The Fru Ndi I knew – Forbin Angela.

Fru Ndi was a gargantuan political figure. The light on the hill of post-independence multiparty politics. He was bigger than just the opposition, in fact the rebirth of multi-party politics carries his stamp and seal. 

The hundreds of political parties we see today are the result of his life’s risks in the 90s. What he started as a lobby group to decry Anglophone marginalisation in the 80s created by himself and his cousin, Siga Asanga, he quickly renamed and changed into a political party known as the SDF.

The government did everything to deter him and would not legalise the party. They deployed over 2,000 troops to Ntarikon, who would be overpowered by a mammoth crowd of about eighty thousand supporters there to witness the one time Ebibi bookshop owner launch the Social Democratic Front atop his SUV. The Biya regime had never seen a thing like that. 

An unconventional, insanely charismatic and cunning challenger who would rattle them for at least two decades. Ni John Fru Ndi surfed the dangers of a ruthless repressive regime keeping his hope sails high on ideals of democracy and change! The government would eventually cave in to his demands to exit the single party era after using all kinds of crude force to subdue the unflinching man with the iconic fist drawn up. They had the power of the guns and he, Fru Ndi had the power of the people.
The people were his power and were ready to do anything to prove it to him. From his native Baba II to Ntarikon where he lived, all the way to Kousseri passing through Yaounde, Douala and Mbouda, this man pulled crowds no other politician can easily second till this date. Millions adored him and were ready to have heat strokes to see him thunder the rallying cry ‘Power to the People’. Spending time with him helped me understand why, just a little.

The man was a complete break away from the high sounding, straight jacketed foreign educated politicians. He connected with the masses at their levels, broke it down with parables and idioms in Pidgin English and made the lay man feel seen. 

He combed all the Subdivisions of Cameroon, risking his life to get to the most remote areas of the country and making it a duty to dine with the underprivileged in the most poverty stricken trenches. I had asked him once in 2011 after he’d combed some of the deepest cracks and crevices of the country eating in all kinds of shacks as potential voters offered him food: Pa’a aren’t you afraid of getting sick and dying from this eating food prepared in very unhygienic circumstances?” His response was: “They are human beings like myself. If they can eat what they give me then I can eat it too.” 

I am a journalist and was raised by one. Trust me, I know my way around our country’s historical facts and politics. I have had the privilege of meeting all kinds of people. Politicians, presidents, Saudi royalty, but never in my lifetime had I seen a man as magnetic as the phenomenon that was the Chairman.

The instruments of state power and money have a way of creating pseudo charisma for some people. With Fru Ndi, it was different. He walked into a room unaccompanied and in seconds the full spotlight was on him. His magnetism brought people close to him, and his genuine care and love kept them closer.

This man was a lover of humans and stopped at nothing to bargain for better living conditions for Cameroonians, the people he loved so much. It’s no secret allegation and it is generally conceded in many diplomatic circles that he won the 1992 presidential election. 

I remember on one of my visits to his place at Ntarikon for work, I thought I’d quickly dive in, sit down for an interview and would wrap up in tops two hours. Took the night bus from Yaounde, arrived at 7a.m. and went to quickly freshen up at the Baptist guest house. Got to the residence and there was already a crowd of people waiting for him to rise up. High school children had camped in front of his gates waiting to catch a glimpse of the man who kept the Biya regime on its toes. 

Inside, there were people in the yard and living room. When he finally came down at 9a.m., everyone in the room spontaneously rose up. Between greetings, he turned to me and said: “You are too skinny, you need some food. I need to feed you. Bring her some puff puff and pap”. I just knew the day wouldn’t go as planned. I could not say no to his request. It wasn’t a request either, it was an order. 

Besides, he didn't take no for answers. Throughout the day, there was a steady stream of people who came with a million requests. Fru Ndi was their problem solver, the rock they could rely on, a man who stretched himself thin to resolve all kinds of problems for people he didn’t even know. It was like there was constant party and entertainment at his house. There was always food and drink. Brasseries made it a duty to deliver drink supplies. Though he was not allowed to sit through a presidential mandate he had won in 1992, he was the president of people’s hearts.

After breakfast and later lunch, he asked a pastor who was visiting to bless my trip back. I left for Yaounde with interview sound bites in hand, a bear hug from Pa as I called him and a few pounds thicker.
This man’s contribution to nation building goes well beyond obtaining a return to multi-party politics from a tight fisted president. He played frontline roles in the advocacy for a free press which led to the liberty laws of the 1990s and the proliferation of private-owned news and media organisations. 

He loved the press and they buttered his bread. He lobbied earnestly for the creation of an independent Elections organiser- ELECAM. Fru Ndi heavily protested against the 2008 constitutional amendment lifting a cap on the presidential mandates to allow Biya to run for president an umpteenth time. We sat once in his Nouvelle Route Omnisports Yaounde residence. 

Every time he was in town, he would send for me through John his namesake and personal assistant. This was while the Nkolfoulou home was under construction. We were as usual chatting away about the country. 

He was sharing some discouraging experiences of advocacy and sacrifice for a people that didn’t seem to care or had become so completely uninterested in their destiny. We carried our conversation from the living room to the kitchen. He had insisted as usual on feeding me and was going to warm up some rice and stew. I am young enough to be his daughter and maybe even a granddaughter. He treated me as such. We came back to the living room and I sat down. Pa said they once decided to organise a protest against the constitutional amendment and as they walked the streets of Yaounde 20th May avenue and star building area along with the late Honorable Banadzem and Mbah Ndam amongst others, under the scorching sun, they became fatigued and wanted to let go, the police had been deployed and literally obliged them to keep walking. 

Fru Ndi said to me “they kept tipping off my hat from this my bald head and the sun was dealing with me. The population didn’t even care to join us for something so important. I wanted us to just stop and go home. The police kept saying since you wanted to protest and march you must continue.” As grave as what he was telling me was, how he said it made me laugh uncontrollably. That was the Fru Ndi I knew. That was Pa for you. 

I had asked his son Shimbagha the physician, why Pa ran in the 2011 race and he said he had seriously considered handing over but they soon realised active politics was his oxygen and lifeblood. It kept him going. 

In January of 2013, when he first visited the Unity Palace for New Year wishes to his longtime adversary, I expressed my desire for him to grace us with his presence at the TV station that employed me. He had remotely been our guest a few times but this time the mountain had agreed to come to Mohamed. None of my colleagues or leadership believed this could ever be possible. He was too high on a pedestal in their minds for this to become a reality. Pa understood the dynamics of human nature and the marginalisation Anglophones encountered even at their jobs. 

He was extremely shrewd and as if to subtly tell them I was one of his, he asked me to come to the house in the morning first. I arrived there and parked my Camry. Before I knew it, I was told I would be riding in the land cruiser that carried his name seated in the back with him. 

Now I had ridden with him once all the way to his village Baba 2 but this was different. This was a huge statement as he knew how to make them. As we arrived at the gates of my TV station and the driver honked, a security that is usually accustomed to dealing with countless celebrities was in complete pandemonium. “Sortez, Ni John Fru Ndi est la!” 

The entire station emptied out from offices to come and see him. Directors were rushing and literally reprimanding me for mentioning the previous day a little too casually that he’ll be coming over. It was a major event and I needed to have made the announcement a little more loudly. A special edition was immediately made to accommodate his presence and we went live on TV. 

For 30 minutes, I grilled him and he batted those curve balls back at me tactfully and sometimes ruthlessly. A huge crowd had gathered outside to see him and some SDF officials also rushed there to meet us. 

He was comfortable and won over the entire house with his massive charm. Everyone was spellbound even after we’d left and of course it made me have a bigger plate and the master's table. I would never thank him enough for planting in concrete my influence in that house.

One thing I regret today as he has gone, is to not have told him how loved and cherished and inspiring he was when we spoke about two months ago. I was too preoccupied by the drama the SDF was facing with the forced exit of 34 of its members. I was too stuck on the news to thank him and wish him well, yet the man was at the tail end of his battle with sickness. 

Quite frankly, it never occurred to me that he was going to die someday. That's how much larger than life he was to me. I have my grievances and unsolved puzzles with this towering figure. His more recent stances on the Anglophone identity crisis and his tendency to take criticisms a little too personally and to subsequently wipe out all forms of dissent as we saw within his party are some. 

I also felt overstaying his welcome would dampen his humongous political legacy. But then again I understand how ruthless opposition politics in a country with a regime that is designed to break and crush its opponents can be. 

Fru Ndi read the environment and knew that the business he had gotten himself into was not one of selling books or grocery stores. This was a dog eat dog environment and you needed razor sharp wits, street savvy and some fangs to survive. He bit and slayed when it was necessary. He was prepared for war at all times. I think he did a fantastic job at keeping afloat.

He and the SDF powerfully accomplished what they were born to bring forth and did their time. The birth of the SDF in itself is a mighty contribution to national life which is more than enough and indisputable. For that he deserves an official funeral. He shook the Yaounde regime out of slumber, ushered in Democracy in Cameroon and post-independence political diversity, media variety and taught people what true love of country and people was. 

He gave of himself endlessly. Jean Cocteau used to say, there's no such thing as love, only proof of love. This man loved Anglophones and Cameroonians more than any of the activists we see professing love and killing their own so easily in the midst of this government provoked pathetic war. He proved it every single day that there was life in him. 

He came, he saw, he conquered, he led, he loved and he has now gone to answer God's most supreme call. Pa even as you rest, the people give you your Power!