My love of cartoons, cartoon books, and other exciting adventure books could be traced to this one man, a fine broadcast engineer, and one of my favourite uncles, Engineer Eddy Amana. There was Hagar the horrible, Asterix, Vitalstastixtics and Snoopy. Together, we exchanged countless cartoon books, and because I was young, I would depend on Uncle Amana for my monthly stash.
Lazy evenings in my parents’ home were filled with laughter and the enchantment of Tom and Jerry. In the pre-video era, we avidly watched NTA cartoons, with my mum bringing lunch, urging us to eat before chasing Jerry. Amidst the scarcity of TV, we relished stories of Charlie Brown, Obelix’s antics, and Snoopy’s adventures—a shared escape into a world of delightful tales.
Uncle Amana was an engineering student who enjoyed spending his vacation with us, and I was the precocious, straggly nine year old who was his niece.
Engineer Amana, then a student of Engineering, would show up with dog-eared copies of Charlie Brown, all for me, as I now returned a collection of borrowed cartoon collections. Then, of course, I began to ask any Aunty or uncle who visited to buy me copies of these, which I now lent to my uncle. Someone understood my hunger for reading, my love for stories, my passion for adventure, and fed me with everything I needed. It was Uncle Amana. Cartoon books and more carton books. I literally lived in them. Remember those expressions in cartoon books and the stars around a character’s head if he hit his head on a wall for instance.
Uncle Amana was an engineering student who enjoyed spending his vacation with us, and I was the precocious, straggly nine year old who was his niece. I always looked forward to his visits, and he was always happy to hear my progress in school, and he was super proud of me.
One of my favourite pictures of all time is one he took of me when I turned nine, leaning against a wall I can not remember, a happy smile on my face. I had just turned nine, and Engineer Amana had just bought his first camera. I was super thrilled to be one of his first shots. I have kept this picture, which I truly cherish to this day. It remains one of my Treasured keepsakes.
Engineer Amana, akin to a firstborn son, radiated brilliance and kindness, eliciting joy in my parents. His entrance brought broad smiles to my mother and a lottery-winner’s stride to my Dad. In our home, he was universally adored—always smiling, a favourite. His engineering prowess earned him stellar praise, a source of pride for my parents. A stellar student, his achievements set a benchmark for us all. Unspoken but palpable, his presence embodied our parents’ expectations. We shared more than academics—our refuge lay in cartoons, stories, and adventures.
My mum loved him truly and would say “such a gentleman this Igala man”. She was not Igala. Their banter is always between them, personal and always heart-warming. He was a fine brother in law, she would say. Then, she would say to him when he would have assisted her with something. You will marry a good and fine wife, and he did. He married Aunty Bridget, an incredibly brilliant Economist who complemented his shining brilliance. And she taught me how to drive.
As life threw us different curves, we lived in Makurdi and then Lagos and then Abuja. Through it all with our families, Uncle Eddy or Uncle Amana, as he was fondly called, would stop by for a meal or pepper soup in our home, as we did in his. He loved my children deeply as I did his. He was the Uncle who would spoil them, encourage them, and occasionally watch cartoons with them.
Uncle Eddy’s engineering career soared, earning acclaim from the Commonwealth, Broadcasting industry, ITU, and top engineering firms. His fame transcended borders, becoming an icon in broadcast engineering. Proudly, I heard universal praise for his kindness and leadership. He once faced trouble for letting homesick junior staff use his phone, covering their bills. His generosity defined him—he shared without prompting. As his staff, he consistently looked out for us, seeking opportunities even when unasked. His unwavering support was a testament to his compassionate leadership.
While everyone else called him Ted or Teddy or Eddy, my Dad, who was Uncle Eddy’s uncle would only refer to him as Edward which was very proper. And between my Dad and Uncle Eddy, they could speak English for Africa. Although my Uncle was an Engineer, he could easily have been a broadcaster for the win. He spoke impeccable English.
Two decades ago, Uncle Eddy lost his beloved wife, the beautiful and brilliant Aunty Bridget. He was devastated. He worked hard to bring up his children, all of whom have become great persons, geniuses in their own right, and have remained my children’s favourite cousins.
Last week, I choked back the tears, late afternoon when one of his children had sent a distress call. One thing led to another and I speak of my uncle now only in the past. It is surreal.
It’s difficult to believe that we have now arrived at a morgue to place my Uncle. It has been tough but we know where our loved ones who were kind and generous go.
Uncle Amana, you were truly a gentleman and the lives you touched across the world have called, showed up and shed a tear or two. May his gentle soul rest in peace, Amen
Unekwu, Ede, Idoko, Junior and Iye, just know that our prayers and thoughts are with you at this time as your gentleman father departs the world. The broadcast engineering world has lost a towering member. The Nigerian Television authority and the National Broadcast commission have lost one of their own.
We thank God for his life; Uncle, you will be sorely missed.
