- NEWSDAY.CO.TT - A la Une - 22/07/2024 04:22

Loss of academic giants, musings on Brinsley and Funso

DR LEXLEY PEREIRA IT'S JUST a year since Professor Brinsley Samaroo took flight to the Great Beyond. At the time, he was remembered with deep feelings by eminent academics including Winston Dookeran, Bridget Brereton, Ken Ramchand, and very recently, Newsday columnist Jerome Teelucksingh. They recalled Brinsley as the learned historian, erudite scholar, riveting raconteur, sagacious teacher, judicious politician, and humble human being. In short, as Rudyard Kipling said, "a Man." It’s now a year later, that I write about Brinsley, my friend. It took time, that metaphorically great healer with its uncanny proficiency, to knead out the painful memory of his parting, to get me to narrate my moment of friendship with him. I met Brinsley through his youthful and charming daughter Kavita, when we were physicians at the same clinic. Like her father, Kavita has a quiet brilliance and fierce streak of independence, tempered with generosity and humanity. When suddenly and tragically, my husband passed away, she brought me equanimity and serenity and subsequently introduced me to her parents, Joan and Brinsley. Thereafter and to this day, Kavita grumbles/laments that after putting me in contact with them, she was forgotten, and I had no time for her. Such was the adhesive charm of Joan and Brinsley. They were lovely, homely, entirely unassuming, completely generous and unreservedly sincere people, and quickly we were great friends. I would often call Brinsley to say I was popping by and please would he fix me refreshing coconut water adulterated with whatever spirituous liquid he had in mind. His interesting blends never disappointed. We would sit in the breezy porch, chatting away, foretelling the outcome of the current political fiasco, analysing the demonetisation of India’s Modi government, and always, always, I would learn something new about this twin-island republic. It could be as varied as her people, her politics, the origin of street names, the rise and fall of the sugar industry, the Black Power Revolution, or derivation of Indian names from Sanskrit, Brinsley would recite events, articulate past history and engage in story telling in gripping detail. Many a time, a former student (and they were numerous) would call for guidance and Brinsley would adroitly address their issues. Joan would join us with her beautifully-crafted and crisp sandwiches and afternoon tea, ever the gracious hostess, yet quick and ready to respond to Brinsley’s many attempts to provoke and nettle her. I confess, I loved and actually savoured these verbal exchanges which provided more than my weekly dose of entertainment. Whether it was at his home up in the mountains or at his little cottage off the beach in Mayaro, this couple was an immense joy to be with. He would send me home with yam, or plantain, mango, five fingers or Noni juice, all the work of his nimble green fingers, from his estate. On one occasion I mentioned, it was sad he never got to meet my late husband. He replied, "but that’s how I knew you even before we met!" I miss you Brinsley. I miss your intellect, knowledge, humour, generosity, your wisdom, essence, humility and humanity. You were not just a public historian, you could decide what was worthy of history. FUNSO'S SPIRIT On the morning of July 1, I got a brief message on WhatsApp telling of Funso's passed that morning. Disbelief, shock, a feeling of numbness and deep grief engulfed me. Only a few days earlier we had talked after he had just brought his wife Lynda home from the hospital. As she said, Funso always gave his family sterling service. Funso was a family man, a scholar, an academic, a poet, a literary colossus, an administrator, a teacher, a leader and an exemplar in each role. The accolades and recognition he received are legion and have been described by many who knew him and poured out their sentiments on hearing of his passing. [caption id="attachment_1097703" align="alignnone" width="600"] Professor Funso Aiyejina. -[/caption] This was a man who brushed shoulders with the campus principal yet gracefully acknowledged the security guard at the exit gate each day. Funso and Lynda became close friends over the years. Initially I knew him at a distance on the UWI campus. He would meet my husband as they waited to collect our children following classes for the Math Olympiad. They would share their poetry, in English and Portuguese. Lynda kept me abreast of his dream house in Cumana, when he was in the process of constructing it from scratch. Besides all his academic prowess Funso was a naturalist. He had a keen eye for capturing nature’s splendour in rocks, twigs and stones. He assembled a marvellous collection of these bits and pieces at his sanctuary in Cumana. Under his watch the most colourful florae bloomed, and he gave me beautiful plantlets from his garden which later blossomed into leaves of rainbow hues. Funso was not the ordinary kind of friend. He was there whenever I called for guidance and went out of the way to help me tackle problems. Always the cheerful optimist, I cannot recall him without his sunny smile and resounding laugh. A naturalised Trini, he was perhaps more Trini than Trini-born Trinidadians. But he loved Nigeria, the land of his birth. His mastery of language brought him honours like the Commonwealth Writer’s prize and the James Michener Fellowship. His poetry showcased a tapestry of Nigerian and Trini culture, often entwined. When he spoke, Funso used simple yet expressive idioms and it was a joy to listen to. I cannot do more justice than has already been done to the academic and brilliant literary giant that this man was. For me, he was a valiant fighter of all that was right. He was a shining, unblemished soul. The loss of these two titans, is an indelible scar on my wall of friendship. Brilliant thinkers with the hallmark of excellence, they were untarnished human beings. True to form, the Grim Reaper snatched them away like a thief in the night. But as John Donne said: "Death, be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so. For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not." In a different context, but yet appropriately extrapolated, the poet reminds us: "They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old, age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn — we will remember them." Editor's Note: Brinsley Samaroo was a professor emeritus of History at UWI, St Augustine, a government senator and minister. Funso Aiyejina was a Nigerian-born poet, short story writer, playwright and academic. He was dean of Humanities and Education, and professor emeritus at UWI.   The post Loss of academic giants, musings on Brinsley and Funso appeared first on Trinidad and Tobago Newsday.