by the ropes. He made all the effort; he did all the checking in. I got too used to it. And he never bothered about it. He was the older one. He was too kind.

I and James argued about so many things. We discussed so many ideas. I never told him he was the smarter one. How could I? We were supposed to argue for forever. This dance was supposed to go on for a long time. It was supposed to end when we were too old to argue again. 

When they say to give people their flowers when they are alive, I knew it was true, but there is also something else that is true: flowers are more useful after one has finished taking action and is resting or trying to build a garden. When you give folks their flowers in their 20s, 30s, what are you going to do when you are 70? The unconscious agreement was that none of these would be done now. We could keep fighting in the ring, we could keep refining our ideas, and we could keep trying to make the world a better place- the time for flowers will come later. 

Now, I am doomed! I will never be able to give James his flowers again. I will not be able to tell James he was the smarter one. One of those perennial, endless, senseless attacks happened again. 2 nights ago, gunmen attacked James at his school, Plateau State University, Bokkos, and he and two others were killed instantly. By the next morning, news of his death spread on social media. I kept getting info that James was killed, but I didn't want to believe it. His Facebook profile was still reading “Online”. I hoped that somehow he would debunk the rumours in one of those of his long, big grammar writings. I hate viewing violent images, I block people who share them. Yesterday, I was scrambling for all the violent images I could find. I opened each and every one of them, I wanted to confirm that none of them was James. I could see James. But my heart would not accept. That cannot be my James. I waited for someone else to say that it was not James; it was some other person. No one came out to do this. 

It was my James. James was dead. He has become another victim of Nigeria. People say some men died unsung. James was unlived. He had not even started yet. It was just day 1. His was an unfinished life. 

James could have become so many incredible things. He was destined for greatness. Nothing could have stopped him. Nothing. 

I try to wander about his last moments; what was he doing? Did he try to preach to his killers as they attacked him? Did he try to beg them? Did he pray for them? Did he fight back? What were his last words? Could they not see that this one was marked for big things? Could they not see that this fighter and builder could have built or at least contributed to building a Nigeria that would be equitable for all of us? Could they not see that this man could give their kids education? 

Damn me. I am undone. The death of James is like the hammer of Thor. It has pieced me into many parts. Nothing can console me. 

I was told that when the Dean of Students Affairs saw his corpse, he broke down in tears. James was one of their best students. He had aced A’s in his last semester results, like the real genius that he was. How can he get less? 

If James is dead, then I know where he has gone. He is walking in that celestial city now. He is sitting with CS Lewis, RR Tolkien, Malcolm Muggeridge, Timothy Keller, and all the greats. He would be in that city where all the great minds of Christendom live. I will see him again. I have to! 

Dear James, they’ve buried you. I couldn’t even attend. I understand why your parents had to do this; what else could they have done? Now you are gone. The world will not see your greatness. Nigeria will not experience the gift of your genius. Your killers have made the world a little worse. I don’t promise to make it any better. All I will do is keep your memory here. THERE WAS JAMES, HE WAS AN ECCENTRIC GENIUS, HE LOVED GOD, HE LOVED PEOPLE, HE LOVED SHARING KNOWLEDGE, AND HE WAS MY FRIEND. I will tell them this every year! I know I made a mistake somewhere in there; please come back and correct me. Come back so I can teach you how to snap better photos; you were a terrible photographer, bro. I was supposed to tell you long ago, but I couldn’t. You’ve left me with terrible photos of you. Come, I will teach you, bro. I have a certification in photography and videography. I will be waiting for you. Or.. I hate that you are waiting for me! I will see you again. You, my friend, were a good man! A very good man. I will see you again!