Rev YB Gobum: Remembering a father and mother

By Katdapba Yunana Gobum

September 27, 2004 has remained a dark spot in our lives. It is a sad reminder of the loss of our father that date. I shall not bore you with the details of his travails; they are not necessary here.

Had he not died exactly 20 years ago this year, he would have been 94 years old.

He had been preceded by our mother’s on March 3, 2003. She worked in the background, particularly with us, her children, and women to support their families as a ministry.

Despite mother’s failing health as a result of a debilitating back pain, which saw her in and out of hospitals; she remained the mother any child would be proud of all seasons.

Indeed, we have always been. Any meeting of us discussing their life times, and the amount of reverence they have sown in our lives, always leaves us reeling in the nostalgia of their large presence in what we do.

The sad part as we remember them is the death of two of our older brothers, Philip and Josiah. They have more to tell if they were alive. Our joy is that, they finished well, and didn’t disappoint.

Before Hon Josiah YB Gobum went to sleep, he represented Pankshin/Kanke/Kanam in the Federal House of Representatives in 1999. His constituents should be the ones saying this, but we know, to God’s glory; he led well.

If not God, who would have thought that the son of a rural pastor could rise to such a position of prominence. Only the grace of God and the ministry of men could have sent him to that height.

Our upbringing under various roofs in different communities on mission work is instructive. He didn’t have much, but despite the pittance he got as a pastor; no father could be as passionate about education as he was, to send us all to school.

It is not about being boastful, they say pastors’ children are often in their world, working at cross purposes against their parents’ calling. They were called, all we needed was to support their ministry.

After Pastor’s College Gindiri from 1969 to 1972, the first port of call for mission work was Garga, a far flung non-descript village in Kanam. Initially, we were informed that he was on his way to Pankshin.

That did not materialise. Even though many things were considered, particularly our mother’s health. But the church is not a government parastatal, where someone’s influence could cancel a transfer.

His posting to Garga as first Pastor was fun. It was more fun when it dawn on us that to get there in those days, the truck was only available on a Thursday, being Ganjuwa, a local market day.

Our station, Garga is a long distance from Dengi, the local government headquarters. If there was no truck (gongoro), the only alternative was to trek the whole hog. No one wanted to miss the once-in-a- week-lorry if the need to travel arose.

We did several times; in fact, my common entrance and interview to go to form one were undertaken from Garga to Langtang on a bicycle. Tough task, but here we are some 49 years after, reminiscing the experience, and thanking God.

It was at Garga that we took farming seriously, engaging in cultivating cotton, millet, guinea corn, groundnut, maize and pumpkin. How will we not, father never relied on the church to feed him; he was born into a family of great farmers.

We discovered on coming to Garga, that the people were receptive. The Hakimin Garga, Alhaji Muhammadu Bawa was on the throne on our arrival. He loved people and together with his people, made our stay well documented and memorable until 1978, when another transfer was effected to Pankshin.

The church was neatly bonded, thanks to the different nationalities that had settled there. They came from Mushere, Ngas, Ron Kulere, Mwaghavul and Jhar.

The present Hakimin Garga, Alhaji Garba Muhammadu Bawa, is like his father. Meeting him last year, 2023 at Dogon Ruwa sparked feelings of a lost and found brother. He recalled all the names of my siblings without difficulties thanks to the bond built by his late father.

The house of one of the famous Islamic teachers resident at Garga, Mallam Ali Dandak as others were opened to us. Today, he and his children, as many others still consider us part of Garga. No society can exist without a mutually beneficial relationship.

Christmas or Sallah celebration in Garga was fun. The fact that we were always dressed in khaki shorts without a shoe did not draw attention; rather, we reveled thanking God in it and used same when school resumes in January.

Exchange of food items at Christmas and Sallah between adherents of the two religions was infectious. The dance procession from Ungwan Mission to the Hakimi’s Palace was a spectacle to behold each year.

We were born six, from a union that was contracted in 1952. Five happy boys and an ever smiling girl, Matan Kawu, Suzanne. She got married early enough in life, and made up for her education later.

Her husband, Michael Bilgas, a prince of the Dimlong family, buried himself in civil service work and evangelism, until life was snuffed out of him by an enemy’s bullets during one of the crisis in 2018 in Jos.

Simon (Saminu), Malam Dogo, God helping him has remained constant in nursing and church work. He, it was, who insisted at some point that because the church choir members were always not on time, he would rather pull out.

He did. Back in the day in Pankshin, he bought a talking drum to be used during Christmas and New Year church dances. With several church members, they would sing and dance round Pankshin until the early hours of the morning.

Kichime, the last of the six has been a footballer, coach, politician and social worker rolled into one. God also gave him a distinct ability to pick herbs for various ailments, a trade our father also built on without any formal training.

If these have not affected lives, his training in agriculture must have led many on the path of profitability at home and on large scale farming business across some communities.

As we grew, some cousins and other children were brought to live with us. All we were told by our parents was, they were our siblings. None of us bothered to ask where some of them came from. Indeed they became part of us, nonetheless, and we lived happily with each one of them.

There are still living wonderful cousins whose love for the Gobum family transcends just mere talkenism; they are a collection you can’t throw away. We are fond of them, just as they are of us.

Now we know better; the world can only grow better, if love goes around. They both love people to a fault, and expected nothing in return, because God is love himself.

Gender was not a consideration for whatever form of chores with our mother. Everyone of us went to the farm; cook; wash plates and clothes for the siblings; pounded and sieve grains; and to be fair, no one had room to complain, except when ill.

We have always relished in the fact that both parents are ‘still alive’. After all, each time we meet anyone who knew them, they also relish their different perspectives of who they were to them.

Come to think of it, what better memories can a son or his siblings keep of their parents than what people tell us of their impact in their lives and of communities, where they worked?

Our father was the radio man of the house; as he listened to news all day long, except if he was asleep. In fact, he was always with a transistor radio, sometimes even on the farm.

Indeed he was instrumental for me going into journalism. I knew each local and international radio stations as early as in primary school. I recall that in Pankshin, he would insist I buy a newspaper each day; even if it meant I stayed hungry.

Has anyone come asking for a record of an event in the past from him and did not get it? That was not possible; he kept every detail of any major event anywhere he was.

Not one event passed without entering his record book. Whether it was rain, accident , harvest, vaccination, birthday and visit, he recorded such. No wonder, our birthdays were never concocted.

From Tabulung, to Gyanggyang, COCIN Bible School Boi, Gindiri, Garga, Manung (Pankshin), Vel Fwor, Ballang Kalep, Ballang Shipang, Duk, Bwarak, Tambes, Chigwong, Dungung and Mwel, he was ever present.

Starting from Lerpye, Rong, Kubut, Gyanggyang as far back as 1959, it has been tempestuous in charting a course for all the local congregations. He was with his people at Tabulung from 1966 to 1969. Nevertheless, the story is not all negatives, it is one that makes us proud.

Planting churches became a grace that did not fail him. A host of other places, God gave him the grace to plant churches but were not limited to Gajin Duguri, Zalli, Yalun, Dada, Kyaram, Gyembau, Yuli, Angwan Gyero and Gyangyang all in Kanam.

Where they existed, he visited to encourage and making new friends; that we are today beneficiaries of those relationships built over the years. Even if the benefit were not monetary, I am able to confirm that his investment in people far outweigh what will be put in the pocket.

I am aware it was tasking and discouraging particularly in Pankshin in those days where a new initiative was always viewed from the prism of territorial enlargement.

No wonder, such efforts were literally frustrated, insisting as we often heard, ‘why do we need to go outside Manung. What we have is enough to accommodate us.’

It is history today, there are numerous COCIN congregations scattered in Pankshin town, for instance, and even needing more, if the church wanted to.

Being at Manung (Pankshin) from 1978- 80, and Bible School Fwor as its Principal from 1980-85, our lives changed in different directions. Five of us were all in school, while Philip was long gone in 1976.

God opened a door for a bank job for me in 1980 at the Pankshin branch of Bank of the North Ltd. Even while I was on its payroll, I went to the School of Preliminary Studies, Keffi, and later transferred to Maiduguri; from where I left for studies in Zaria.

God laid in the heart of Mallam AA Abdulmalik, my manager then to assist me. That intervention helped sustain me while in my undergraduate studies.

We do not beat our chests. He was doing the work of His Master who had called him from pagan worship to the Kingdom. God is our witness, if we have added other extraneous details to his work.

Going through his tour of duty was an experience a pastor would love to have. The joy that you had congregations eager for the word was enough to cheer him on. The fact that new grounds were yet to be conquered, brought about the winning mentality.

It showed in virtually all the places he was transferred to. The local politics of the people was not a business he got involved in. It was mission work he was concerned about.

One day before the 1979 elections, since I have never heard him talk about politics, I asked him naively, thinking since one of the church elders, Nde Yakubu B Chigwong was an influential member of the NPP, he should be supporting that party or another. Since then, I knew that as a pastor they belong to all.

By the time they left Dungung in 1993 (having lived there from 1985-93) on transfer to Tabulung his place of birth, we knew it was time to prepare for retirement from active service in 1996. Dungung became a home we always dreamt to return to: Good people and hospitable to a fault.

Apart from his pastoral duties, he was found worthy to serve in other sensitive positions such that the ministry will not suffer. They included, but were not limited to RCC Secretary, Secretary Medical, Treaurer and leader of Extension Bible School etc.

On December 8, 1996, he retired from the services of COCIN. His later years were dedicated to teaching and reconciling people and communities. By then, we had come of age, but they were ever present in our activities. He knew why; as children, we could always be children.

He was brought home to finish what he had started. It was a home coming of some sort, of a son of the soil. He knew the terrain and very much understood the assignment back at home.

Tabulung may have been quiet but they had lots of friends. They were mostly children who found his company rewarding. They left their homes in droves early morning to visit ‘Khe Raskang’; a name they commonly called him with.

He taught them lots of things, just as we also learnt from them. Since they found him loving, they ate his food, played and slept on the stone pavement outside the house. They stayed long hours until their mothers or older siblings came to collect them.

Most remember, and identify us whenever we meet, as children of ‘Khe Raskang’. That, in itself is reassuring of the bond between them and us.

In our hearts, we are aware God has been merciful; keeping his promises to sustain and fully aware that his ‘goodness and mercy shall follow me (us) all the days of my life (our lives): and I (we) will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever’.

We know God’s plans will never fail. Only him has been our Ebenezer, and only he could have brought us this far.