Not The Bully You Think, But A Jolly Good Fellow With Love For Humanity And God

By King Onunwor

Monday, March 2, 2026, at exactly 10 a.m., there will be no clinking of glasses, no glittering chandeliers, and no ornate banquet hall filled with rehearsed tributes.

Instead, at Christ Army Church Nigeria in Kono, Khana Local Government Area of Rivers State, a man , Pastor Jerry Needam many have misunderstood will be on his knees before the altar.

That image captures him better than any headline ever could.

For decades in Port Harcourt’s restless media landscape, Pastor Jerry has cut the figure of a hard man — stern face, commanding presence, voice edged with authority. To the unfamiliar eye, he looks every inch a bully.

But journalism, like life, demands deeper reporting.

Those who have worked with him know a different portrait: a jolly good fellow, quick to laughter, dependable in crisis, stubborn only in defense of principle.

He is a dodged fighter not in the sense of evasion, but of survival.

Rivers State’s media terrain in the late 1990s was anything but friendly. Political crosscurrents were fierce. Economic survival for independent publications was uncertain.

Many talented practitioners chose safer paths.

He chose risk: Around 1999, he established the National Network, a local tabloid that would soon become a bold voice in Rivers journalism.

It was more than a newspaper. It was a declaration of independence.

At a time when routine news writing and conventional reporting defined the practice, he introduced robust alternatives — community-driven narratives, analytical depth, human-angle reporting, and fearless editorial positioning.

He understood that viability in journalism was not merely about circulation figures; it was about relevance.

And relevance demands courage.

Through the pages of the National Network, he navigated journalism politics with unusual dexterity. He broke even where many broke down.

There were threats.

There were dark nights when uncertainty pressed heavily.

There were moments when his life hung in delicate balance.

Yet he stands today at sixty not by luck, but by what he openly calls mercy.

“I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.” Psalm 118:17.

To him, sixty is not an achievement to flaunt. It is grace to acknowledge.

His journey mirrors the disciplined newsroom tradition long associated with The Tide Newspaper firm standards, editorial courage, and an unwavering belief in the watchdog role of the press. Yet he carved his own distinct identity.

Colleagues speak of his determination.

Younger journalists recall his mentorship.

Competitors admit, sometimes reluctantly, that he expanded the space for independent media practice in Rivers State.

And beneath the tough exterior lies a man deeply anchored in faith.

“If God be for us, who can be against us?” — Romans 8:31.

For him, survival is spiritual.

His breath is God.

His victories are God.

His preservation is God.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” — Psalm 27:1.

So on his 60th birthday, before celebration, there will be surrender.

Before applause, there will be worship.

Before congratulations, there will be thanksgiving.

Pastor will stand before the altar not as a media titan counting conquests, but as a servant overwhelmed by grace.

Not the bully you think.

But a jolly good fellow.

A determined fighter.

A dependable colleague.

A lover of humanity.

A believer unashamed of his God.

And in the annals of Rivers State journalism, his story will endure not merely as a publisher who survived the odds, but as a man who made the practice viable, vibrant, and, above all, meaningful.

Happy Golden Jubilee, Boss.

Onunwor, is a Corespondent With The Tide Newspaper