Dear Doug…(a letter I would rather not write)

CORNELIUS MUNYURWA

Now that I can’t speak with you, I am writing this letter… to tell you the things that I never had the chance to say to you,…to thank you for coming into my life, for blessing my path.

For making work so much fun, and fun, so much joy.

I write this knowing that so many have similar stories to tell about you.

Tears drown my keyboard as I write this letter while your celebration mass is streaming in the background.

So many fitting tributes and testimonies!

I couldn’t be there, so I will pay my respects and tribute to you in the only way I can.

This is a personal letter, my story, but I know it resonates with so many who celebrate your life today.

You remind me so much of my late father, (whose funeral you attended and generously contribute towards, as you have done for a myriad and more). You were both a ‘one size fits all’ – you fit in anywhere, and with anyone.

You both touched so many lives in so many different ways. You were both unique individuals, truly humble and incredibly infectious.

You both had so much LOVE, enough to go around.

There was (is) enough of you Doug, for all who knew you.

Today, many speak of your undoubted intellect; how great you were with the big deals, the big transactions and the big decision.

But I pay tribute to the ‘small stuff’, the little things that made you the amazing human being that those who knew you, cherish today.

A poignant moment stands out for me in my personal interaction with you. It was my first time travelling with you, (just the two of us), as we were leaving the DRC after some work.

As the car took off and we settled in the back seat on the way to the airport, you reached over my side, pulled my seatbelt, and clipped it into place, and said, “Let’s be safe, young man.”

At that moment, it dawned on me that you were more than just a mentor to me. In that small, insignificant moment, I was ‘introduced’ to the Doug that everyone speaks about today; caring, humble and loving.

You were a man of many colours, a man of many seasons.

A curious bundle of contradictions: gentle but firm; a leader who listened; humorous but serious; humble, yet assertive; simple, but sophisticated; competitive, yet magnanimous; you worked hard, and played harder.

Yet, with all these seemingly opposing qualities, you were the most rounded being I have had the pleasure of meeting.

Of course you were not perfect, fallible like all of us, but you were consistent in your being, in your beliefs, your resolve, and in your humbleness.

You were a mentor to many, leading by example, walking the talk….and it was a lot of talk, but you backed it up with deeds.

You literally coerced people around you into being better versions of themselves; not just at work, but in life in general.

Your calmness was unparalleled; akin to the best sportsmen. The best players seem to have more time, slow things down, and read the situations better.

Calmness is their strength, with turmoil all around them. It is the speed of thought, not of actions, that distinguishes the best.

You had all that, and more; the clarity and resolve when you needed to lead; the reassurance when we needed your support; the humility when you needed to concede.

Many will attest to this today, and many gave such testimonies when you were still with us.

You did not settle for second best. You preached how Good was the Enemy of Great, how good was never good enough, and only your best was ‘great’ enough – not just at work, but in life itself.

You empowered people, and allowed them to dream, to make mistakes, as long as they learnt from them.

I recall when you would get upset that the country operations were not listed in alphabetical order, in a document; get miffed that the company logo colours were not in the correct shade (ever so slightly), that a presentation was done in the ‘wrong’ font.

You were meticulous, with an incredible attention to detail.

‘Small things’, but nothing was spared in your pursuit for excellence; and were watching, learning. Most people know about your passion for golf and Liverpool, but you had much more.

In one year, you had the whole team take Portuguese lessons at the office, and was happy to ‘embarrass’ yourself in front of everyone, as we grappled with the language.

The one year, you introduce the weight loss competition in the office, to the benefit of many, and to much banter; The other year you spearheaded participation in the Two Oceans marathon, leading from the front and building a team from across the countries; and there was the Soccer World Cup score prediction competition that gave the team so much fun, amid fierce competition.

Many will attest to the many different ‘little things’ you did, or encouraged. You were a true “Jack of all trades…and Master of many”.

You loved a celebration, not just of your achievements, but of others’ successes, work or family, particularly the progress and successes of our children and siblings.

The wedding of a couple, the acquisition of a house or a car was always greeted with much fanfare. You were encouraging, motivating, and wanted to be involved, and be part of any celebrations.

No ‘Doug story’ is complete without mentioning the humour. Oh, that laughter at anything remotely funny, and you did not spare yourself in that either; self-deprecating humour breaks many barriers, and you were a master at that.

You were always sniffing out for a light moment in any situation. Competitive to the core, yet magnanimous; a golf game was not worth the salt without a side bet; that way, you knew people would give their best for the bragging rights – talk about ‘skin in the game’!

You were an accessible mentor, but also ‘demanded’ access into others, so that you understood them more, and serve them better.

Yes, you were a leader, not a leader who commanded, but a leader who served.

You were a man of banter.

The way you would literally ‘butcher’ my name, and many others, all in jest!

Who can forget one of your favourite phrases, “eat your lunch”, which applied in both golf and business; or the way you pronounced ‘serious’ – so many will relate.

A colleague observantly noticed that you pulled a fast one on our golf group (I am sure you have many such groups).

You are the only “Administrator’ on the group – what a way to sign off – typical Doug style. You made sure we are stuck with you for life, and we’re not complaining.

When my father passed, I knew he wanted to go, (he was 83 and ailing), and that gave us some comfort.

I know you were not ready to go, because it was your ‘Time to Serve’. But the Almighty had other plans, that you continue to serve, but in a different, higher capacity.

Alas, the things we take for granted – we can only find solace in that it’s God’s plan. I scroll through our WhatsApp messages.

I laugh and I cry; so much advice, goodwill, and so much banter. I didn’t realise I had so much tears in me, but I cry not only for myself.

I cry for the many that cry with me today; I cry for Gogo Munatsi, your siblings and your relatives, I cry for your friends and your protégés; I cry for your blood brothers Beki and Francis, (your brothers from other mothers, cut from the same cloth).

I cannot begin to imagine their sense of loss.

I cry for Mrs Munatsi and the boys. The dignity that they are showing under such an unfathomable loss is a marvel of the Lord’s work at hand.

Mrs Munatsi’s eulogy was heart-breaking, and yet heart-warming; calm, emotional, and full of strength. May the Lord be even more visible in their lives.

As we all grieve, I am calm in the knowledge that you will continue to fearlessly protect them; more so now that the force of the Lord is with you.

In losing your life, you have become larger than life itself, towering over us all, and shielding your family. Just as you sang in that beautiful rendition of “Mayebizwa amagama angcwele”, (one of your many amazing talents); “When the Lord calls the names of the righteous, my name will be there”, the prophesy has come to pass.

Just as you said to me in that poignant drive to the airport, “Be safe now, in the arms of the Lord”. You are an inspiration to many a man and woman.

I will conclude this letter with a word of hope, because that’s what you stood for. Goodbye Mr Munatsi, goodbye Nzou – Samanyanga. Vá em paz; Nenda salama, Tsamaya sentle; Muyenda bwino; Hamba kahle; Fambai zvakanaka; Go well.

Until we meet again in the glory of the Lord. Your legacy will endure the test of time, as our broken hearts find strength again through the celebration of your bountiful life.

We will fill the hole you left in our hearts with our tears, and from the flood of tears, will your legacy rise up. It’s time to sleep now, our gentle giant; SLEEP.

YNWA. Yours truly (on behalf of many a sorrowful soul).

Cornelius Munyurwa is the Group Finance Executive for Xtenda Financial Holdings Limited, a subsidiary of DBF Capital. He was previously BancABC Group Finance Executive