Features
When cometh another Felix?–Tribute to a bosom friend
“When I am gone, release me, let me go.
I have so many things to see and do,
You mustn’t tie yourself to me with too many tears,
But be thankful we had so many good years.
I gave you my love, and you can only guess
How much you’ve given me in happiness.
I thank you for the love that you have shown,
But now it is time I travelled on alone.
So grieve for me a while, if grieve you must,
Then let your grief be comforted by trust.
It is only for a while we must part,
So treasure the memories within your heart.
I won’t be far away for life goes on.
And if you need me, call and I will come.
Though you can’t see or touch me, I will be near.
And if you listen with your heart, you’ll hear,
All my love around you soft and clear.
And then, when you come this way alone,
I’ll greet you with a smile and a ‘Welcome Home.’ ”
― Robert Bryndza
I am heartbroken by the loss of my bosom friend which occurred about five weeks ago. I am, however, honoured to have the opportunity to reflect on his life today.
Indeed, readers, it is very important that we acknowledge and fully experience the emotions of this moment, on which I have earmarked to say goodbye to Felix Ameni Annoh-Quarshie, my companion, my soul mate and my confidant.
It is fascinating to note that my good friend Felix might have foreseen his call to eternity before it actually occurred. As a Realist and a mystic man, I believe so, because of what my friend and brother said to me about three-quarters of a year ago.
Uncharacteristic of him, Felix stormed my office unannounced early this year with the intention of coming to congratulate me on my elevation to the position of the Editor of The Spectator last November. I recalled, vividly, something intriguing happened when he entered my new office, and I now comprehend why he did so.
At the time, I was writing a tribute of a senior colleague journalist who had passed on the eve of Christmas day, last year. Strangely, Felix walked straight to where I was sitting, ignoring my beckoning to him to sit, and corked his sharp-looking eyes at the screen of my desktop computer for a brief period.
Unexpected of him, he quietly but emotionally said: “Kwapay (as l am affectionately called), if I go (die) before you go, please, write the same intro for me in your tribute, ‘wati’.” “Why?” I asked. “Because, the poem you used as the intro for your colleague is very insightful, very discerning and very deep,” he replied with a baritone voice. I swiftly retorted, “You’re not going to die anytime soon, bro.” But, he insisted, and I gave him a weak nod.
As if by design, today, Felix’s body lies motionless at a funeral home at Haatso in Accra, awaiting burial at the Madina Cemetery next Saturday.
Felix came into my life about 45 years ago, and the first day we met, in Accra, instantly, we realised it was going to be a long journey of intimate friendship. Little wonder, we found ourselves living as neighbours at Madina a few years later. It was semi-detached apartments belonging to his mother. My parents had moved in from Burma Camp; he had relocated from a bungalow situated near Sankara Circle, where his father and stepmother, both senior police officers, and his siblings resided. Sincerely, I didn’t know it was his family property until the day he moved in to join his mother, a retired staff of the University of Ghana, Legon.
Hence, our friendship gained roots, very solid and firm to the extent that we were even sharing the same room. I nicknamed him ‘Adjei Koti’, because his Sankara-based parents were police officers; he nicknamed me ‘Kwapay’, claiming it was another name for Kwabena (we were both born on Tuesday), which I doubted, though, but accepted it to satisfy him.
Young Felix was a staff of Barclays Bank (now Absa Bank); I was a pupil teacher at Labone Preparatory School at Madina, but later enrolled at the Ghana Institute of Journalism in Accra, and passed out successfully to become a Sports Writer for Ghanaian Times. Felix introduced me to the driver of their staff bus that I was his younger brother, so he permitted me to board the bus to Sankara Circle and continued from there to New Times Corporation, near Kwame Nkrumah Circle, where I work to date.
He was not a church fan, but I managed to convince him to join me to my church, Queen of Peace Catholic Parish at Madina Old Road every Sunday for first Mass. In spite of our busy schedule, we joined one of the Madina football teams, Islamic Stars and played in the Legon-Madina Football League at the third division level. He played centre back, because he was over six feet; I played right/left half back. The blend was fluid, and it was marvellous to watch us play.
As our friendship kept growing, it suffered a setback. I vividly recollect it was a rainy Saturday evening when my parents called us to announce their decision to relocate with me to an area near Ritz Junction, on the border between Madina and Adenta. The tears that flowed from our eyes upon receiving the ‘bad’ news was so infectious that, it even compelled my mother to shed tears also
It was a tragic time for Felix and I. So this friendship, the most important things we have had in our lives, was going to crash? The invaluable love and support we got from our friendship was about to collapse? These were the questions that popped up in our minds, and it was conspicuously reflected on our sad faces as we tried to cope with the news.
However, we had the belief that, it had been ordained by the oracle, that our friendship was never to be put apart, it could only happen temporarily, but not for long. The D-day finally came, and I left with my parents for our new place.
Incredibly, a few weeks after our relocation, Felix relocated also to our area, about two minutes walk away from where we lived. Initially, my parents and I thought Felix was only joking, when he broke the news to us. But it was not an ‘April Fool’ statement he made.
Apparently, he had moved into his father’s new house, ahead of the rest of the family. We hugged each other immediately after the good news broke, and tears of joy flowed, reinforcing the bond of friendship that existed between the two of us
My narration cannot be complete, if I fail to recount how Felix decided to spend the rest of his life with Hetty, his dear wife. It all started when he was transferred to their Kotoka International Airport (KIA) branch. Hetty was a staff of M&J Travel and Tour at their KIA office. I joined Felix at the airport every working day, so we returned home together, because he worked late into the night. He worked until the last flight of the night arrived before he closed.
One evening, he expressed his intention of proposing to Hetty, if only I gave the green light. We agreed I scrutinise only her ‘vital statistics’ and give my findings and recommendation, because he knew her character already.
Apparently, he knew her, because she was a school mate of his younger sister, Jemima. According to Felix, Hetty used to pay Jemima a visit at their Sankara residence, and got to know that she was a serious ‘Chrife’ just as his sister. So, the only confirmation he needed from me was whether her ‘vital statistics’ were standard. As an experienced examiner, I inspected thoroughly, and she got full marks. Highly motivated by the recommendation, Felix expressed interest in her which she agreed. They started a serious romantic relationship before Felix took her to the altar. Their marriage was blessed with two beautiful children, Felix Jnr and Janice.
Felix was an introvert but easy-going. I am extrovert and easy-going, too. He hardly shared his secrets with friends or family members, except me.
Certainly, it is very devastating when you lose a friend, who is so close to you, to death, the inevitable. The pain of losing Felix, a man so important and special to me, cannot be overstated. Indeed, death has unfairly torn us from our lives. But I would find some relief in the fact that others have gone through a similar bereavement, and have felt the same emotions I am experiencing at the moment. Maybe, that should inspire me to feel less alone.
As Robert Southey, a poet laureate, said: “The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired.”
So, rest in perfect peace, Felix, and may the Almighty God keep you in His bosom until the last days of resurrection when we shall meet again. Amen.
By Emmanuel Amponsah
Features
The Prophet part 4
Antobam woke up with a terrible headache. He checked the time on his mobile phone, 2:30 am. “What! Where is the money?” He asked aloud. “Where are those girls? Why did I drink so much of that whisky? What were those two girls up to?” He sat up on the bed and noticed a bulge close to the pillow.
He lifted the mattress and picked up the newspaper wrappers with the neatly arranged notes. He saw the neatly written record of the value of the notes. No, those girls are not thieves.
“It was my mistake. If I hadn’t drank myself to sleep they would be here in bed with me, giving me the time of my life. Pretty girls, those two. And so loyal and honest. Tomorrow will be different.”
“I will not drink any whisky, and I will show them that I am a real man. Just then he heard the whispers. Very soon it will be time, they seemed to be saying. This is an important day.”
The gold dealer will bring lots of money. Give him some of the liquid to drink, and we will prepare him. He will do very big business, and he will give you anything you ask for. There will be more miracles and testimonies today.
Antobam smiled to himself. “I am going to be a very rich man in only a few days man. Money, power, and women. Wow! Antobam got to the grounds at 5, but there were quite a number of people waiting.
Mr Kwame Dofu was among them. He greeted them all, and they came around to shake his hand. “My brothers and sisters, I assure you that whatever your problem is, you will not go home without a solution.” Shouts of “Amen” “thank” you Osofo and “you are a true man of God” responded.
“Please take your seats, and start talking to the great one about whatever bothers you. Before the service is over, there will be a solution.” He waved Mr Dofu over, and went with him to the wooden structure that serves as a temporary office.
“My brother, I have done quite a lot of work on the issue you came to see me about. I have prepared a special, powerful package for you. Take this, drink it, and go back to your business. I want to see you in two weeks.”
Beaming with smiles, Mr Dofu drank the foul smelling liquid in two gulps, said a big thank you to Antobam and took his leave. “I believe you, Papa Osofo. And I assure you that I will reward you, big time.”
Just when Osofo Antubam finished with Mr Dofu, Mary and Suzzie went over to him. “Good Morning ladies. I am very sorry about yesterday. I drank too much of the stuff you gave me. Today will be different, I assure you.”
“Don’t worry, Osofo. Since you are now setting things up, our main concern now is to help you to put things in place, and to make you comfortable. We are always there to serve you. This morning, Osofo, we want to go and clean up your place, and prepare something nice for you when you close.
And before coming to church, we will pass by the bank and collect the forms. After you have signed them, the account will be open. You can check the payments anytime and, of course, issue cheques whenever you need money.”
“Suzzie and Mary, I am happy I picked the two of you from the very start. Listen, I will take good care of you, okay? Here is some money. Buy whatever you need for the errands you have mentioned.
And here is the key. Please come back as early as you can. You know I need you here.” The service was very lively. The lively singing of praise songs was followed by one and a half hours of testimonies.
Most of them related to money – big sales, new jobs and overdue debts paid. But there were also testimonies about healing. Barren women had taken seed, and, of course, several men who had lost their bedroom authority had regained them, to the delight of their partners.
As he had promised, Antobam preached for only 30 minutes, exhorting the congregation to attend church regularly, pay their tithes and offerings, and strictly follow his ‘directions’ for securing solutions to their problems.
After another round of praises during which the congregation danced to the floor to drop their offering, he closed the service, grabbed the big bowl which was full to the brim with money, and moved to his desk. A long queue was quickly formed at the desk.
Meanwhile, Mary and Suzzie had gone to give Antobam’s place quite a decent look. A new bedsheet and pillows, a secondhand carpet and four plastic chairs placed in the verandah had done the trick.
They also prepared two fish and chicken stews. After all these, they rushed to the National Savings Bank and collected application forms for opening current and savings accounts.
They joined the service a few minutes before the main session closed. Antobam looked round and saw, to his relief, Mary and Suzzie moving towards him. “Hello ladies. What have you been up to?” “Quite a bit, Osofo. We’ve just collected your drink. Here you are. We’ve made a few changes at your place. I think you will like it. You will also have something nice to eat. Now, here are the forms for the savings and current accounts.
If you will sign them, the bank will open the account. From today, we can pay all monies direct into the account.” ‘How can I thank you, ladies?” “You don’t need to thank us,” Suzzie said. “It is our duty to help a man of God succeed.” “Okay, my ladies, please take the offerings and count them as you did yesterday.
You can add the payments made after the consultations. Will it be possible to pay them into the account today?” “Yes,” Mary said. “The bank closes at four. If we leave here at three, we would be there just in time.”
The two friends started counting, as Osofo Antobam gave his clients his directions for solving their problems. On quite a few occasions he closed his eyes as if he was receiving direction from above on what to do.
But as the fetish priest at the Nana Kofi Broni shrine and the dwarfs had assured him, the solutions would certainly be provided. Having heard the huge testimonies earlier in the day, the clients parted with substantial sums of money in expectation.
By Ekow de Heer
Features
The issue of spiritual father in our churches
A student was supposed to go to school as the natural cause of events should be when universities or schools in general opens but this was not the case in a certain young man’s life.
He decided to postpone his trip because apparently he could not get to meet his pastor, his spiritual father. The question is, should this spiritual father die, will the young man’s life come to an end?
Does it mean in such an instance, he is going to curtail his education? This is a worrying trend in a lot of churches where the pastors use this notion of spiritual father to manipulate members especially the youth.
Some unscrupulous pastors utilise this spiritual father concept to have affairs with gullible young ladies in their churches.
Now with homosexuality gradually making inroads into some of the churches, young men are becoming vulnerable to pastors who have hidden homosexual inclinations.
This spiritual father concept is a Biblical concept that runs through both the Old Testament as well as the New Testament. We see it in 2 Kings 4:12 where Gehazi is serving Elisha and also in the New Testament we see Paul relating to Timothy in 1 Timothy 1:2 as a Spiritual Father.
In fact, the concept of spiritual father is a good thing if executed according to the word of God since it helps in guiding the younger ones. However, it becomes problematic when it is being executed by unscrupulous wolves in sheepskins as described by Jesus in Mathew 7:15.
I see it as a way that these unscrupulous so-called men of God maintain their hold on the congregants so they do not question their unchristian actions.
One of the things I have observed since I got born again many years ago is that, any pastor who often insists that members recognise that he is their spiritual father is a warning sign that he is doing some wrong things or is about to indulge in some wrong things.
A parent complained about how his daughter was being influenced by a pastor of the church she attends and how worried he was. I am sure there are many parents out there with stories to tell about how their wards are being made to see their pastors almost like their Jesus.
These pastors have managed to make their congregants so loyal to them and to believe in them so much that it is terrifying, as a parent.
The way things are going, an immediate intervention is required otherwise I am not a prophet of doom but I forsee unfortunate instances where parents burst into church auditoriums and star shooting some Pastors out of frustration and anger.
We cannot look on unconcerned as a society and allow unscrupulous fraudsters using the name of God to create problems for families. My recommendation is for a certain amount of regulation in order to bring some sanity in religious practices.
I agree that ordinarily regulating religious practices makes it a bit restrictive in terms of freedom of worship as enshrined in our constitution but given the way things are going, a bit of regulation will not be out of place.
Disgusting stuff are being attributed to some men of God. There are cases of manipulation of young ladies and sometimes married women by so called men of God and it is bringing Christianity and therefore the name of the Lord into disrepute.
Christianity is gradually losing its attractiveness as a result of the negative reportage resulting from disgusting stuff happening in Christian circles. The way some pastors have been manipulating congregants to take money from them leaves much to be desired to the point where they are convincing some of the youth to give out their phones. May God help us.
By Laud Kissi-Mensah
