“Farewell Biz!

Ab was a feeling many of us were lucky to share and enjoy.

A feeling of kind happiness, honest joy, hard work, safety and challenge. “Come on, Kweks!” would be his refrain in dismissing views I expressed without empathy and / or consideration of others. By instinct and reflex, Ab was a kind and engaging man, and that was his superpower. Indeed, my grandmother, Amaa, as well as countless other people, never really got over their introduction to Ab, the gold standard of poise, maturity and elegance. I would frequently cut short the “who is that really nice, tall friend of yours, who…..” My immediate answer: “Ab”. Then followed the smiling reflection: “Ab! Yesssss, how is he?” Ab was always an answer worth trying. A reliable response in all situations, and simply a person who improved wherever he was.

It is in reflecting on Ab’s passing that I realise how ubiquitous he was in all our lives: Literally, always, a phone call away. I cannot put my finger on when it was exactly that Ab became such a close friend and brother, partly because Ab was such an easy person to meet and get on with. I remember first meeting him on the basketball court in Hendon - a merciless place for any player without “chat” or a jump shot. There, Nigeria’s finest (albeit temporarily Finchley / Hendon based) “athletes”, all, of course, enroute in their minds to a US basketball scholarship or more, converged to barge, bully and dunk on anyone. To any newcomer, the “chat” often in pidgin English, was deliberately insulting, intense and unwavering. However, remarkably, after the games, the same antagonists would morph into a supportive and caring unit, advising each other on genuine job opportunities – hiring black men, everyday life improvements and other possibilities. Ab was a central figure in that community for good reason and was always alive to what job opportunities there were available to this young cortege of, invariably, West African men, outside basketball! Even then, for such a tall and popular man, Ab carried a soft voice, rarely punctuated with anger, and a gentle inclusive manner.

There is the risk that Ab’s relaxed disposition, which had mastered the art of overcoming personal slights with grace, may be overplayed. Ab knew life and was perfectly placed to advise both the wolf and the sheep. “Easy”, he was not, where it came to responsibility: “Stepping up”. For Ab, friendship was a real relationship of obligation and burden. He insisted on true friendship and made me a better friend. His white linen trousers and blazer combinations softened the silhouette of a resolute family man, tethered to responsibility and obligation. Ab woke every morning for his family and worked every day for his family. He adored his daughters, who brought him such unrestrained joy and pride.

The last time I spoke publicly of Ab was as his best man at the Landmark Hotel, some 20 years ago. Sat beaming in his elegant grey tailcoat and light blue socks, with the smile of the stalker whose risky plan had paid off, Abuchi readily recognised his good fortune in finding Rachel. We drank, ate, danced, laughed and collectively blessed his beautiful union because we loved Ab.

This time, my words are without response or rebuttal. Frankly put: “Man down”. The sting of his passing will never repair, but that may be for the better. As grief gives way to memory, mine will be of the great fortune I had to call Ab my brother. Ab was an incredible brother and friend. ”

— Kweku Aggrey-Orleans