I have spoken on the issue of loss and grieving a few times before as death is something that all of us have had to deal with in some shape or form. There are the rituals that are followed and the crying that is done and the contrition that is shown, and most of all there is the sense of loss that can be potentially devastating. In an archaic nation such as Ethiopia, the issue of death and the sacraments that are attached to it make it one of the most important social functions of our society.

With us Abeshas where religion is a way of life, the concept of life everlasting is something that gives comfort to the mourning. There is the idea that the person, which has recently left this world, is moving on to somewhere where the grass is greener. This is all tied into the concept of the soul. All the religions that are practiced in this country teach that there is an afterlife and that man will in some abstract form live out eternity with his maker.

The idea of a soul is one that is a bit alien to me. This is not to talk down on the faith of others, but for me, the whole soul thing is a tough pill to swallow. I have convinced myself that I will not delude my mind into thinking that we have to wait for our death in order to do penance for the regrets, get punishment for the mistakes and earn reward for the righteous actions in our lives. I say we see the fruits of our labours and the destruction of our wrongs wherever we turn in our day-to-day lives.

Now when I make unfeeling statements of this nature, it is not to say that I do not believe a person can live on after their death. On the contrary, I think this is a very possible feat; it is just that my means differ from the Orthodox notions that are predominant in our nation today.

There is nothing more final than the finality of death. The person whom it takes then ceases to exist in reality. And let me just reiterate for the sake of it that there is no existence outside of reality, as far as I am concerned.

But that person, who is no longer in the realm of reality, does not immediately vanish from their own life or from the lives of the people that were a part of it when they were still living. They continue to live on in the memories of the people that have spent time with them and loved them.

Now the nature and character of a man is not determined by the number of people that show up at his funeral; as is often the misconstruction here in our fair city; but rather how long that person is able to stay fresh in the memories of the people that they held dear. Those that are forgotten easily may not be as noteworthy as those that still come up in conversation 10 or 15 years down the road. This is the only form of immortality that a man can achieve, for me.

Look at Lincoln, or Da Vinci, Monet, the Wright Brothers, Franklin, Shakespeare, Churchill, I mean even Hailesellasie, if you want to bring it home. These people are just as alive as when they were breathing because the world has not forgotten them.

I speak on this issue because this week Addis lost someone that will forever be in the minds of hearts of her people. As I received the phone call that informed me that a young man of 29 had been killed, my heart fell at the sound of the words.

I am usually one of the most stoic people when it comes to death and dealing with the passing of people that I know, as you have to accept the fact that death is something that all of us are going to have to face sooner or later. But this particular young man broke my heart.

This was a person that was loved by all, and so the whole justification for death sort of lost its lustre if you know what I mean.

The young man that had passed away was one of the sweetest, kindest, gentlest and most respectful young men that Addis Abeba had the honour to be graced by. He treated all those he knew with deference, and afforded that same courtesy to those that he did not know as well. He was a brown skinned beauty that always had a smile on his face, and was there to put one on the face of others whether they wanted him to or not. I could of course go on and on about the character of this young man, but I doubt that all the space in the newspaper could handle that sort of volume.

There is no better man more deserving of a place in the infinity of memory than he. So, here I place an ode, in black and white to be imprinted in the memories of the world, so that he may live on forever.