Yesterday will remain a day of sorrow in our lives, first as Cameroonians and then as Africans, because of the news of the death of Consty Eka, who closed his eyes forever, leaving behind a void that no spotlight will ever be able to fill. Cameroon loses a monument, and we stand here in disbelief, contemplating the immense shadow he leaves upon the stage of our memories. He emerged at the end of the 1980s in Yaoundé, in an art form that did not yet know his name. It was at the Crtv that he made his first appearance, with the quiet boldness of a pioneer. He created the program Noël en couleurs, and in his shows the first striking feature was the way he transformed television sets into cathedrals of light, shaking the habits of traditional TV entertainment. Where others merely occupied the screen, he chose to inhabit it. He was the second Cameroonian to leave his mark on the history of unforgettable television programs, after Télépodium by Elvis Kemayou. But Consty did not walk in the footsteps of the first; he drew his own. A creator of style through his unique presence, he revolutionized the presentation of live shows with an elegance that was almost insolent. I saw him in Gabon organizing performances of rare refinement. I was seated in the audience, witnessing a perfectly orchestrated production where every gesture seemed to breathe mastery. The next day, the Gabonese press hailed him as a son of the nation. He was one of those figures adopted wherever they went, for his genius transcended borders.
The first television host to interview Omar Bongo, he already carried that aura of men who know how to speak to the powerful without ever losing their dignity. He was often called the greatest star of Cameroonian show business, and he was so without scandal or compromise. His reputation was never built on dubious affairs. It was founded on hard work, discipline, and a vision far ahead of his time. When he launched his Noël en couleurs more than thirty years ago, he was carving a path that many are still trying to follow today. Yet behind the brilliance, there was a wound. Consty Eka carried within him the painful feeling of having been rejected by his own homeland. He wanted to settle in Cameroon, to mentor that bright youth in search of role models, to pass on his knowledge and his standards of excellence. But the wind carried him elsewhere. Côte d’Ivoire gave him what his native country had not. He gave so much to Cameroon and received so little in return. Hundreds of artists owe something to Consty. Young voices of the microphone grew in the shadow of his example. Away from the cameras, I shared simple moments with him on the tennis court in front of his home in Bonanjo. He was an attentive man, capable of sensing your doubts even before you expressed them. He always found the right words to reassure you, to remind you of your worth when uncertainty surrounded you. Artist Yolande Bodiong says she remembers their conversations after her first major experience in 2017 with the television talent show MUTZIG STAR.
On the eve of the final, she had reportedly been replaced. The frustration was intense. Without an appointment, without her seeking his opinion, he approached her. He congratulated her, highlighted the quality of her work, and even shared the disappointment he felt on her behalf. He reminded her of her achievements at CANA2 INT, as if to prove that he had been following her for a long time. That day she understood that Consty Eka was a compass, a senior figure who watches over others quietly. During ceremonies where she performed, she affirms that he would discreetly offer advice on camera management and on the art of capturing the key moments of an event. He knew how to recognize talent, to name it, to encourage it without expecting anything in return. He was aware of those who stood out, even without knowing them closely, and proclaimed their worth with disarming generosity. He was a visionary. Long before our years of maturity, in the early 1980s in Paris, Constantin Ekani Mebenga Aka was already making our generation shine on the airwaves of Tabala FM, the first truly free private African radio station in the French capital. He contributed to programming and to the broadcasting of Cameroonian and African music, proudly carrying the colors of our culture. He was one of those men who turn a microphone into a drum, and a studio into a bridge between peoples. When a star like Consty Eka fades away, the pain is immense.
It is a tearing apart, a sudden nostalgia for what was still breathing yesterday, just hours earlier in Abidjan. It is the regret of not having celebrated enough, not having said enough, not having honored enough. When the one who called you by a nickname he invented departs, it is not only a person who disappears. It is a unique voice in Africa, a singular way of pronouncing your name, an irreplaceable warmth. How can this pain be named? Perhaps it is the mourning of a light. He leaves with the weight of immense love and recognition that came too late. We remain orphaned of a man who projected the image of Cameroon at the highest level, a brother who carried his country in his gaze even when he was far from it. His story has ended, but his works remain. They still breathe in our studios, in our memories, in the discipline we strive to emulate. Today, we celebrate his life more than we mourn his death. We thank this discreet king who taught us to believe in our dreams and to refine our craft. If death cannot be defeated, let it at least teach us. Let it teach us to love our stars while they shine. Consty Eka now rests in another world. But here, on this land he loved so deeply and that did not always understand him, his name will continue to resonate like a promise. The king is dead, long live the king.
