Remembering September 26th, 2024: Day our Sun vanished at noon

Emmanuel Nicholas

As night descended, a gentle dew began to settle, accompanied by a soft breeze flowing from the north to the south.

In her moment of comfort, however, storms arose, sweeping through like tornadoes from the farthest reaches of the north, stripping away the pride of women in their wake.

The once radiant light faded into darkness, and the once-vibrant palace fell into a profound silence.

Each man retreated to his tent, and tears streamed down faces like a never-ending fountain, flowing continuously like water from an open tap.

The entire state of Akwa Ibom was thrown into chaos, and an incredible tale unfolded—one that echoed ancient adages.

For many, it seemed like mere coincidence, but as the clock struck midnight, the news that spread across mass media turned into an undeniable reality.

It was at this hour when some were still awake while others were lost in slumber, that the story of a devastating loss emerged.

I recall a woman who, in a dream, had foreseen the funeral that was later announced on the radio.

She awoke to the harsh truth of the passing of a remarkable figure, Her Excellency, Pastor (Mrs.) Patience Umo Eno, a great Amazon.

I remember her as a prudent altar with sweet incense, which gave birth to a golden era.

I can still picture how she humorously described her husband’s skin colour as golden, a depiction that baffled his opponents and ultimately solidified her legacy.

In the wee hours of the morning, the women, in their haste to reach the hilltop mansion, neglected their makeup, their fears propelling them forward.

Yet, to their astonishment, the bright midday sun had inexplicably vanished, casting an unexpected gloom over the scene.

In a sudden turn of events, the ground beneath them became treacherously slick, as tears from countless grieving eyes transformed into a flowing stream, reflecting the desperate edge of her once-promising glory.

At that moment, it felt as if her very breath had been relinquished to the distant city of Rome.

Amidst the chaos, no one found solace in one another; it was Thursday, the 26th of September, 2024, a day marked by profound loss.

The metaphorical camel’s back had finally broken under the weight of despair, the mighty lion king had tragically lost his throne, and an insidious spell of malevolence hung heavy in the air.

Everyone was engulfed in a state of Camatius, a deep malaise where women either hurried or limped in their distress, while the young men, still holding onto their vitality, remained hydrated but bewildered.

The elderly, once pillars of strength, found their energy waning. All around, disbelief reigned as the unfolding events seemed so horrific that they could scarcely be believed, leaving everyone to wonder if this tale was merely a fabrication because it was too dreadful to be true.

The radio stations refused to report the news, as broadcasters hesitated to air it, feeling the weight of its truth was too heavy to bear.

Fearing the spread of misinformation, they chose silence, waiting for the family to speak.

The venerable rolled on the floor, wailing for their champion, a pillar who tirelessly defended the marginalized, uplifted the downtrodden, and served as a steadfast advocate for justice.

The kings of the land cast aside their royal crowns, exposing their bald heads to the harsh irony of life and death.

“Our mother is gone,” one of them jeered, “we stand here like wounded prey, helpless against this relentless force.”

Across the land, every heart was heavy with grief; even sworn enemies found themselves united in sympathy.

The wise were left bewildered, akin to hungry lepers, but all lamentation was in vain, for death had come with a knife, slaughtering their Amazon.

She was a woman of valour, a steadfast support behind the successes of Governor Umo Eno.

For 38 years, they weathered life’s storms together, sharing the joys of their victories, yet death cruelly disregarded the sanctity of their love.

The sweetness that had once graced the lips of the orphans was now gone. Their stomachs, once filled, became empty chasms as the mother who quenched their thirst, fed their hunger, and offered wisdom was cruelly taken from them by the hand of death.

Amid the turmoil, the oppressed cried while the wealthy lamented in their palaces, yet nothing could alter the tragic news of Pastor Patience Umo Eno’s passing.

Handkerchiefs and dark sunglasses masked many emotions, but the sorrow was evident in the expressions of those mourning her loss.

If it were possible to restore life, the people of Akwa Ibom would have eagerly brought Mrs. Umo Eno back. They would have paid any price to reclaim her breath.

Mma Governor is gone, and on September 26th. We reject this sorrowful chapter from our history, banishing such cruel fantasies. How cruel this day has been!

Yet, amidst our grief, we must not surrender to despair. Though we mourn her absence, we take comfort in knowing she now walks among the angels, her spirit free in the vastness of heaven.

She has been welcomed into the arms of the Divine, where there is no pain or sorrow, only the glorious light of eternal life.

Let us find solace in our cherished memories and the promise of reunion in heaven’s eternal embrace.

As the Psalmist says, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.” We should honor Her Excellency, Pastor Mrs. Patience, not with tears of sadness, but with hearts filled with gratitude for the time we shared and the love she gave us.

As we say our goodbyes on the 29th of November 2024, let us remember: she is in heaven, where her spirit dances in the light of God’s everlasting grace.