RHON­DOR DOWLAT

Se­nior Re­porter

rhon­dor.dowlat@guardian.co.tt

A man of qui­et strength is how mur­der vic­tim Kam­bon Omowale is be­ing re­mem­bered by his son Ki­mani.

Omowale, the son of Lidj Ya­su Pi­ankhi Omowale, af­ter whom the Ya­su Omowale Eman­ci­pa­tion Vil­lage was named, was among five peo­ple who were gunned down while at a shop in Priz­gar Lands, Laven­tille, on De­cem­ber 29.

The killings were sus­pect­ed to be a re­venge at­tack af­ter the mur­der of 34-year-old Trevor Williams out­side the Besson Street Po­lice Sta­tion the day be­fore.

At the fu­ner­al ser­vice at OP Allen Fu­ner­al Di­rec­tors in San Juan, yes­ter­day, Ki­mani opened his eu­lo­gy with a heart­felt trib­ute to his fa­ther, high­light­ing what he would al­ways re­mem­ber him for.

“I will al­ways re­mem­ber my fa­ther for the wis­dom, the qui­et strength, and the un­con­di­tion­al love he showed me every sin­gle day. His pres­ence was a com­fort­ing con­stant in my life, even in the mo­ments when we didn’t speak much. Now that he’s gone, I re­alise just how much I took for grant­ed. But I take com­fort in know­ing that, be­fore his pass­ing, he lived life to the fullest—he trav­elled, he laughed, and he con­tin­ued to be the spir­i­tu­al man I looked up to,” Ki­mani said.

Ki­mani re­vealed his fa­ther’s im­pact on his life, ex­plain­ing how the qui­et mo­ments they spent to­geth­er shaped who he was be­com­ing as a man.

“Our bond was un­spo­ken but deep. We didn’t al­ways com­mu­ni­cate the way oth­ers might ex­pect a fa­ther and son to, but I know he loved me, and I loved him. There were those long phone calls where we would de­bate, chat, and laugh. I cher­ish every one of them now, know­ing that I nev­er imag­ined I’d be stand­ing here, say­ing good­bye so soon,” Ki­mani said.

As he spoke, Ki­mani re­flect­ed on his fa­ther’s phys­i­cal and spir­i­tu­al strength. He proud­ly de­scribed how his fa­ther em­bod­ied pro­tec­tion and wis­dom through­out his life, even though his qui­et de­meanour of­ten made it easy to over­look.

“My fa­ther was the strongest man I know—phys­i­cal­ly, emo­tion­al­ly, and spir­i­tu­al­ly. He had this way of mak­ing you feel safe, of know­ing you were nev­er alone. His love for his fam­i­ly, his wis­dom, and his guid­ance are gifts I will car­ry with me for­ev­er. I know he was loved by so many, and as we gath­er here to­day, we’re re­mind­ed of the lives he touched. And even in his fi­nal mo­ments, I know he was at peace with his faith, know­ing his eter­nal fu­ture was se­cure with our Lord.”

The fam­i­ly was left in deep re­flec­tion as Ki­mani shared his mem­o­ries, each one filled with pro­found love. He then re­called a piv­otal mem­o­ry from his child­hood—a mo­ment of vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty when his fa­ther took him to get his first hair­cut, for­ev­er mark­ing the deep con­nec­tion they shared.

“I was on­ly five years old, but I re­mem­ber it like it was yes­ter­day. My fa­ther took me to get my first hair­cut, and af­ter it, he did some­thing that al­ways stuck with me—he took that hair and put it in­to his locks, say­ing I’d al­ways be a part of him. That mo­ment was just the be­gin­ning of a life­time of mem­o­ries. He was al­ways there for me, whether it was to watch my bas­ket­ball games or just to share a qui­et mo­ment.”

The trib­ute al­so high­light­ed Omowale’s pro­tec­tive na­ture, as his fam­i­ly and friends re­count­ed how he stood up for those he loved.

“Kam­bon was al­ways pro­tec­tive, al­ways watch­ing out for the peo­ple he cared about. I re­mem­ber one time, we were at the skat­ing rink, and some rude guys were mak­ing dis­re­spect­ful com­ments. With­out hes­i­ta­tion, Kam­bon stood up, and those guys quick­ly learned what it meant to mess with some­one he loved. That was Kam­bon, fierce­ly pro­tec­tive, al­ways ready to stand up for the ones he loved,” one of Kam­bon’s friends said dur­ing the ser­vice.

The in­ter­ment took place at the Lapey­rouse Ceme­tery in Port-of-Spain.