You must have to pardon me; I have always avoided writing anything about me, my parents and or relations. However, this must have to be because I am remembering both of them today. Had both not been called to rest, they would have been 90 and 87 respectively. I took the liberty to chronicle briefly what they went through this life, but more importantly where they led us to.

This is not a story about me, but that of my parents who, today, are remembered with the fondest memories. Despite the fact that Rev Yunana B Gobum and Nana Dinatu Y. Gobum are not alive; nothing in this life can take away the fact of the godly upbringing any child would need to make his parents go to sleep without regret.
When the lorry that conveyed me to Gindiri in 1971 got to the premises of the then Pastor’s College, where my father was one of the students, I had little knowledge of what he was going into after graduation. Before long, thank God, he had graduated along with several others and was soon going to be posted to a mission field. For me, it was chilly to think we were going to be out of that environment to an entirely new place.
Before he got into mission work, my dad had lived and worked for a white missionary in Gindiri. With my grandparents actively practicing African traditional religion, he had left Tabulung in search of a job; which the SUM missionary offered him one; having been engaged in other menial jobs as a mason and at mining sites. Areas around where planting of the church was to take place had various versions of traditional worship which he had to contend with if what he brought was to be acceptable.
It was in the course of working with the missionary that he got saved after he heard the story of Jonah and his travails. No wonder, it is understandable why he took the name Yunana (Jonah) at baptism and vowed to return home and spread the good news to his parents and people. That set the tone of what was to become his life in the years to come.
Planting the seed for the journey started at Kubut. To have him grounded in theology, he later secured admission into the Bwai Bible School at Bwai and Bayara, two famous institutions which, over time have trained several COCIN Pastors. But Gyangyang in Kanke up till today remains a special spot in the journey, having twice been the shepherd of the local church.
It must be stated, however, the method he used to be accepted in these communities to a large extent won their love to embrace Christianity. Indeed, the Boys’ Brigade as well as visiting the traditional religion practitioners; even on their farms constantly became a means through which he won their interest to ‘his religion’. From thence, there was no stopping him making inroads into the hearts of the communities’ members.
He did not only return but took the gospel with such gusto confounding those who had known him before he left the village. It was a decision well taken as he was not to regret it for a day; even despite the lack and of staying in remote areas which may not be what we humans prefer, a choice had been made; it was not for us to decide where his service would be needed.
I had come to love Gindiri; after all, Demonstration Primary School was a place any child would be proud to be. It was in an environment overlooking the river which turned out to be where we went often; even if warned, to catch our fancy as little children in the midst of older male and women. After all, where I came from doesn’t have such rivers; at best there are streams whose intensify didn’t terrify us nor put our lives in danger.
With studies done and dusted, he waited patiently as any would for his first posting, which didn’t take long to come. He was expected to report at Garga, a non-descript community which took time to establish where it was located on the map of the then Benue Plateau State. For us the children, it was going to be an experience we long have wanted; a journey none of us had an idea where the location was.
Arriving Garga Mban (London Mai Yashi), now in Kanam local government area in the thick of the night was a nightmare for a first timer. Garga was a place to be; soon we had settled down to the business of being children of the first pastor in a Muslim dominated community, and where communality was a virtue.
He was accepted soon after arrival, with the district head, Alhaji Muhammadu Bawa, being a major supporter of father’s pastoral work. He went to become the Ran Jahr and died in 2019. We soon knew several friends out of them at school and even those who went to koranic schools as much as travelling into the bush with some of them to fetch fire wood (kirare) which would be used as light to illuminate the reading ground at Alhaji Ali Dandak’s Makarantan Allo (Islamic school.) Those same friends supported us if there was anything to do for the Pastor.
He was immediately given several farmlands to cultivate and he didn’t joke with those. It was here we came face to face with the stark reality of having to take care of ourselves. My father was not a lazy man; he came from a village where farming in different crops was the major occupation of the people. If you are in the field; apart from God, one was in the jungle to survive and take care of his family, apart from tending the sheep God had entrusted in his care.
Unfortunately, it was here that our mother came down with a debilitating back pain ailment that often took her to hospitals in Vom and Jos. We watched her often in pains and we couldn’t take it away; yet God enabled her support father without complain. When it seized her, what came up immediately was whether to wait for another Ganjuwa market when only then would a vehicle be available, and or think of trekking about 40 kilometers to Dengi where a connecting vehicle would be gotten to either Pankshin or Jos. It was as a result of her constant absence that we got happily involved in taking turns to do all manner of chores. Before arriving here, all of us six; Philip, Josiah, Katdapba, Suzane, Simon and Kichinme had been brought to mother earth.
Soon, EKAS, later EKAN and now COCIN’s presence was noticeable and felt in villages such as Gyangyang, Tattumi, Zalli, Lugur, Dadin Kowa, Dadda, Gyambawu, Duguri, Kukawa, Yalun, Kyansar, Garga Kupayi and Yuli. They had started to feel the presence of the planting of the church, as nothing makes it more accommodating as to have a church close by. 
In 1978 when he was transferred, the people had gotten used to him and us and would rather not hear anything of that sort. As children it was inconceivable that a pastor should ‘leave’ his flock on transfer to another place. All we thought was he would remain there for as long as it could be, but that was not as his employers were at liberty to send him to any of its church branch.
That explained, the journey to Mannung, Pankshin was not a choice; the church desired that he went there, and so was it until 1985 when he left. If anything, it was here a number of the church’s branches were planted at the Federal College of Education, Pankshin (Bwarak), Vel and at Fwor, while one was envisaged for the Low Cost Housing Estate.
Thank God, it was done years after he had left. It was at Pankshin, that for the first time, an EKAN Pastor would stand in the Holy Cross pulpit to preach, as it was instructive in many respects. It was a move by the body of Christ at that time to unite all irrespective of which church one belonged.
The church planting didn’t go well with some people, who thought it was going to reduce the power of the church at Mannung. He had a fiery grassroots politician member like Baba Yakubu B Chigwong, who was then the Treasurer of the church on his side. Others are Mama Afiniki Mwata Zumji, Mama Asabe Maichibi, Baba Toma Danladi, Baba Francis Kade, Baba Danyaro Shikkida, Baba Silas Chigwong, Baba Sudan Dodima Korap, Baba Andarawus Taple and Mama Laraba Mafwil.
I recall that at some time in my naivety I had pestered him during the 1983 general elections to know what party he belonged to; he told me that he was not a member of any of the political party. Much later I realize why he belonged to none, knowing that since his spiritual children were members of the different parties; he had no choice than to support all by praying for them to succeed.
He was not done with Pankshin as he was later asked to ‘trek’ to Fwor, one of its suburbs to assume duty as Principal of the Bible School as well as take charge of the church. Rev Toma Yilwatda, Rev Yusuf Dudung, Rev Istifanus Finangwai were his co-travelers at the school; no wonder today we relate with Dr Nentawe Yilwatda, Benue State REC as brothers because of the relationship that existed between our parents. While at Fwor, land matters soon crept up and the school was taken to court. He would rather not hear of it, as he insisted it must be settled through dialogue; and that was done. The Bible School has since been relocated to Jarmai in Kanam LGA.
When it was time to leave Pankshin, he was expected to report at Shiwer. For inexplicable reasons, however, it didn’t come through; rather, he was asked to report at Dungung in Kanke. It was an experience some of us may never forget, for living here was in a world of its own. Many do not know that three or so days after he reported here, he stopped using reading glasses; whatever was responsible, only God can explain as our mother also stopped seeing the doctors. Healing had come.
By the time they were leaving after spending nine years, he had created an impact treating snake bite patients and women whose breast milk had effects on their babies as for anyone to think otherwise of his love for the station. The Lord provided men and means through which his ministry will find ground. He had an able Pastor in Simon Golu, father of Hon Timothy Golu, David Simon Golu; who later retired at Tabulung. They were and are still a part of us.
When Rev John Mark, then Regional Church Council intervened, at the time of the transfer, it was for Rev Alamba to replace him. My parents’ belongings were moved to the Women Fellowship building for three weeks before reprieve arrived. It was not as if he refused to leave; he was in a fix where to report to: Shiwer or stay at Dungung, as both had new shepherd.
The transfer to Tabulung was a return to a familiar turf. Khe Raskang, as he used to be called by all children who must involuntarily ‘report’ at his house every morning; indeed, the ‘son of the soil’ was back to complete his tour of duty with his kin and kiths. His retirement soon took place at Tuwan. On a daily basis back home, he encouraged his people to produce cash crops, which they took with all seriousness.
By 1996, it was time to rest and indeed it was well deserved having gone round a number of congregations engaging in the work he was called for. That continued even in retirement until the old bones started to show signs of weariness, an indication that it was time to go home. Indeed as all mortals, he went home to rest on September 27, 2004. He would have been 90 years today, just as mother 87. She had passed on peacefully on March 3, 2002.