Opata Mate-Kole – He carried himself as a prince: he was a Prince.
We met so many inspiring seniors when we entered university, and we learnt so much from them. In the late 1960s, protests by students swept across the world; it was as if university students had suddenly become empowered and were protesting against authority. It was also the time for civil rights politics, with many students in Africa now conscious of black power and solidarity with the civil rights movement of African Americans. My initiation, or rather baptism, into university life was barely two weeks into October 1968 when we were all sent home for fomenting a riot at the University of Ghana.

For those of us interested in politics and in learning about the world, there were few newspapers around that satisfied our passion. But there was a place where we could go to learn from the senior students. The Legon Hall Common Room was the place where several of the older students, who were more in touch with world affairs, held court in discussions and debates. So some of us who were not Legon Hall Main Hall students gravitated to this place instead of the cafeteria bar because we were residents in the annexes.

That was where I met Opata Mate-Kole for the first time. Motiobiadja was his catchphrase, but most called him by another Dayan. He was knowledgeable about world affairs and could hold his own on almost any political topic of the time, with incisive analysis of events, delivered confidently.

Opata was suave, witty, and had a fine turn of phrase, a bon vivant if ever there was one. There was so much that I learnt from these debates to supplement the dated foreign news that I picked up from TIME and Newsweek Magazine, which was our fare of world news.
Often, the discussions would turn to the political reconstruction in Ghana. The National Liberation Council, the military junta, was handing over to a civilian government, and a civic education programme had been established in the country. Opata, as one of the erudite seniors, was instrumental in inviting Dr Busia, the head of that outfit, to the university. What I did not know then was that Opata was flying the flag for the old-time UP, and I was very surprised when what we thought should have been a lecture on civic education ended up as a campaign speech for political power.

After university, we met several times, always in discussion mode, then lost touch for a while. I was therefore pleasantly surprised when, in 1996, I met Opata at a Ghanaian party that I attended in Harare. He was teaching in one of the private schools there, and that party became the beginning of one of the most enjoyable periods in my life.
He knew everyone that there was to know in the country. Through him, I met some old-school friends and several other Ghanaians. It was like I was back at home, and though I lived on premises provided by the organisation I worked for. He turned himself into my host and opened his house for me. His generosity knew no bounds; he provided for all my social needs, showed me where to shop, and even decided where I could go to have a haircut. His daughters, Darley and Angmorkour, in addition to helping with my every need, brought me up to speed about the traditions, history, and culture of the place.

It was like I was back at university, though my views were better formed, but here was my old-time erudite senior, and I was still learning from him, learning about the politics of Zimbabwe, the main actors, and the alignments in the region. These were all spiced up with the insight of the late Atukwei Okai, the poet who was visiting from Ghana.
He gave himself to his friends, he imparted knowledge, and as a good conversationalist, there was not a single moment of boredom when he was around.

The last time I spoke to him was last year. We had one of those never-ending conversations about his return to Ghana and his retirement to his hometown of Krobo Odumase, and how he missed the cut and thrust of political debate and the company of friends that he would spar with who had passed. His spirit of launching into a good discussion never left him.

Opata, ever the gentleman that he was, preferred the simple life; he connected with friends and was always selfless to a fault. I remember that he always carried himself as a prince with the decorum of a royal court, but that was because he had been trained well. He was a Prince.

May the ancestors welcome him with open arms, his duties on this life duly fulfilled, and may his soul rest in perfect peace in the Lord.
Rest well Opata – Motiobiadja
Yaa wo ojogbann

Ade Sawyerr
Croydon March 2025