PETER NDUMBE

I am deeply saddened at the untimely loss of Peter, a dear colleague and friend. As Chair of TDR’s Scientific and Technical Advisory Committee (STAC) he worked valiantly to refocus research efforts so that scientists in disease endemic countries would play a pivotal role in tackling the immense problems of neglected diseases, particularly in Africa. I greatly respected his leadership style and the manner in which he could handle difficult issues with firmness, tact and a touch of humour. “In my country”, he would say and then launch into parables such as “repairing the roofs of houses before the rainy season begins”, effectively delivering unwelcome messages in a gentle, but palatable manner. I will miss him deeply, especially his witty after dinner speeches as “Chair STAC”. My deepest condolences go out to his family, friends and colleagues. We have lost a great man.

Professor Alan Fairlamb, University of Dundee

And now the end has come
like for us all, the final curtain will fall.
But you my friend,

I'll say it clear, For all to hear,

How wonderful you were.
I'll state your case,

For records to show

That you lived a life

Full of joy, sometimes of pain

But what a Life, as few can live

And best of all,

You did it your way.

You traveled the world,

Spoke with the best

Brains of today

In health, Medicine or Science

That the world can offer.

Like the Exegete, that you were

Few could match,

The depth of your mind.

Advances you made,

In the world of Science

Forever will stay.

‘cause of you,

lives are  saved

And most all,

You did it your way.

Should you have lived

A Vulgate you would

Have written for us

Of what health, and science,

Will be tomorrow and always.

You charted each course,

Indeed so well
Each careful step,

Along the way.

But most of all,

The joy you had,

You did it your way.

Yes, there were times,

We laughed and cried
When we did not

Know what tomorrow would bring.
But all the same, steadfast you stood.

Through it all

When there was doubt
You ploughed ahead.

Belief you had

That beyond the clouds,

Dark as they were

Success would find indeed a way.

You did it your way.

And now my bro, I look behind

Rear view mirror to see,

How much you did.

In such a time, so short indeed

But oh, how well, you did it all.

And time will tell

How much you did.
And best of all, all you did

You did it your way.

We've loved, we've laughed,

And cried we have.
We've had our falls,

Our share of loss

We’ve also had.
And now my tears,

Subside they do.
I find it all,

Much endearing
To think how young

Indeed we were.

Then old we grew

And may I say

How much you loved us all.

Everyone you knew

Words not enough

To express the love

You had for all you knew.

Let the record show

You took the blows, but left still standing

When all around you, they fell like cards,

Blown they were, by the wind.

For no one, no other one

A course they face, so intrepid. 

And I’ll say, what you did achieve

You simply did, for love of country.

For only you, could do so much.

And best of all, you did it your way.

For what is man, what has he got
If not himself, and then his friends
A tricky world, we live today,

Friends are foes, and foes are friends.

But in all our lives, you stayed the same,

40 years and more, not a tear of pain

Did we cause, to each other.

For true a friend you were indeed

Until the end.

And now the time

Has come for me to say

Good bye my friend.

Good bye dear brother

For never there was

A friend so dear.

Until the last of days for you,

And me as well

And so we will unite again

Across the bridge, of no return.

But a seat, please keep warm for me.

For even the Lord knows

How good a friend, you were to me.

Good Bye Templar, Good Bye “The Saint”

Let all the Saints in heaven rejoice.

For a good man has joined their ranks.

Good bye Templar, Good bye.

Forever with Love

Your brother,

Sammy Buma.

Say it isn’t so Templar…Say it isn’t so!

Call me and tell me you are not gone!

Fresh tears roll over old tears as I taste the salty drops down on my lips. The hurt inside grows more, and the thought that we will never see again is unbearable. For how can it be? The loss of a friend is painful; the death of a brother is indescribable! This wide chasm still feels like a dream, a scene from a fairy tale, hard to belief, and easy to dismiss, as fantasy. Yet they tell me it is real. How can it be Templar?

It seems like yesterday, that we sat side-by-side to bid farewell to another loved one. Barely three months upon my return to the U.S., and I am told the unthinkable. Templar, couldn’t you have given me just a few more months to recover? Why? Why Templar? You know what this would do to me! Nothing! Nothing, could have prepared me for this.

First I was angry when told that you had taken ill. I even scolded and admonished people to stop spreading false rumors. I had just left you in Cameroon in good shape. I could not imagine how you could have taken ill. Helas! Those people were right, and I was the one in denial. I monitored your progress in South Africa through phone calls on a regular basis. I was told that you were doing much better, and I breathed a sigh of relief. And then the bombshell! Without a warning!

Templar, you never took me as a friend. You held me in your heart as a brother. And yes, you were my brother! We were more than brothers. Brothers argue, fight, and quarrel. For over forty years, we never quarreled. We never argued. You took upon yourself the burden of carrying out errands for me back home, in spite of your busy schedule. I still remember how you caught my eyes looking at a beautiful pen you were writing with and you smiled. The next thing you asked me was, “do you want it?” And with another smile, you handed it over to me…oh, the little unspoken things that make friendship worth living. Your generosity was legendary.  At the darkest hours of my life you were there by my side. You traveled with me by day; you traveled with me by night. You traveled with me through all the dark hours of the night to ensure that I was not left alone to bury our late mother. As you said to me, “she was a mother to me too”.

As teenagers in high school, we shared a bed in my mom’s modest home. As men, your home was my home whether in Yaounde or Bota. In the U.S., you made our house your home. The other day, I went downstairs to the room you slept in. I could not find the strength to stay longer than a minute. The loss is too much to bear and the memories hurt so much.

How can it be that you are gone? You looked so good when we met, barely four months ago… and I told you so! I even teased you, and asked if you were going for a Mr. GQ contest, because of how fit you looked in that beautifully–tailored slim Italian suit. You looked radiant, just like the young handsome “Simon Templar” we all knew when we were young.

I am reminded how your tall, elegant frame towered over everyone else, as you gracefully swayed to the rhythms of the traditional drums in Bali. You were always an incredible dancer from our teenage years. From my vantage point on stage at the microphone of “The Mighty Flames”, I could pick you out as the best dancer, bar none, among our contemporaries. We all danced to the Dance Craze of our times such as:  Walking the Dog, The Jerk, The Boogaloo (On the high Portal), The Popcorn, The Funky Chicken, etc..

A true Renaissance man you were, inspiring many to excel in every regard, be it the Arts, Sciences or Culture. You led by example as a world class physician and researcher. You were an extraordinary cook and we often joked about who was a better cook. We talked, and confided to each other our plans and aspirations just as we had always done from the days of our youth. A better friend never could I have had.

Your nicknames, “Simon Templar”, alias “The Saint” derived from your love of reading the Leslie Charteris’ series of novels by the same name.  But never was a nick-name so befitting to a person! Your heightened sensibility for others made you an exceptionally generous person, always desirous to assist people live out their full life potential. In the family, my baby sister always called you “brother Saint” for I believe she, like all my other siblings; saw what I saw in you.  

Many people do not realize how much you loved Cameroon. I can testify to how many times you turned down big job offers at world class institutions simply because you wanted to build a top-notch healthcare system in Cameroon. You told me of the big dreams you had for the country…a country you loved deeply, and in which you wanted to bring about big changes and make an impact in so many ways.

I recall my concern when you were being sent to Buea, after all the years as Dean of the leading Medical School (CUSS), in Yaounde. You smiled and reassured me that it was the dream of your life to start a new School of Medical Sciences from conception. You wanted to leave on it the imprimatur of all the knowledge you acquired around the world.  You had big dreams for the school. Your level of excitement showed indeed that this was a wish come true for you. And when you explained your vision to me, I was left in awe. Your concept of a School of Medical Sciences was world class, and could have been the best in Africa. You informed me how hard you were going to fight to get funding to build the school.  Unfortunately as high as your expectations were, so was your disappointment at the painful roadblocks and frustrations that you would have to overcome to achieve this dream. I can still see the deep disillusionment you felt when you recounted to me all your frustrations. I had never known you to give up on anything. When finally you did, I was happy for your health, because the situation was taking a toll on you.

Templar, we have mourned, and the wailing has drained all the energy in us. Our voices are fading, not because the pain has gone, but because we have no more strength to cry. The shock has sapped away all our strength. But Templar, I know you had prepared for this moment. Of late, you glowed with a reassuring serenity, as if to say: “I am ready Lord”. I could decipher this this new and heightened state of peace within you. Remember that very early morning at dawn, a couple of years ago in Bota, when I entered your study, to look for reading material, and to my surprise, I found you there sitting at your desk, bent forward, intensely reading and underlining passages of the Bible? You hardly noticed my presence, and I silently closed the door behind me as I left you in communion with the Good Book. I had always known you to be deeply spiritual but on that day, I knew that you definitely had embraced Christ at a point of no return. You were not someone to get involved in anything unless you had a strong belief in its outcome. That is why I shall weep no more, because I am convinced that you have been welcomed with the words: “Come good and faithful servant”, and there is no doubt that you rest blissfully forever. You gave all you had to make this world a better place, and we are thankful for what you did.

Rest in Peace, dear brother. Rest in Peace. Until we meet again.

Fraternally for ever,

Sam Buma

Ellicott City, Maryland, U.S.A.