The formal announcement usually sounds like this: death has occurred of so and so. It is a plain, cold and impersonal statement. The more spiritually inclined make the announcement a little differently. So and so has gone to his maker, they say. It sounds somewhat reassuring but also a bit eerie. In Kinyarwanda, we have a variant of this. So and so has answered God’s summons. That too sounds all pious and respectful, but also scary and perhaps conceals a feeling of unease. Whichever way death is announced, it signals a finality, cessation of life, and departure from this world with no chance of return. Perhaps only as a spirit. This is probably the reason for fear and unease and bringing in the creator for reassurance. Now, the summons, they are not a call for a friendly chat. You are usually summoned to a person or institution that has authority over you to answer charges for your acts of commission or omission. If you are lucky, you may get a dressing down only. Very often, you will get punishment for your transgressions. Not surprisingly, few answer any summons with any amount of eagerness; actually with trepidation. Most will delay the time of reckoning for as long as they can. They will create all manner of excuses. Some might have to be threatened with severe sanctions or be dragged before they can move. Eventually they answer the summons. On Saturday, December 2, we heard that Faustin Twagiramungu had answered God’s summons and gone to his creator. It is safe to assume that he, like most people, was not overly keen to answer the summons, and when he did, went in characteristic fashion: protesting his innocence and the unfairness of the summons, or complaining about why he is being called alone and so and so left behind. We can even imagine him telling the bearer of the summons, “uzi ko usetsa” (you are such a joker), and adding that it must be a case of mistaken identity or a plot by some horrible cockroaches to see him go. Ex-premier Twagiramungu has gone. He will be missed and mourned; everyone is, no matter their record on earth. He will certainly be eulogised. Everyone is, with their passing. They will say all the nice things, in a reversal of Mark Antony’s famous lines. So it will be “the good that men do lives after them, the evil is oft interred with their bones. So let it be with Twagiramungu”. I am not sure, though, that eulogies, however eloquent and moving can alter one’s record or portray them in different light. We may do this to ease our conscience and hope it also cleanses the soul of the departed. But we cannot fool the creator. Nor Twagiramungu, I think. He would be the first to protest the untruth of whatever is being said about him. He had his faults, but denouncing his beliefs or disguising them in more acceptable garb was not one of them. He remained true to his ideological roots. He wore his stripes so proudly that when some sought to paint him in different colours of a convert to the indivisibility of the Rwandan nation, he was quick to disabuse them of the crazy notion. Proof, if any were needed, of the wisdom of the old proverbs: you cannot teach an old dog new tricks or the leopard cannot change its spots. Anyway, he will be eulogised. His admirers will say he was such a colossus and has left a gap too big to fill. But we know somebody will be scheming to fill it or will have done so already. Nonsense, some will think. He was a puny little man with petty ideas, but they will not say that. Nothing ill will be said of him. We do not speak ill of the dead. It is bad manners and there are probably good reasons for it. Even with advances in science and technology and our profession of enlightenment, deep down we are superstitious. We are still afraid of spirits, especially the malevolent sort, of horrible people when they lived on earth. So better not to say anything that will earn you their wrath. But we should not be worried. Over the years, we have developed ways of dealing with spirits, good or evil. We exorcise them or placate them. We ignore them or call their bluff. After all, what can they do that their earthly, bodily selves could not do when they were still with us? Another reason we do not speak ill of the dead is common decency. The dead cannot respond to accusations. It is only fair not to make them. However, presumably, they smile at the nice things we say. The departed are always sorely missed. Twagiramungu will be no exception. Family, friends, and associates of every kind, for obvious reasons, will. Others will miss him for equally understandable reasons. For instance, his sparring partners on Twitter (now X). For them, no more of the angry, unjust and sometimes laughable attacks on Rwanda and its leadership to which they would respond with patience, exasperation and bewilderment to correct the record. They will find others like him to spar with. Those for whom he has been a source of laughter for the manner in which he dismissed most things said about him and for being out of touch with reality, I am sure they will find other and worthier things to laugh at. Obviously, his partners in maligning their country have lost one of their own and will surely miss him. Not all the things we say now matter to him anymore. He has answered the summons and gone to his maker and will answer for his deeds and misdeeds on earth. We can only pray that he gets just reward for them.
