Therich Ayuk Besong, CPA
His last days, life and tribute
Dr. Joseph N.A Besong, for the family
It's so hard to believe that he's gone forever. I had not seen him in person for about 6 years. But he always sounded very optimistic about life on phone. How could it have been otherwise? He had just completed a project with the Patmos Church of Limbe Cameroon. His family sponsored a Christian holiday camp which regrouped over 200 children for a week. He was hoping to do more when we met again in his home at Holden, Massachusetts on the 1st of December 2015. He had sent a Limousine cab driver to pick me up from the Logan Int'l Airport. I learnt from the cab driver that they were good friends. He had worked for Therich when he served as Branch Manager for TD BankNorth in Natick, Massachusetts. He told me Therich is a good man and that he received enormous help from him. He was grateful to him. We got home from the Airport and I finally had a chance to see him. He was not looking good but I couldn't cry. I am a man of faith. I am used to encouraging others. God had given me another chance to do same here. Only this time, it was part of me that was hurting. I kill my worries and fear, I engaged him into a discussion. We spoke about many things: friends, family, business, food, aspirations for the future; but most especially we prayed together. Sickness had eaten into his flesh but his spirit was strong, well and alive. So I trusted God for a reversal. It was possible. So we prayed together and asked God to do the impossible. After communing and praying for two days (1st and 2nd December), we agreed to continue our catching-up and prayers in person between the 7th and the 10th of December. I was scheduled to leave the US on the 11th. But we continued to pray on a daily basis by phone using WhatsApp, after I left his home for Harvard Square, where I took residence for a week. Wednesday the 5th of December looked like any other day. I read a message while in school from his wife that he had some challenges during the day. That kept me worried all through the day. He had been to see his Doctor the previous day and there was no alarm. At least, that's what I thought. I hurried back to my room at the end of the school day so I could chat and pray with him. It was still December 5th. I called him at about 6pm. He took his call and I saw his lovely face. He was looking okay. I mean, just like I left him on the 2nd of December. I saw his face on WhatsApp. He greeted me and asked if he could call me later in about 2 hours. He seemed to have been busy doing something or some event happening around kept him from having a conversation. I noticed he was a little sweaty on his face. I asked why he was sweating. His last words to me, "don't worry, I'll call you back in 2 hours". I sat idly on my room desk waiting for his call. Probably also fidgeting around with my computer. I was almost losing count of time when my phone starting ringing. I thought, finally the call had come. Getting to the phone, I discovered it was rather his wife calling. She said, "You have to pray". "Please call your prayer warriors". "We are losing him”. I tried to call some prayer partners I could remember. It was past 9pm in the US. Most people were deeply asleep in Cameroon. I only could reach his good friend Pastor Gideon of Patmos Church Limbe. I asked him to join me pray for his friend. It was a dark night. I called his wife back. There was no better news. I could hear her asking the medics if they were getting a heartbeat. I could sense in my spirit that the heartbeat was already gone. I continued to pray until they got to hospital. But nothing filtered from his wife about the situation. I enquired to know but she told me the Doctors were still trying to reanimate him. Sometime about 10 pm, I was informed that the Doctors had declared him dead. I kept on praying in the assurance that all things are possible with God. If He brought Lazarus back from the grave after 4 days, then He could do it for us after an hour. Then the nail was finally driven into my head. His wife with whom I was praying on the phone told me it was all over. They were taking his body to the morgue. What a tragedy. What a pain in the dark cold Boston night. All alone in my room. The loneliness and grief was intense. The young man I had hoped will be there to bury all his brothers and sisters, eight in number, and in-laws, had left them behind to mourn him. I had been fooled. He had gone ahead to his gain. He wanted to be with Jesus. It was too painful on earth. After working so hard, he never had a chance to enjoy from his labour. He was sick in the years of his fruit. He could not enjoy them.
I paid his first tuition fee for him to attend secondary school at GHS Wum Cameroon. Our elder sister with whom we lived, Emilia Besong Ndum had gone on assignment to Yaounde. It was almost the last day for registration. We only had money for transportation to join her at the end of the school year. God is gracious. In those days the Government of Cameroon still paid scholarship money to the best performing students in secondary school. I was on the list. Just when we needed money. It was FCFA 13000 (26 US dollars). It was just enough to cover for the fees. I had a lot of plans for that money though. But for the love of my brother, I surrendered that money. It brought me great joy that I could help him achieve his dreams. That’s the way of our family. Our father had died young. Our elder brother John, our sister Emilia, Aunties and relatives had stepped in to support. We did not have much but the spirit of love kept us together and prospered us beyond measure. I was there again when he graduated with a Masters Degree in information Technology from Clark University in Massachusetts in 2007. I lived with him. He had earlier graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Accounting (3.4 GPA) from the University of Buea in 1999. I was not there when he got married but he visited and lived with me in Yaounde-Cameroon at the end of 2012. He had come to present his wife and the two children he had then to the family. I never had time to visit him to celebrate with him when he was admitted as a certified public accountant. But I was hoping to celebrate with him this time around but not for his accomplishments. We had to celebrate my certificate from Harvard University. He was very proud of me when he heard about my scholarship to Harvard. He could hardly wait for me to come. Alas, we never celebrated. He left us in the cold. He waited for me to come liberate him. He just wanted to see me for the last time. It was not to celebrate. I had to feel his pain through love. Even in pain, he could still utter the words, “brother I love you.”
O death, where is your victory. O death, where is your sting. Jesus won the final battle to the dismay of the devil and his cohort. Therich is gone to glory. Alleluia until we meet again in glory to part no more. I will forever miss you my dear brother. Your brothers and sisters will forever miss you. Your nephews and nieces will forever miss you. Your aunties and in-laws will forever miss you. Your friends, colleagues and all those you helped without knowing, will forever miss you. My heart bleeds. Thank God for the blood of his son. You have made me a better person. You were the best! You are now with your senior sister Kate Besong, your mother Alice Besong and your father Napoleon Besong. The heavenly family is growing bigger. Adieu Chifa! Adieu Monka! Adieu Ndekendah!