In the quiet grace of Ugep, the Governor of Cross River State did what few moments in power truly demand—he bowed. Not to politics, nor to ceremony, but to a man whose life had already etched itself into the very conscience of the state. Professor Ibiang Oden Ewa was not just a scholar of military politics; he was a custodian of wisdom, a craftsman of service, and a steady flame in the wind-tossed corridors of public life. His bow was a salute to decades spent shaping minds, nurturing communities, and giving his voice to the kind of counsel that outlives applause.
The bow was for a man who walked through life like a bridge—built strong enough to bear the weight of others, yet humble enough to disappear into the landscape once they had crossed. In classrooms, he taught the discipline of thought; in public service, he taught the discipline of heart. His pen did not just record history—it pressed seeds into the soil of tomorrow. In Professor Ewa’s world, knowledge was never a trophy; it was a torch, and he held it high without fear of the shadows it revealed.
But perhaps the deepest reason for the Governor’s bow lay in the way this torch was passed. Professor Ewa’s light did not dim at the close of his life; it leapt into the hands of his son, Hon. Oden Ewa, Commissioner for Special Duties and Intergovernmental Affairs – who now walks the same road of service with the same steady steps. To die empty is not to leave with nothing—it is to leave having given everything. In his son, we see not just resemblance, but replication—a living proof that a father’s true legacy is not in monuments, but in men who rise from his teachings and carry the fire forward.
READ ALSO: As The Bekwarra Legislative Council Moves To Name Youth Center After Ukan
There, in that moment, the Governor’s bow became a bow for the future—a recognition that service, when done well, becomes a family heirloom. It is passed not in gold, but in grit; not in crowns, but in calloused hands that keep building. The professor’s life was a poem, and the final verse was written not by his own pen, but by the son who now runs with his unfinished lines, ensuring the rhyme continues and the meaning deepens.
So we leave this story not with sorrow alone, but with the rare joy of knowing that the baton was not dropped. The race continues, the light still burns, and the bridge still stands. For some men, death is the end of the road; for Professor Ewa, it was only the moment he stepped aside, smiling, to let his son – Hon. Oden Ewa run ahead.
