W. B. Ofuatey-Kodjoe
by admin
Robert Biondi
During Ofuatey’s tenure as Executive Officer of the Ph.D./M.A. Program in Political Science, I worked with him as his Assistant Program Officer from 1999 to 2003. On my first day on the job, I asked him how he wanted to be addressed. He said “you can call me Ofuatey, or Kodjoe, or even Professor Ofuatey-Kodjoe. Never call me Wentworth.” When I asked why, he said, “Would you like it if your first name was Wentworth?” So right away I learned that Ofuatey was a man who did not stand on ceremony.
Ofuatey was a proud man. He was proud of his accomplishments, of his culture, and of his family. Yet he was also a modest man. In relation to his faculty, the role of an Executive Officer is very much the first among equals, and this is how Ofuatey interacted with his colleagues. I would say that the love he inspired among his students will become legendary. In relation to me, Ofuatey pretty much gave me free reign in managing the office. He always entertained my ideas as to how we could improve management of the program, and there was great synergy to our relationship. Of course there were times when Ofuatey and I disagreed, but in any good working association, it’s natural. The key factor to our relationship was the knowledge that, during a crisis, Ofuatey and I would back each other up.
Ofuatey did not know how to be false, and he did not suffer gladly duplicity in others. Once, during a particular situation in the program, he brought that massive fist of his down on his desk and demanded: “Why must everyone around here be so political?!?” To which I replied: “Well, we are political science.” To which he responded with his usual hearty laugh. So during the four years I worked with Ofuatey, I learned that while it’s important to take one’s studies seriously and to take one’s job seriously, it’s just as important not to take one’s self too seriously, and even certain situations.
A few years ago my wife, Kim, and I talked about what factors contribute to a person’s legacy. We agreed that academic and professional achievements are certainly important; we called this the Earthly Legacy. But Kim and I also spoke about something we called the Humane Legacy – which is how a person interacts with other people on a daily basis, and how that person is respectful of others, inspires others, challenges people to do their very best and most vital of all – how that person conducts themselves with honor. Kim and I agreed that no matter how impressive the achievements of a person’s Earthly Legacy, it is that person’s Humane Legacy that is more important. So, by virtue of his Earthly Legacy, we know Ofuatey will be remembered as a leader in his field, and by his Humane Legacy he will continue to inspire a great many people. And as I said to Kim: “No man can truly die if his Humane Legacy lives on in others.”
Ruth O’Brien
Sitting at Ofuatey’s memorial last spring, I was struck by how all the stories had the same ring to them, a ring that struck me as very true — almost resonating with his deep bass voice — true because it was the same story for me. Thus, I wanted to contribute to the chorus about this remarkable man.
First, I will never forget where I was the day I first met him – where I was standing, what time of day it was, what he was wearing or how small I felt next to him in his commanding, elegant Ghanian attire. Ofuatey had that affect on you. My sons still remember him, though they met him only fleetingly. My mother too.
And, I will never forget the lessons he taught me. He used to sit Sherrie Baver and me in his office. He would sit on the two relatively big cushioned chairs and pontificate. Sherrie and I would both sit on the edge of our seats, listening hard, soaking it all up. Sometimes we would have a spirited disagreement, punctuated with laughter and Ofuatey’s fist pounding.
In just a quick, but profound line or two, he would offer us these assessments about people— faculty, administrators, and students alike — that were so stunning you’d have to go home and process them for awhile. You didn’t always get them at first, but then it just came to you how right he was…
It was also the way he was — his personality so big and booming, the political science office always had such an incredible atmosphere. I can still feel it.
When I disagreed with Ofuatey, he was vociferous. One thing I remember most was the time that I said something about how administration was not for me. He said “NO,” in his adamant way. Ofuatey thought I had something — he insisted on it — but it would take a lot more, and I’d have to show a lot more dedication, get that polish. Come to think of it, I never did quite acquire it.…
Ofuatey planted that very first seed. He was a marvelous mentor, a wonderful tutor, an inspiring leader. He was also someone you didn’t always agree with, but a man who brought great meaning into my life.
Irving Leonard Markoviz
Ofuatey was always there when I needed him. Each and every time that I was in the hospital — broken ankle, broken hand, gall bladder and pancreas — Ofuatey did not wait for an invitation; he was at my bedside. We all know that Ofuatey has been there when students needed him. In my over thirty years of teaching at the Graduate Center I have never seen an executive officer so dedicated to the fulfillment of his duties as Ofuatey. He was constantly available to students. He went in to the office on Saturdays, Sundays, hot summer days and storms in winter. He put aside his own scholarship. He taught extra courses because of student expectations and interests. He helped students stay in the program and to finish their dissertations. A number of students e-mailed me upon learning of his death to say “You know, he is the reason that I stayed in the program.” It is easy to speak good of the dead. To say nice things is a virtue. However, I am not sure that Ofuatey would have liked too much uncritical adoration. At some point close to the beginning of these eulogies for him, he would lose patience. He would say “What kind of stuff is this? Why are you carrying on like that?”
Ofuatey was not a meek little lamb. He was not always content to mind his own business. He was in many ways — difficult. He was tough, he was demanding, he was stubborn.
But that is part of who he was. To think otherwise is to not do him justice. It is to not take him as he was: a complicated person who demanded that he be accepted by others as himself.
To celebrate Ofuatey’s life, we do not want the easy love of innocent ignorance.
For nine years Ofuatey was the Executive Officer of the Political Science Program. For those nine years I was a member of the executive committee. For nine years we fought like cats and dogs over many issues, over changing the nature of the first exam, over eliminating the methods requirement, over hiring priorities . Frequently, particularly during the last three years, our arguments would become very intense and our voices very loud. On at least one occasion, people came running in from the hall to see what was the matter.
And after all the screaming and yelling, we never “made up.” We never apologized. We never reconciled. Why? Because there was nothing to make up about, or apologize about. We always took up where we had left off. And where we had left off, and where we had begun, was from an unspoken understanding, an instinctive sense that we both ultimately wanted the same thing, whether it was the good of the program, or the good of Ghana. We stood on the same foundations. We had the same goals. And we each intuitively understood how we could differ, and yet still be together.
His great sense of humor — not only for grandfather jokes, but his wicked enjoyment especially of hypocrisy exposed, or mendacity on display — would cause him sometimes to giggle, but other times to explode in uncontrollable laughter.
Ofuatey came from one of the leading Ga fami-lies of Ghana. His mother, who I had the privilege of knowing, was a leading figure in the nationalist struggle against the British. She was a major supporter of Kwame Nkrumah, the George Washington of Ghana. She founded the national women’s organization, and was later recognized by, among other things, having her picture on a Ghanaian postal stamp.
There was about Ofuatey a certain generosity of spirit and of hospitality that is also true of his family. My son, Jonathan, who learned to walk in Ghana, and especially Amy, my daughter, who was older, remember to this day the enveloping warmth of Ofuatey’s family, of his Mother and his older sister when we were their guests in Accra.
Ofuatey himself could easily have played an important official part in Ghanaian politics. Ofuatey always felt guilty, I think, that he had not been more involved. He sent his children back to Ghana frequently. His dearly beloved son, Nene, who passed away so tragically so recently, attended his alma mater high school, Achimota, probably the best school of its kind in Africa, where he was incidentally a school mate of our own Kwame Akonor.
Ofuatey was a scholar. His scholarly work will endure. There is in all of Ofuatey’s writings above all, a sense of obligation to the pursuit of social justice. There is, secondly, a deep love of country, of Ghana, and of a profound dedication to the ideal of Pan-Africanism. There is, also, a commitment to the search for truth, and a critical stance towards authority.
Most academics who write can b secure in the knowledge that few people will read what they have to say. Now I am not saying that Ofuatey had huge audiences. However, a few of the people who did read what he had written would have been able to put him into uncomfortable places, or to do far worse. Ofuatey always knew that, and it never stopped him from saying what he felt was necessary.
Ofuatey dreamed of a Ghana that minimized the gap between the rich and the poor; a society in which ethnic and class barriers were effectively eliminated; and where people were not driven into a “culture of silence.’”One person who never submitted to the culture of silence was Ofuatey Kodjoe.
Compassion, empathy, determination, strength of character — part of a mosaic that included stubbornness, persistence, obstinacy — made Ofuatey not merely a good friend, but an extraordinary human being.
We should have no reluctance to take Ofuatey as he was. He was a person like no other.
None of us are self-made. We all depend on others. We are formed not just by the memories we have but by all sorts of encounters. I remember Ofuatey’s thoughtfulness, his kindness, his generosity. We get to know and to appreciate, and if are lucky — to love somebody, not all at once, but bump by bump, through those good and bad episodes over time.
I count it a privilege to have been Ofuatey’s colleague, sometimes his challenger, always his friend.
Joseph Rollins
It is with a great sense of honor that I announce on behalf of the Political Science program the establishment of an award in W. B. Ofuatey-Kodjoe’s name. In addition to serving as our program’s Executive Officer from 1994 – 2003, Kodjoe established himself as a distinguished authority in the areas of international and comparative politics, Pan-Africanism, international law, and human rights. In order to ensure that the tradition of study exemplified by Kodjoe’s scholarship continues at the Graduate Center, the award will be given in future to outstanding, advanced students conducting research in the fields of International Relations, Comparative Politics and/or human rights, the same scholarly pursuits to which Ofuatey dedicated his academic career. Details concerning amounts of money associated with the award, criteria to be established in the selection process and the timing of its release have yet to be determined. As soon as these details become public, the Program in Political Science will follow up with a formal announcement.
