I was recently informed that my childhood best friend died. Uche passed on, and the grief hit in ways that were quite unpredictable. The only way I could make sense of the grief was to reach into my collection of memories and write.
I have not written in quite a while, but as one story was completed, another one started. As the dominoes fell, my mind journeyed from Ibadan to Lagos and then to North America. I opened up old emails and WhatsApp messages that had been exchanged, and I did some cross-referencing with friends and family members so I could be sure of the accuracy of my memories.
I have used the memories in my mind to grapple with the legacy that we had and shared.
These memories have helped in providing answers to many questions that were on my mind
How did we get to where we are?
What happened before we became grown?
What will kids remember about their parents?
What would happen if our stories are not told?
I have no answers, but I will do my part in helping our stories come alive.
–Oluwole Leigh (2025)
2015
Nov 2015
Uche’s cousin (Ope) worked in a company that shared the same building as mine. It made things a lot easier for him. He would come to hang out at my workplace in the evening and then go back with Ope. Getting him out of security was often the hard part. Uche would sometimes turn up in jeans shorts and worn tennis shoes. It was only when he had a meeting with someone important that he would slap a jacket on. His choice of apparel often created a complexity with building security whenever Uche showed up. The complexities often heightened once Uche spoke with his “Oyinbo accent”. The traditional image of an American returnee was that of someone who looked and dressed like (s)he had “made it”. If there was anything that was certain, Uche didn’t get the memo on “How to look like a successful returnee”. He didn’t care. He was in his father’s land, and he would walk barefoot and bare-chested if he wanted to.
Read More
During one of these hangout sessions in my workplace, I informed him that I would be going to do some work in a neighbouring country, Cameroon. He also mentioned travelling to Côte d’Ivoire for the weekend. I finished the project in Cameroon on Saturday night and then took a flight from Douala to Lagos on Sunday. While the upper part of the ticket showed Douala and Lagos, I didn’t realise there was a stopover. The Airk Air pilot announced a stopover in the Benin Republic to pick up other passengers who were bound for Lagos.
As the aircraft doors opened, passengers filed in. To my surprise, I saw Uche walk down the aircraft aisle in his traditional casual attire. We smiled on seeing ourselves as we discussed the irony of meeting again on “international” grounds. The aeroplane took off and we flew between Cotonou and Lagos on what was probably the shortest flight of our lives. When we got to Lagos, Uche found out that his phone battery was dead, so I called an Uber to get him home.
2016
Sep 2016
I had spent about 2 months in Florida, but decided to visit Uche for a few days before heading back to Nigeria. Thinking about the dollar to naira exchange rate of 1 to 350 at the time almost made me put away the idea of making the trip. With a little bit of psychological support from my wife, I bought the ticket and flew into La Guardia airport.
I got to Uche’s house on a Sunday evening, and then he suggested that we go get some Nigerian food. We drove with Kayin and headed to a Nigerian restaurant in Brooklyn. There seemed to be a whole world of difference between Kayin in 2015 and Kayin in 2016.
Read More
Uche had obviously been force-feeding him a diet of Nigerian culture. I smiled as he sang along to the Nigerian songs that Uche played in a manner that was an aftereffect of rote memorisation. Kayin knew the words but was still on the journey to getting to know the spirit behind the words. I recognised what Uche was doing because it was just a repetition of what was done to us in our formative years – learning bible passages by heart, learning songs by heart, learning musical chord progressions by heart, rinse and repeat.
That style of learning was based on – do first and then think later. While our parents, who had adopted Westernised ideals of speaking “proper language”, would have never allowed us to speak in Pidgin English, the irony was not lost on me that we were using Pidgin English as a means of transmitting culture to the next generation.
Most of the time, parenting experts would recommend that parents allow their kids to grow up and then find their way back to their culture if they choose to. Uche left nothing to chance. His mission seemed to be – I will make them Nigerians, let them find their way out of it if they can.
Sep 2016
The next day was Monday, September 26. It happened to be the date of the New York presidential debate between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. I had suggested some other place, but Uche’s friends were hosting a debate viewing party at a nearby restaurant. Just as the afternoon came by, Uche mentioned that we had to take his second son (Uchechi) for football (soccer) practice. This appeared to be another venture in Uche’s “Nigerianization” of the kids.
I do not exactly remember where we went to but I remember that we hopped on a few trains, got off, walked past some alleys and were then welcomed into a field with a thousand shrieking kids. Uchechi was in no mood for practice that day and made it known on his face and with his folded arms.
Read More
He kept the scowl up as Uche tried to let him know that he was expected to join the field. We got to the field and I didn’t understand if Uche Sr. or Jr was the one attending the practice. Uche spent half of the time analysing positions, tactics, speaking with coaches and other parents till the time lapsed, while Uchechi stood on one side of the field with his arms still folded. At no time did Uche raise his voice. He continued to speak firmly and compassionately to the little one, even though it had little effect.
This was apparently Uche’s remix of Nigerianization, since my own version was already wondering why we came the whole distance without achieving our primary aim.
Sep 2016
After dropping off Uchechi at home, we set off for the debate viewing party, which was just a few blocks away. The event was hosted by an organisation called “Harlem Public Square” at a black-owned restaurant named “Angel of Harlem. Uche introduced me to the mostly African-American audience as a Nigerian. He said it in a way that seemed to give off vibes like – He’s the real deal, from the motherland, he’s what you all wish you were.
I surveyed the audience of mostly black folks as Uche navigated his way around the room. I found it quite interesting that he had been able to meet and build a network of people who seemed to know him in just a few years in New York. I found the ease with which people seemed to know or remember him to be admirable. Uche had a network of school friends from his college days and another network of friends in Philly. His network in Lagos was made up of childhood friends and family members whom he had reconnected with.
Read More
His connections were not forced. He just knew how to do it better than most. It was remarkable that he made his connections the hard way – face to face, text messages and WhatsApp. He didn’t have a social media account with which he made friends. Uche was a real Luddite when it came to online communication.
There was a brief introduction by the host, and then the debate watch started. This was the first of the Trump vs Democrat debates that were held, and it was where he laid the foundation for his style of debating, which he continued to use over the next decade.
I have to admit that some folks at the event thought that what he was saying was just entertainment until history proved otherwise. At the end of the debate, we greeted Uche’s friends and made our way home. I thought we were done for the night until Uche suggested another long walk through Harlem. It reminded me of the emergency history walk we had 2 years before in Philly. The difference was that this was more leisurely, and the weather was a lot better. We walked and talked through the night as we connected one Harlem street to another.
It was no surprise when I woke up late the next morning and missed the flight back to Florida.
2025
May 2025
After the shocking phone call that I received on May 19, 2025, about Uche’s passing, I stumbled around not knowing what to do or how to process the ensuing grief. It was a few days before my birthday, and I quickly realised that this was going to be a different type of new year ahead of me. After getting in touch with Uche’s siblings, I somehow prayed that the final ceremonies would be held during the weekend of my birthday. I concluded that my 45th birthday was probably already going to be depressing, so it made sense to go through the ceremonies on that weekend.
Realistically, putting together such an event was going to need more time, so I wasn’t surprised when Ope informed me that Uche’s final events were going to be spread across May 29 and 30 in New York. The extra complication was that the choice of dates was not exactly favourable to my schedule. The kids were off to camp from Friday, 30th to Sunday, 1st, and their attendance was dependent on my presence at the camp as a volunteer. How do you make this happen? I decided to take it one step at a time- New York first, and then other things would fall into place.
My presence in New York was going to help make sense of the loss of my childhood best friend. Apart from my personal loss, I realised this moment was also about legacy. Our families had been privileged to be well acquainted over the years, and our parents had worked tirelessly in the service of God and mankind. I was representing all those whom we had known over the years who could not be there.
I got into New York on the afternoon of May 29 and eventually made my way to the funeral home for the wake. On getting in I saw Sheinelle, whom I had not seen since 2015, Olisa and Ada (Uche’s siblings), whom I had not seen since 1993. Right in the front of the room in the funeral home lay the brown, wooden enclosure that held Uche’s mortal remains. At that moment, I thought of the distant past and all the years that had gone by. In 1980, my dad would most likely have been present at Uche’s naming ceremony. In 2007, my dad was at Uche’s wedding. Here I was in 2025 at Uche’s passing. The room was filled with the Ojehs, Osisanyas, members of Sheinelle’s family and friends from all over the world.
Read More
I sat with Mrs Ojeh and we shared stories of Uche’s life. She told me about his dislike for pictures, and I told her that I had a picture of him hiding his face from the camera. I told Mrs Ojeh that I had read all the stories online since his passing, and I told her boldly,”Aunty, Uche’s life did not start in 2007. He lived a whole life before he stepped on these shores.“
The wake was also an opportunity to connect with Emeka, whom I had not seen in 32 years. A lot of emotions were expressed as we realised how we had been apart, and it had taken Uche’s passing to put us in the same room. Clement Ojeh (Uche’s dad) was surrounded by family and other priests of the Anglican communion who came to show him support. What I saw in their faces was a faith that withstood the trials and tribulations of the previous years and did not give up hope in the midst of hopelessness.
At around 7 pm, we made our way out of the venue, and as I walked to the subway, I stumbled on an art show with a display of drawings and sculptures of West African origin. I asked myself – What would Uche do? The answer was obvious – I stepped into the show for a few minutes, took a good look at the art that was on offer and then made my way into the night.
May 2025
As I sat with other members of the Ojeh family in Riverside Church beside Eric Grillo (schoolmate and OBC member) , I looked up at the high roofs, hanging chandeliers and stained glass. It reminded me of the many churches and cathedrals that Uche and I had spent our childhood in. Wherever a church was, we were not far away. Sitting on the wooden pews and listening to the pipe organs made the weight of the occasion dwell on my mind.
Each song told a different part of Uche’s story. The first song was a rendition of Nat King Cole’s – Nature Boy which was performed at Uche and Sheinelle’s wedding. It said – “the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return” . Maverick City’s Firm Foundation” spoke to Uche’s foundational Christian experience and how God had always been there for him. It was a solid affirmation of the role of divinity in our human experience. Kirk Franklin’s “Imagine Me” really moved me as the piano intro started off. While the original song spoke about letting go of hurt and emotional pain, my mind went to what Uche must have passed through in the last few months of his life. The words – “Imagine me being free” ,………… All my scars (it’s gone), All my pain (all gone), It’s in the past (gone) brought me to tears.
Read More
Shortly after, Maverick City’s Jireh brought the words – “I will be content in every circumstance , Jireh you are enough” to the fore. This was followed by a musical performance of a band where Kayin played the bass. Seeing Kayin on the bass guitar was a bittersweet moment because I totally understood all the hard work that led him to that stage. The musical part of the legacy that had been handed to us mattered deeply more than most things. When I put together a musical recording for my dad’s birthday featuring my kids, my brother and myself, I sent Uche the video because I knew he would understand all the unseen work that had happened over the years with the kids. One of the songs that the kids played was referred to as the Egba Anthem.
Furthermore, I mentioned to him that it was composed by Fela’s grandfather, Canon J.J. Ransome Kuti. The reason why I gave him the historical background was because I knew he would equally love that part of the story as much as he would love the music. At the celebration of life, the realisation that Kayin was fulfilling his own part of the legacy in spite of his dad’s departure filled my heart with joy.
The last song to be performed by Uche’s church choir was Richard Smallwood’s “Total Praise”. In spite of the fact that this song is a favourite staple at African American funerals, the lyrics hit like they were brand new – You are the source of my strength …..I lift my hands in Total praise to you
By the time the choir got to “Amen”, most people were up on their feet in Unison.
As we gathered outside the auditorium after the service, the lyrics of “Total Praise” were all that kept playing in my mind. We exchanged warm hugs and condolences before family members departed to lay Uche’s body to rest.
Lord, I will lift my eyes to the hills
Knowing my help is coming from You
Your peace You give me in time of the storm
You are the source of my strength
You are the strength of my life
I lift my hands in total praise to You
TRIBUTE
Rest in Peace, Uche Adenola Ojeh. I am thankful to God for the opportunity of knowing you.
Written to honour the memories of Uche Ojeh, Seun Olubowale, Bayo Abimbola, Nonso Onyeabo and all others who journeyed on that road.
May your families find comfort.
