I was standing in my kitchen cooking dinner for friends when I heard of the sad passing of Komla Dumor. The announcement followed a short news bulletin in the middle of BBC 6music’s usual programming of Saturday night funk and soul.

I wasn’t really listening, and I just caught the single sentence about his death above the din of a Saturday night with a few beers and a few friends. It seemed incongruous to mention the death of a television journalist in a 30 second clip usually reserved for the most significant global news stories. I wondered why had this bit of sad news reached my ears in this way.

Now I see that this was the BBC reacting to this loss of one of its own and providing a fitting tribute in the only way it can. Komla Dumor had died aged 41, and as his last act, had become the news he had reported with such clarity and honesty.

For a couple of minutes I was too shocked to speak, a strange and unusual condition for someone with a generally cynical outlook and no particular personal connection to the guy in question.

I recalled my meeting with Komla Dumor in November last year.

I was attending an awards ceremony with a Ugandan colleague of mine and Komla was the keynote speaker. I had never heard of him, but the excitement of my colleague Ronald, as he came to the stage, left me in no doubt that this guy had some kind of star power.

In excited whispers Ronald told me that Dumor was the presenter of the BBC News show Focus On Africa, a daily live programme broadcast across the continent. Dumor was a big name anchor who was recognised in thousands of homes across Africa.

Komla speaking at the Guardian International Development Awards ceremony in London in November

And he certainly looked the part. Well over 6ft with an immaculately tailored Saville Row suit and thick rimmed spectacles he exuded a particular kind of gravitas, mixed with a youthful humour and excitement. When he opened his mouth his booming baritone voice echoed around the hall and, very quickly, everyone was enthralled by his short speech. He was so imposing that he seemed to fill the stage and dwarfed the event host, and TV news legend, Alistair Stewart, not a man who is usually to be found in anybody’s shadow.

Dumor spoke for a few minutes, about Africa, his career as a journalist, early life in Ghana, and even managed to drop in his well worn anecdote that his grandfather had written the Ghanain national anthem.

Afterwards, and in more detail, Ronald told me that anyone who was anyone watched the Focus Africa and Dumor was, in his own way, one of the most famous and recognisable men on the continent.

I’m not sure how true this was, but if Ronald’s giddy excitement was anything to go by it was accurate. “Well, let’s go and introduce ourselves” I said. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly” replied Ronald, “what would I even say?”

I insisted that, as a networker, this was too good an opportunity to miss, and we went over to say hello.

Komla Dumor (left) and Ronald Mukasa of Enterprise Uganda

So far, so normal in the story of an interaction with a celebrity. Spot them, shuffle over towards them, stand around and wait till he finishes talking to the last fan, catch their eye, say a few words, snap a photo and move on. This is what I expected, but it was not what Komla Dumor delivered.

Playing a supporting role in this meeting, I introduced the two men from opposite sides of Africa. Komla Dumor, with his booming voice and wide smile, took Ronald’s hand with both of his and shook it vigorously, “Welcome to London brother, how are you finding it so far?”

They chatted for a few minutes, and even then I was struck with the warmth and enthusiasm with which he spoke to us, just two more people in a line of strangers that felt like they knew him, felt some ownership of his personality.

When Komla found out Ronald was a fan of the Focus on Africa, he nonchalantly asked if we would be interested in visiting the BBC studio the following day to watch the show go out live to tens of millions of people.

“Sure, not a problem, just give me your phone, I’ll give you my number and call me when you get to the front desk.” It is no exaggeration to say that Ronald was so excited that he had trouble finding his phone and I had to provide mine.

The next day we arrived at the BBC and Komla came out to meet us and whisked us inside, past the organised tour groups and staff and into the huge news studios off Regent Street in Central London.

As we walked through the famous studio floor I began to feel that we were in the presence, and even the personal entourage of someone pretty special. Everywhere we went that day people, from the producer to the make up ladies, were greeting, bear hugging and high fiving Komal warmly.

His undeniable charisma was even more powerful on his home turf and he was quite clearly adored by everyone he worked with. Reading through some of the other recollections of him online it seems this was the overwhelming impression he gave everybody he met.

Watching the live broadcast of Focus On Africa from the back of the gallery

Despite the fact that it was only 20 minutes till he was going on live television in front of tens of millions of people, he took the time to show us around the studio and introduce us to other guests and presenters. He then set us up with a prime seat at the back of the gallery to watch the show go out; we also got to watch the producer swear in technicolor when a live satellite link went dead mid interview!

After the show we were ready to leave when Komla took the seemingly unnecessary step of inviting us, as strangers, to sit in on the post production meeting, offer our opinion on the show and share in an end of the week glass of wine with the whole team.

Again it was clear that Komla was the leader, and that people gravitated around him and his huge reserves of humour and charisma. I didn't realise it at the time as he joked, but I was being treated to the famous ‘Dumor Humour.’

Later still he took us to meet some of the African language service journalists one floor down, and made a special effort to introduce Ronald to Ugandan and East African colleagues. I was really moved by this, as he showed an intuitive understanding of the need for a Ugandan guy, who had only just arrived in London, to build up networks and find communities of people from their part of the world.

Grabbing a drink with some of the Focus On Africa team after the show

I also remember, with real sadness, a moment where Komla stepped away from the chatting crowd to take a phone call. I glanced over and overheard him promising one of his young children that yes, he would be back in time to read him a story tonight.

As the tour came to an end and we headed out of the studios, I remember being blown away, not just by the exciting couple of days I had had, but by Komla himself, and ofbeing a total convert to the appeal of this great journalist and ambassador for Africa.

All these memories are what flashed through my head on Saturday evening, and made me fall silent, when I heard he had died. I had been truly moved by this guy’s kindness and impressed by the time and care he had taken over us. I meet a lot of people in my job, but few have the impact on me that Komla Dumor had.

It was no surprise, that clicking through the internet revealed an outpouring of grief over this sudden and shocking loss. From the President of Ghana, who wrote that our nation has lost one of its finest ambassadors” down to colleagues from his first radio jobs in the 80’s and 90’s, everyone was shocked by the death and saddened by the loss of “a shining light of African journalism.”

Tellingly, in 2013 he was named as one of the 100 most influential Africans by New African Magazine. In his bio they wrote: “It has been a coming of age for Kumla Dumor this year. [He] has established himself as one of the emerging African faces of global broadcasting. As a lead presenter for BBC World, Dumor has considerable influence on how the continent is covered.”

As someone who only met him fleetingly, I can’t shake the sadness of the feeling of a life cut short, of potential that will forever be left unrealised.

And it was this feeling that hits me now as I remember the last thing he said to Ronald and myself. As we took the lift up the reception to leave the building together, Komla hesitated at the last minute as we stepped out, as though remembering something, and hit the button to go back down to the studios in the basement, “I’m sorry guys” he said as the door closed, “you’ll have to make your own way out from here, I’m not ready to go yet, I have lots still to do!”

Rest in Peace Komla Dumor.