“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof.” – Psalm 46:1-3; KJV
I was shocked beyond words when on 20th January I heard from Gloria that my brother Seth had passed away. A deep and personal sorrow filled my heart at that moment. Seth was no more and the extraordinary light which he brought into our lives was gone with him.
Seth and I met in sixth form at St Augustine’s College, Cape Coast, in 1972. From the beginning, Seth struck me as a wonderful person with a big heart and brilliant mind; he was a sharp, logical, and meticulous thinker. He was not only cheerful in himself but also shared his happiness with others. He always had a ready smile, a friendly demeanour, and a cracking sense of humour.
We have been classmates and colleagues since then. After completing medical school, and our initial housemanship at Korle Bu, we worked together at Bawku Hospital where we lived under the same roof for three years.
For most people these words would be enough, but Seth’s life was special and I write in celebration of a life well lived, a life worthy of emulation, exemplifying brilliance and excellence.
Seth was a living embodiment of how fine a person can be. He was a loving husband to his wife, and a devoted father to his children. He was also a great colleague and a good friend to many of us. In my case, we became brothers in the true sense of the word. It is said that you cannot choose your family, but you can choose your friends. Seth chose me for a friend and we became family. And for that I am grateful.
Over the years, I admired Seth for his great social skills, his ability to make friends easily. He always made one feel wanted, welcome, and relaxed. Seth loved to share and was generous to a fault.
While we were in Medical School in Accra, Seth would invite me to visit the Kaneshie home of his older brother Eric. We always shared a good time and I got to learn where Seth’s welcoming generosity came from.
Seth was fit and athletic. I remember the early morning bike rides on the red dust road from Bawku to Missiga and back, a distance of more than 10 km; with his peak physical conditioning, Seth always came first. Those of us who were in university with Seth will attest to his passion for lawn tennis and his sportsmanship.
Seth was also one to fearlessly put other people’s needs before his own. While the circumstances must remain confidential, I once witnessed Seth willing to take enormous risks to himself in order to save the life of an innocent man who was being pursued.
I remember him to be an excellent cook during the time we stayed together. He was very welcoming to my siblings who visited. He treated them all like family and years later he would always enquire after each one of them and ask with genuine interest how they were doing. My younger siblings loved him and affectionately called him Dr Seth. When told about Seth’s passing away, my youngest brother, more than ten years younger, recalled the early morning bicycle trips that he and Seth would make from the hospital to Missiga, and how difficult it was to keep up with a fit Seth on the dust roads.
Seth loved a good conversation. He had a peculiarly infectious laughter…when he would laugh like that, I too would do the same. He would find it funny, laugh even more boisterously, and this back-and-forth contagion soon had us both in stitches laughing like little children. Seth was always a joy to be with.
After Bawku Hospital we worked together in Korle Bu before going abroad to specialise. I remember when I visited Seth and Gloria in Glasgow. Seth’s joy and happiness when I passed my surgical fellowship examination was very much as if this was his personal success.
Seth could truly be described as the Everyman that this country needs to forge ahead in unity. He learnt quickly and was fluent in many local languages including Twi, Ga and Kusaal among others – not exhibiting any anxiety or concern if he spoke a broken version. It just made him delighted to be able to reach out to others.
I was not so blessed and Seth quickly discovered this when I asked him to teach me Ewe. After three months when, the poor student I was, I could only remember how to count one to ten in Ewe, Seth looked me in the eye and intoned “I think you should learn the one phrase that would save your life if you ever get lost in the Volta region”. We spent a number of weeks of “repeat after me” over the dinner table “do le wuem ntor. nade le asiwo miadua?”
Knowing Seth, I was convinced he had got me to learn a rude phrase until he explained and I confirmed the meaning with my other Ewe friends.
He was always willing to share his ideas and information. Seth taught me how to drive. I remember him always saying to look in the rear-view mirror, look in the rear-view mirror – at first, I argued with him that that was an odd way to drive since I had to move the car forward! But as I mastered driving the car, I came to know that he was right.
We had our disagreements and sometimes our exchanges might become heated, but like brothers we made up quickly; even if Seth got angry you knew it would be over in a flash, never lasting more than the moment, and when he cooled off you knew that the matter was utterly forgotten, forgiven and never to linger as a grudge.
In his career as an Obstetrician/Gynaecologist, Seth worked long hours with enthusiasm, professional dedication, integrity and untiring drive. Everyone who knew him will miss a highly intelligent, compassionate person, with a rare and endearing personality. Our grief is only slightly lessened by the warm memories we shared with him in this life, and the privilege we had of knowing Seth.
Seth’s life might be summarised in a few words: he was sincere, he was earnest, he was full of wit and humour, he was generous, he was a good man, and he was a loyal friend. His dedication and energy inspired many people, including his medical colleagues and his patients.
Seth’s long illness, and now his passing, humbles us to know the limits of our craft as physicians and makes us reflect on our own mortality too. With his health challenges, he moved to Accra with Gloria. And I couldn’t see him as often as I used to when he was in Kumasi, but I noticed that, in spite of the loving care provided by his wife Gloria, his health was gradually deteriorating with each visit.
I was stricken with grief when on one of those last visits, Seth appeared not to recognise me. This was most difficult – to see Seth in his twilight months, the laughter gone, the cheeky humor with it, the attentive gleam in his countenance dimmed.
I will miss Seth’s company, his hilarious jokes, the times discussing clinical cases, conversations about any and everything, even the savoured silences with no hint of awkwardness, sharing a meal or a cold drink. These are memories I will cherish till we meet again.
Rest in peace my colleague, my friend, my brother.
My sincerest condolences to Gloria and the children. May God grant you the grace and strength to go through these difficult times. Know that we share this pain too, and pain shared is a gate to healing.