TRIBUTE TO EDITH NELLY OFORI (aka Sister) by Dr. Gerhard Kweku Ofori-Amankwah
It is with extreme sadness that I have put these words together into a narration about someone who was so close to me.
My recollection of Sister as she preferred to be referred to dates back to the 70’s but more prominently 1981 when we visited Ghana from Nigeria amidst a fuel shortage in the country. We had thoroughly enjoyed our holiday, meeting friends, watching Rookies, and shuttling between Dansoman and Bubuashie where our aunt Agnes lived. It was during this time we learned about the border closures, which amidst the fuel shortage made our return quite challenging. On numerous occasions we set off for the border only to be denied passage due to its closure and had to rely on fuel sold at black markets at cut-throat prices to ensure the car was fuelled for the return trip to Accra. These return trips were much to our delight as we looked forward to spending a bit more time before the next attempt. Little did we know or care about the impact these journeys were having on our finances. For us it was an answer to our (my brother and I) prayers that each attempted crossing would end in failure. Each night we had to drive back to Accra, we would be met by sumptuous meals and Sister’s broad smile which wiped every look of disappointment from my father’s face. In the end she helped him to laugh off each setback as we looked forward to the next adventure.
Several years later, I moved to Accra to live with her while I attended Achimota school. Times were tough then, but she never made a fuss or allowed us to see any worry on her face. Her carefully concealed worry kept at bay any thoughts one would have had about where the next meal would come from. We therefore lived as though we had everything because she meticulously added up whatever proceeds we got from the poultry to ensure the kitchen was well stocked. I am sure my big sisters, Akorfa and Bernice, can recall how I once dealt with a huge bowl of kokonte and palm nut soup only to retire upstairs in a bid to hide my breathing difficulty as a result of my gluttony. Sister, thank you for such warmth and love despite the few naughty moments of your nephew. Thank you for showing that despite challenges faced, one can still put up a positive attitude.
There were four things I always associated Sister– neat white slippers, hymn book, morning coat and not least of all, her bible in which she seemed to keep the shopping list as though she were showing it to God to provide and provide, he did! Sister loved the Lord and made time to serve him as a chorister of the Presbyterian church in Dansoman. I recall how several evenings she and aunty Alice (her friend in the neighbourhood) would go off for choir practice and return humming a tune or two. She ensured her dwelling was spotless and always cleaned and dusted as if she were expecting guests.
I am sure I am not alone in recalling how each year, on my anniversary, she would call or send a birthday wish. “Young man” she would often say, and this would be followed by a long laugh after which she would remark “you are no longer young” and go on to wish me blessings for the year ahead. Such was the ritual that her passing brings into sharp focus the fact that this year will not be one of those. What a shame!
On that fateful day when she left us, I stepped into her room and was consumed by emotion when I caught a glimpse of her neat white slippers, in place, as if she had been raptured. Indeed, her departure was so sudden that the only comfort one can derive from her untimely exit, is knowing that she is with the Lord. She is where there is no pain or sorrow, where her lovely, honed voice will forever sing in courts of our Lord. Rest in Peace Sister. Hede nyuie!!