Fellow denizens of this upside-down world, brace yourselves for another tale of the cosmic jester’s cruel punchline. Alexx Ekubo, the Nollywood heartthrob who made millions swoon with his dimples and delivered lines like they were dipped in honey, has shuffled off this mortal coil at the actorly age of 40. Yes, 40. An age when most men are still trying to figure out if they should invest in a decent pair of slacks, but for Mr. Ekubo, the curtain has fallen, and the house lights have come up on the ultimate tragedy.
Now, the usual suspects from the diaspora are flooding social media with their digital tears. UK-based colleagues, with their carefully curated vowels and filtered grief, are taking to Twitter to declare how ‘deeply shocked’ they are, as if cancer is some sort of unexpected guest at a garden party. ‘We are devastated by the loss of our brother, our friend,’ they sob, while probably composing their next tweet about the price of avocados in Waitrose.
Let us pause for a moment of silence. No, make that a moment of gin. Because what else is there to do when the Grim Reaper decides to moonlight as a casting director? Cancer, that uninvited bouncer at the club of life, has once again kicked out one of the beautiful people. Ekubo, who graced our screens with his presence in films like ‘In the Name of Blood’ and ‘A Soldier’s Story’, has now become the star of a story he cannot headline. The final act, the one without a sequel.
But let us not pretend this is anything other than the universe’s mocking sense of humour. We worship these celluloid gods, build pedestals for them, and then watch as they crumble under the weight of our own mortality. Ekubo was a man who played at being superhuman, who taught us how to laugh and cry on cue, yet even he could not escape the script written by a higher, more merciless author.
And so the tributes pour in. The politicians who never knew him suddenly claim they were his ‘dear friend’. The brands that once paid him for endorsements now post black squares as if that somehow balances the karmic scales. It is a pathetic, beautiful, and utterly human parade of remorse.
In the words of some poet or another, ‘The candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long.’ Ekubo’s flame was luminous, a beacon in a sea of mediocrity. His dimples, his swagger, his ability to make a line like ‘I love you’ sound like it was freshly minted. Now, that flame is extinguished, and we are left in the darkening shadows of our own fleeting existence.
So raise a glass, dear readers. Raise it high. Not to his memory, but to the sheer absurdity of it all. To the fact that we go on, posting our own highlights, while the actors of our lives take their final bows. Alexx Ekubo has left the stage. The rest of us are just waiting for our cues.
Rest in peace, you magnificent bastard. You made us feel something, even if it was just the fleeting joy of a perfectly delivered punchline. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a bottle of gin and a black eye. The news waits for no man, but the hangover does.
