A Requiem For Austyn Njoku ‘The Muse-Crafts-Man’

 By Angus Obinna Chukwuka

Monday Michael it was who broke the sad news to me. It was Saturday 7pm. As my phone rang, pleasant expectancy flooded my heart as I noticed it was Monday Michael’s number. But that expectancy was completely dashed if ever it was pleasant. Have you heard Austyn is dead? He asked. Cold shivers of disbelief and horror took hold of me. Confusion followed “which Austyn?” I asked. “Austyn Njoku,” he repeated. He told me of how he had just returned from Odia Ofeinun’s mum’s burial in Edo State and how Chux Ohai, another friend of mine informed him of the death. I went quiet for perhaps three minutes after which I hung up the phone.

Austyn Njoku

 Monday Michael was a mutual friend of Austyn Njoku and mine. Like the late Austyn, he was an active member of the Association of Nigeria Authors (ANA). Together with Chux Ohai, and David Daia, we all belong to the Association of Nigeria Authors, though operating from different chapters/states. ANA’s AGM or annual conference (of the national body) held rotationally in the different states of the nation was one of the various fora through which we all related and corporate from time to time.

 It was in one of the national conferences particularly the one held in Port Harcourt, Rivers State around 1992 that I first met Austyn Njoku. And since then he had remained a great friend. I cherished calling him to know what’s up in Lagos ANA, how he was coping with his writings generally. Austyn ever full of life always laughed or hailed me boisterously before giving me answers to my question. Austyn’s liveliness always gave me hope, that the economic reality may be harsh, and unbearable for many in Nigeria but that one can still be happy, and manage to keep afloat.

 Pertinently, I did not sleep well the night Michael broke the news to me. I lay on my bed wondering on the finality of death, hoping that it is untrue that Austyn was dead, and I would not see him again. But I am wrong and Austyn is dead. Austyn died following two weeks of sickness and hospitalization in a Lagos hospital. I read an article suggesting he died of malaria and typhoid. I have not confirmed the name of the sickness but my people say death must kill by a method, and it is immaterial by what method, it is death that kills every man. So death killed Austyn.

 Austyn hails from Ogwuokwu Nguru, Mbaise Local Government Area of Imo State. He was born to Mr. & Mrs. Njoku on 28^th August, 1965. His death is a sad reminder of the calamity that had earlier befallen his family. His mother, Ezinne Maria Luke Njoku Onyeoziri died at the age of 72 years. She passed-on on Monday 24^th March, 2014 after a protracted and complicated illness. Her burial on April 11, 2014 at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church, Ogbor Nguru, Mbaise, was the reason Austyn could not attend the presentation of my collection of poem “STANDING DIVIDED” in Port Harcourt, Rivers State on 13^th April, 2014. In Igbo land, it is preferable for a child to bury his/her parents and not the other way round but for Austyn to bury his 72 years old mother in April 11, 2014 and died on August 8, 2014 at the age of nearly 49 years is beyond me. It raises a question only God can answer.

 Austyn’s death happened amidst mournings. While I was preparing to travel to Edo State to pay the last respect to the late mother of ‘our own dear’ Odia Ofeimun in Edo State, a tragedy struck in my neighborhood in Port Harcourt, someone dear to my heart, and a church member gave up the Ghost, and I was to be directly and strenuously involved in the burial arrangement which must be commenced immediately. It was this situation that foisted on me the weighty inability to attend Odia Ofeimun’s late mother’s burial. With Austyn’s death occurring amidst preparation for these two burials, I have been saddled with a pain so greater I cannot explain it.

 To think of Austyn as dead is ridiculous. Forgive me. I know like all human’s he ought to die someday. But why so soon? Why twenty days before his 49^th birthday? Why through sickness? Why not while writing poems or rendering short stories which brought him to light? Why should he die when I needed him most? If you must know Austyn through his publishing outfit Jemie Associates published my collection of poems ‘Standing Divided’ in December 2013. Although my good and very intelligent friend, Blessed Mudiaga Adjekpagbon may not know it, I appreciated every bid of effort Austyn put in to make that publication a huge success. I believe Austyn published that work at huge personal sacrifice for which I may never be able to adequately compensate him. But I often told him how thorough he was in editing. That work stands out among my works as one with minimal synthetic/ grammatical or spelling errors. Austyn made sure he produced a work which I was always happy to read or behold, even as the author. Although I cannot substantiate this, I have the hunch that Standing Divided was the last poetry collection that Jemie Associates published before Austyn’s death. This is because he never mentioned of any new work he was planning to publish or which he actually published thereafter. However between both of us, I had agreed with him on something. The many poems which were supposed to be published within ‘Standing Divided’ collection but which could not make the collection would be collated and published under a new volume which I titled Tomorrow is an Egg. He said ok. I was arranging to mobilize him for commencement of publication before the cruel news hit me. If I had my way nobody should publish the work but Austyn vide his company, Jemie Associates. Yes Austyn was the CEO of Jemie books one of the consulting publishers to the Niger Writers Series (NWS) of the Association of Nigeria Authors. But this is not the reason I wanted Tomorrow is an Egg published by Austyn or his company. It is because Austyn had that personal touch. He cherished relationship and could sacrifice for a friend; including putting class and excellence upon a friend’s work. Besides he always took upon him the task of promoting or advertising works published by his company at minimal cost. Infact he had magnanimously contacted and engaged professional critics who reviewed Standing Divided. I was to support their efforts with tokens to facilitate the publication of the critiques. I planned to reach out to Austyn around Wednesday 13^th August, 2014 but on Saturday 11^th August, 2014 that painful call I picked and answered - now put me at the risk of never reading the critiques or their criticism. Adjekpagbon confirmed the death vide text message the next day Sunday 12^th August. If there was any doubt at all Denja Abdullahi cancelled it when he released the info on social media published August 11, 2014 that Austyn is dead. He said Austyn’s wife told him so on phone. I read Denja’s comment however around August 14, 2014.

Austyn’s death teaches me never to procrastinate anything you could do now to a later time. It teaches me that death mark is not on anybody’s face. Anybody may die at any time, even unannounced. It tells to me that the best brains are in the grave yard which is the richest bank.

 In short, Austyn’s death is a personal blow to me. It is also a huge loss to the body of writers in Nigeria and beyond. For shortly before his death, Austyn had develop a great following from International literary enthusiasts, publishers, writers and marketers who had identified him and had just started using him to reach out to, and project to the world Nigerian writers. What a great loss to Nigerian writers. We shall all die one day in any case. Austyn, you teach us in your death to be ready at all times. You authored 'I’ve been a Crew' (a collection of poems) but surely it is us who are now a crew, a crew of disenchanted, disappointed mourners. I call you the Muse-crafts-man for your great talent in poetry. Adieu, Austyn. Adieu.