What is this all about?
A site in memory of the boss player?
A memorial held in London by BBC for the Boss Player? 
The whole Morning Show dedicated to the memory of the Boss player? 

BBC instituting a fund or whatever in the name of the Boss Player to assist or shape up and coming journalist?
GJA to name the highest awards after the Boss Player?
Preparations being made to bring home the mortal remains of the Boss player?
A state burial to be considered for the Boss player?
And the country to honour the Boss player in Brazil?


What is this all about?
Could this story be true?
Could it be true that the fierce wind that blew over GHANA OUR MOTHERLAND once again took away a such a young soul?

Story told about you, how "hopeless" you felt at a point in time when all was not well academically, nonetheless you turn this round!!!
You never stepped in the four corners of a wall to study journalism, but today you inspire so many........
You the untrained journalist got the opportunity to "grill" the rich, the poor, the mighty, the feeble.
You brought tears to my eyes when you had to carry water as payment for a piece of interview you carried out in Angola.....

What is all this about?
You were on Focus on Africa, just the Friday night so what happened? 
In as much as i am surrounded by and with news of your sleep............ it is had to believe you are gone !!!
May be someday, somehow and somewhere I may or will come to terms with it............and so till that day comes.......

I AM OF THE HOPE THAT I WILL WAKE UP TOMORROW MORNING AND WILL HEAR YOUR VOICE ON BBC AND BE TOLD THAT "THE MONTH OF APRIL CAME IN EARLY"....

And then "One day in the sweet bye and bye" we will understand what this is all about !!!                    

Waiting to hear your voice on BBC tomorrow morning Efo Komla.....     
    

Today gives me an ethernal hurting of the raging night, my moon had crashed  on the wings of flamingoes,While saying farewell to crying winds of the creek when waves slapping sideways on crazy shores of silence, another watchman of sweets.Impared longing till it starts burning under the eyes, so I am the priest and I am the god of wasteland incisible in drifting dust Of voicelessness on the doors of schizophrenia
in order to stay dane amist the freedom of violence of uncaught heydays of drag queens in transgender Era of dragons and quivering flash of tempers between breasts of hills in a green sky it would be sleepless mystry of gullible hounds...Amewofo Hedenyui.. dzudzor le nutifafame.Oh God know why this time....can l say its calling of God...well! bye to u bro

This wake, I owed it to you, my defining moment:for the raw melding, of life imprisonement and death behind the bars. The sin had seeped slowly in the foundations. A blurred view of the caravan passing on the shifting sand of quarter-century; the devastation had turned black in smug oasis, the victim will not become virgin again. Blind dead will monitor the course of grievers. On to her tongue I leave the endless stars and you will forget the bull-dosed windows and weeping walls of incaracerated house where the daily meals were sex and rape; the strange shadows of crime and pardon are breaking now in blue sky after the defeating moon. Komla Dumor May the Almighty God who created you,accept your Soul in peace and give you a heavenly rest