Can this be a bad dream? Am I really awake? Someone tell me this news is not real…

Putting pen on paper to write a tribute in form of the final rites of respect to Sunday is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life in a very long time.

Since the very moment I received a call from one of my old track and field mate “Jude Monye” I have been dumbfounded and in awe of the transiency of this world we live in. Can you imagine that we just watched various video recordings of the 2000 Sidney Olympic Games the day prior? This was during Jude Monye’sbaby dedications. The happy gathering was in the presence of a group of Nigerians based in Kansas City in the United States of America. You needed to see us shouting and hailing Nigeria at every exchange of the baton till the end of the race. The evening’s gathering did feel like we were back at the stadium relieving the whole silver medal scenario again… the silver medal as you all know eventually turned to gold!

 All this occurred on Dec 11th, 2011. So, you can imagine my shock when I received a call the following day (December 12th2011) that our own Sunday Bada had just passed on! “How could that happen,” I muttered to no one in particular. “Oh my God!Oh my God! Oh my God!” were the next few coherent sounds that came tumbling down my mouth… I still feel a pinch of pain in my heart each time I remember that SB  is no more.

By the time I got myself together, my first few thoughts went to his wife and children, his elderly parents and siblings… my tears flowed freely in the knowledge that our world had just lost a great person in SB and the vacuum this will create will just be too deep to be filled.  So when it became inevitable that I must put my feeling down somehow, I found out that with every stroke of the pen, finding the right combination of words became almost impossible. How I wish this task had not been required. How I wish I could turn back the hands of time and undo his death.

But as the events cannot be undone, and I must say a few words I really don’t know where to start or what to say. Words fail me because memories of times spent together keep flooding back like a dam that has lost its latch. Should I start from the first time we met, or the struggles we endured together as athletes, or the victories and winnings celebrated together, or our petty disagreements, name calling, nicknames,  fun times and so much other stuffs? I will rather dwell on the fun times together and the person I grew fond of instead of talk about him in the past.

Sunday Bada lives in our hearts and the tracks on which he ran will never forget him.

Sunday was the fourth brother I never had, he was extremely close my to family especially with two of my brothers Ayo and Kenny Aladefa. They shared special times together while Sunday was still in high school (at St. Anthony Secondary School in Ilorin, Kwara State). Later he went to the Police Academy in Sokoto where my twin brother went to visit and stay with him during his ‘down times’. There were other times he also sneaked to visit during our periods of training under the tutorshipof “great coach Harrison Momah” . We all shared a room together; he shared his training kits with my brothers; we have lotsof shared secrets, shared jokes and moreover, shared dreams, and the eventual dreams of becoming future champions.

 Though life led my brothers and I to the United States of America, while Sunday stayed back in Nigeria, our interest in his progress never waned. The geographical separation notwithstanding, we all made a pact that whatever it will take we shall train hard to be one of the best in the world. As God will have it we all accomplished that goal in our own way.

I remember when I came to Nigeria in 1991 for the All Africa Games held in Egypt, Sunday came with my older brother to the hotel where the US-based athletes stayed and I grabbed the opportunity to really talk one on one with him. I wanted to know why he did not consider coming over to the US like every athlete. I still recall him flashing his smile and calling me “Aburokekere” (little sister); he assured me that he would be okay training in Nigeria. He believed that the home-based athletes could do as well as the foreign-based if they were given all the access that we had in US for training. He had this serious tone in his voice that I eventually joked and said ‘Amen’. That was the man Bada and his resolve.

The fact that he was a struggling athlete who accepted his condition and still took time to explain to me that things must change for the home-based athletes and that great talents abound in Nigeria who have not yet been discovered made me conclude that Sunday was a selfless individual. In addition, Sunday single-handedly destroyed the myth of US or foreign-based athletes as more superior athletes than the home based athletes. He did not allow the disparity to weigh him down. He humbled himself and was subsequently dedicated to anyone who needed his assistance.

Looking back now, with tears almost running down my cheeks, I can hear his voice and words of encouragement. He was more than a rock I could lean upon, a shoulder I could cry upon and willing listener who was always ready to listen to me at any time and at any place.

If it must be said, Sunday encouraged anyone who needed his encouragement; he never let people forget their goals. He was a real organizer of people, a peace maker. Sunday Bada gave loyalty a human face. He personified loyalty with his actions and deeds. I could go on forever recounting various incidents and moments shared with this sunny buddy.

Like all things in life, I too must find a way to end this eulogy. How so soon he has sprinted ahead of the rest of us, breasting the tape of life and without an opportunity of doing a victory lap.  As he lies in-state, with family, friends and colleagues paying their last respect, I know deep down in my heart that his deed and actions will never be forgotten.   The wound is still fresh and  I miss you my dear friend, brother, and reliable confidante. I’m consoled by the fact that you gave it your all and did your best. Adieu “Okunrin Meta”. May the Lord comfort your family, colleagues and all your sports family.

Though my words may end here, the following are thoughts of two of my brothers whose words amplify our collective sense of loss.