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Easter: God’s own story
Easter is here again. And once more, we will go through the motions as usual. In Ghana and most parts of the Christian world, Palm Sunday opens the Easter season by reminding us of the triumphal entry of Jesus to Jerusalem days before His crucifixion.
Triumphal in the sense that even though the Jewish religious leaders were planning to kill Jesus, He boldly rode into Jerusalem where He knew they were waiting for Him. At His appearance, the multitude who wanted to enthrone Him king, cut off palm fronds which they strewed before His donkey while others waved theirs.
Ghana, however, has a unique way of marking the day. Instead of the date palm fronds, Ghanaians have adopted the oil palm leaves which may be excusable because date palm is not as abundant in the country as oil palm. And trust the ingenuity of the Ghanaian! Palm Sunday has become the occasion when people who, for one reason or another, have not eaten palm nut soup for a long time, make sure this chance does not pass them by. Of course, it must be complemented by fufu, otherwise the trouble you take in preparing the soup would not be worth the while. All this is part of Easter.
After Palm Sunday, all attention shifts to the following Friday, that is Good Friday, a day set aside the world over to commemorate the crucifixion and subsequent death of Jesus Christ. Most Ghanaians, especially, those of the orthodox faith, wear funeral clothes to go and mourn the “death” of Jesus in church.
Then Sunday comes, and people troop to their various churches in all-white attires or something with a touch of white to celebrate the resurrection power of Jesus. The songs commemorating the momentous event vary. The Methodists surely have a lot to sing but one that they would never miss on Easter Sunday is Robert Lowry’s hymn that goes like this:
1 Low in the grave he lay, Jesus my Saviour,
waiting the coming day, Jesus my Lord!
Refrain:
Up from the grave He arose;
with a mighty triumph o’er his foes;
He arose a victor from the dark domain,
and He lives forever, with his saints to reign.
He arose! He arose! Hallelujah! Christ arose!
2 Vainly they watch his bed, Jesus my Saviour,
vainly they seal the dead, Jesus my Lord! [Refrain]
3 Death cannot keep its prey, Jesus my Saviour;
He tore the bars away, Jesus my Lord! [Refrain]
The Pentecostals would prefer something like this:
Owuo anntumi no, w’adi asaman so;
Nkunim di hene, cne Awurade;
Y3ma wo mmo Yesu, y3ma wo mmo Messiah;
Nkunimdi hene cne Awurade.
In translation, the song declares as follows:
Death could not beat Him, He has triumphed over hell;
The King of Victory is the Lord;
We congratulate You, Jesus, we congratulate You Messaiah;
The King of victory is the Lord
For most people, including so-called Christians, the “real deal” is yet to come. After church, the boozing and revelries must be allowed. After all, the Bible says: “Give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, and unto God, what is God’s.” For many, that is all Easter means. But what is the real meaning of Easter? What really happened at Easter?
The following story provides a clue. A very rich man called Mr. Emmanuel Love was celibate and childless. He had a sweet spirit and showered gifts on all the kids in his neighbourhood. But he took a special liking to a particular boy, Manson, the son of Mr. and Mrs. Man.
One day, Manson’s parents travelled and left him in the care of Mr. Love. As naughty as children are, he sneaked out of the house for a splash in a nearby stream. Unknown to him, the flow was fast and upstream, compelling him to swim against the current. He was drowning gradually.
Just in the nick of time, Mr. Love discovered that Manson was nowhere to be found. By intuition, he dashed towards the stream and found him struggling to make it ashore. Without thinking, Mr. Love dived into the water and did his best to bring the boy downstream as both of them gasped for breath. But the rescue came at a great cost. Mr. Love was left crippled. After a few days, Manson’s parents returned from their journey and went for him. They heard what had happened and felt extremely sorry for Mr. Love but there was no need crying over spilt milk.
About a year later, the family relocated to another city, perhaps unable to process the thought of seeing Mr. Love like that. But they kept in touch with him while Mr. Love frequently sent letters to Manson encouraging him to study hard and be the best that he could be. About a decade later, with Manson in his late teens, Mr. Love realised he was deteriorating in health. So, he decided to go and visit his little friend before the inevitable happened.
On reaching the city, he began to trudge across a community park to Manson’s house close by. As he hobbled along due to his condition, some youngsters enjoying a game of football on the field started hurling insults at him for delaying their game. Finally, he reached home and immediately asked for his boy.
Mr. Love was told Manson was playing football nearby, apparently on the park Mr. Love just crossed. His parents sent for him and when he came home, he recognised the visitor as the handicapped man who just struggled along the field. He questioned his parents why they should entertain such a wretch in their home. When they explained who he was and reminded him how the man ended up maimed for life, Manson could not hold back his tears.
He dashed to call his friends on the field to come and see his hero. When they came, they were also snubbish but in tears, Manson explained how the man’s condition evolved. Mr. Love asked if they got the money he had been sending in his letters. To their shame, they never opened them, and when they did, they were amazed at the amount he had sent their boy over the years without their knowledge. The best was yet to come. Mr. Love told them he had come to inform them that he had bequeathed his estate to Adamson and left.
Do you get the picture?“He was wounded for our transgressions.” Our sins took Jesus to the cross. Yet, we despise Him. The Bible prophesied before He appeared in human form that when people set their eyes on Him, there would be no comeliness in Him that they should desire Him. Just as Manson forgot all that Mr. Love suffered for him, so do we treat Jesus with contempt. We only pay lip service to Him.
Perhaps, we treat Him with disdain because we do not really know Him. Let me show you an open secret. Jesus is God the very God! Period. Yes, Easter is God’s own story. The Creator of the universe stripped Himself of all His glory, took upon Himself the form of a servant, and allowed sinful men to kill Him so that He would shed His own blood to cleanse us from our unrighteousness.
The blood of bulls and sheep was not pure enough, neither was the blood of any man deemed righteous enough to atone for our sins. So, God became a Man to have blood in Himself to shed for us. That is the true Easter story.
Yes, the Ancient of Days became the Babe of Bethlehem, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, became the Lamb that was slain; He is the Consuming Fire yet, the Living Water; when Mary held the Infant Jesus and kissed her Son, she kissed the face of God. He is the Mighty God, Wonderful Counsellor, the Prince of Peace, the Everlasting Father, the King of kings, Lord of lords, the Great I Am. He can be anything He wants to be.
C.S. Lewis, a British author and speaker who was an unrepentant atheist until he found Jesus Christ, said this about Him in one of his discourses.“I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher.
“He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this Man was, and is, the Son of God, or a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronising nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.”
Contact: teepeejubilee@yahoo.co.uk
By Tony Prempeh
When Abigail Fremah steps up to the Armwrestling table, the noise fades, the tension settles, and order takes over.
Despite a calm, but firm and meticulous disposition, she has become one of the quiet forces shaping Ghana’s growing reputation in the sport, not as an athlete, but a referee trusted on the continental stage.
Abigail’s journey into Armwrestling did not begin at the table. Like many Ghanaian sports enthusiasts, she grew up playing several disciplines. Football was her first love, but she also featured in volleyball and basketball during her school years. Sports, she says, was simply a way of life not just for her.
“It runs through the family. All my siblings are into sports,” she stated.
“I was involved in almost every sport in school, football, volleyball, netball, hockey; I did everything,” she recalls.
Her academic background in Health, Physical Education and Recreation laid a solid foundation for her sporting career. While on scholarship at the university (University of Cape Coast), she often used her modest budget to support young athletes, sometimes sharing skills and even T-shirts at programmes she attended. Giving back, she explains, has always been part of her motivation.
However, as she matured as an athlete, Abigail made a critical self-assessment.
“Armwrestling involves a lot of strength,” she admits. “Looking at my body type, I realised I couldn’t fit properly as a competitive athlete.”
That moment of honesty pushed her to a different trajectory but equally important path in sports; which is officiating.
During her National Service, she was encouraged by Mr Charles Osei Asibey, the President of the Ghana Armwrestling Federation (GAF), to consider officiating. He introduced her to a technical official, Mr Hussein Akuerteh Addy, who formally took her through the basics of Armwrestling officiating in 2021.
“I started as a case official,” she says. “We moved from region to region every week, officiating competitions. That’s where it all began.”
By 2022, Abigail was actively involved in national assignments, though she missed the African Championship that year. Her breakthrough came in 2023, when Ghana hosted the African Armwrestling Championship.
It was her first experience officiating at a major international competition and it changed everything.
“That was my first national and international exposure at the same time,” she says. “It really opened my eyes.”
Today, Abigail is a World Junior Armwrestling Referee, a status earned through performance, consistency and discipline. She explains that progression in officiating was not automatic.
“It’s all about performance, your appearance at African Championships, your conduct, how you handle pressure; that’s what takes you to the world level,” she stressed.
As a referee, Abigail’s priority is safety and fairness. Armwrestling, she notes, comes with risks, particularly injuries to the wrists, elbows, shoulders and arms.
“If athletes don’t follow the rules or refuse to listen to officials, injuries can happen,” she explains, adding that focus was everything.
Before every match, she ensures that all equipment which includes elbow pads, hand pegs and table alignment were properly set. Athletes are not allowed to cover their elbows, must grip correctly, and must follow the referee’s commands precisely.
“We make sure everything is fixed before the grip,” she says. “Once we say ‘Ready… Go’, there should be no confusion.”
She is also firm on discipline. Warnings are issued for infractions, and repeated misconduct attracts penalties.
“The referee must be respected, if you don’t listen, the rules will deal with you,” she says.
Abigail credits her confidence partly to her sporting family background. Her mother was a volleyball player, while other family members also participated in sports. Though they were initially concerned about her safety, her rise to the top reassured them.
“They were afraid at first,” she admits. “But they were also very proud, especially because some of them never got the opportunity to reach this level.”
Looking ahead, Abigail is optimistic about the future of Armwrestling in Ghana. In less than a decade, the country has produced African and world-level medalists, a sign, she believes, of great things to come for Ghana.
“Whenever we go out, we come back with medals such as gold and silver,” she says, and to her that was a sign of growth.
In the next five to ten years, Abigail sees herself rising to become a World Master Referee, the highest officiating level in the sport. Until then, her routine remains intense, training four times a week, working closely with athletes, standing on her feet for hours, and constantly refining her understanding of the rules.
“I love this sport,” she says simply. “That love is what keeps me going.”
Abigail encouraged women to be bold and intentional about their place in sports saying “don’t limit yourself because of fear or stereotypes.”
She also urged women to invest in learning, discipline and consistency, stressing that respect was earned through performance.
For Abigail, as Ghana’s armwrestlers continue to make their mark, she will remain where she is most effective at the table, ensuring the game is played right.
By Esinam Jemima Kuatsinu
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As he had promised Aperkeh, the elderly man and his wife and three daughters stopped by Aperkeh’s parents’ house. Mr Amando and his family were preparing to settle in for the night.
“Brother Ben and family”, Mr Joshua Amando said warmly, “although I know you are here on a matter that can hardly be described as joyous, it is still good to see you. You are welcome. Please sit down while I bring you water”.
“Yes, we will take water, even though we are hardly thirsty, because this is our home”.
“Okay, Ben”, he started after they had drank, “Let me go straight to the point. My daughter Priscilla has told me about the goings on between her brother Aperkeh and our daughter Stella.
Before informing me, Priscilla had expressed concern to Aperkeh about some habits he is adopting, especially the late nights and the drinking. She tells me that one Saturday morning, she was there when Stella complained about his drinking and some girls who had come to the house to look for him, and he assaulted her.
I called him and complained, but all he could say was that I don’t know what caused him to react that way, so I could not judge him. Now he does not answer my calls.
I have sent Priscilla to his house to call him, but he has refused to come. Unfortunately, Ben, my son is a much different person than the young boy who completed university and started work at the bank. I am really embarrassed about his treatment of Stella”.
“Joshua, let me assure you that even though what is happening is very unfortunate, it will not affect our relationship.
We have been friends since childhood, and I thought that with their parents’ blessing, the relationship between Aperkeh and Stella would grow to become a blessing to all of us. But there appears to be a real challenge now.
Stella thinks that Aperkeh wants her out of his house, and indeed Aperkeh himself told me that, about an hour ago.
So I’m taking my daughter home. I suggest that you do what you can to straighten him out, but if it does not work out, let’s accept the situation and continue to be one family.
I am sure that being the well behaved girl that she is, Stella will meet a young man who will cherish her. Fortunately, this problem is happening early in the day, so they can sort things out if possible, or move on with their lives if they are unable to stay together”.
“I’m really grateful for that, Ben. I will do my best in the next few days to reason with him, because apart from the relationship with Stella, Aperkeh is risking his job and career with this lifestyle.
A good job and salary offers an opportunity to gather momentum in life, not to destroy yourself”.
“Okay Brother Joshua. We will say goodnight. I hope to hear positive news from you”.
As he descended in the lift from the fourth to the ground floor, Aperkeh wondered who would be waiting at the reception to see him at nine on Monday morning. He had spent good time with both of his new girls during the weekend, so it had to be someone else. He got out of the lift and pulled a face when he saw Priscilla.
“Priscilla”, he said as he sat down by her, “what do you want here? You know Monday morning is a busy time at the bank. I am a very busy person, so say what you want, I have work to do”.
“You are very funny, Aperkeh. You are telling me, your sister, that you have work to do, so I should hurry up? Okay, Dad says I should advise you to come home tonight, because he wants to discuss the issue of Stella with you. He sent me to you twice, and you did not come.
He has tried to call you quite a number of times, but you have refused to answer his calls. He says that if you do not come tonight, you will be very surprised at what he will do. He says you will not like it at all, so better come.
“What is all this? Why won’t you people leave me alone? Stella is very disrespectful. I told her that if she wanted to continue to live in my house, she must obey me. It is that simple.
She chose to continue ordering me about, controlling me in my own house, so I told her that if she could not live under my conditions she should leave. And she left. In fact, her own father came and took her away. So what again?’’
“How did she disobey or control you? Was she complaining about your continuous drinking and late nights? And did you slap her on several occasions because of that? Did you tell her that if she could not live under your conditions she should leave? You actually said that to her father? You have forgotten that before she came to live with you, our two parents met and agreed, and gave it their blessing?’
“Why don’t you leave, Priscilla? I don’t have to listen to all that”. “Okay, I will go. Your father who gave birth to you and educated you to university level sends me to you, and you ask me to leave? I wish you would defy him, and refuse to come home as he’s telling you, because he is planning to give you the discipline you badly need. Let me tell you. Stella is such a beautiful and decent girl, and I assure you that someone will grab her before you say Jack. You are only 30 years old, and you have already become a drunkard”.
As he walked towards the lift, Aperkeh decided on what to do. He would go home, and calmly listen to what his father had to say. The old man was very unpredictable, and he wouldn’t dare ignore him. So he would take all the insults and threats, but as for Stella she was history. According to Priscilla, Stella was beautiful and all that, but she had not seen the two curvaceous princesses who were all over him, ready to do anything he asked. And these were not barely literate waakye girls, but university graduates from wealthy homes, really classy girls. With stuff like that, who needs a waakye girl? He smiled as he took his seat.
A few minutes to five, Aperkeh was packing up to leave for home to meet his dad when his phone rang. It was Priscilla.
“Aperkeh, Dad says you don’t need to bother to come. Stella’s dad says she came to him early this morning to plead that she would rather stay at home than return to your house. She thinks you are already decided to be rid of her, and she does not want to risk being assaulted again. So it’s done. You can go ahead and enjoy the nice life you have started”.
Before he could tell her to go to hell, Priscilla hanged up the line. He was partially stung that his dad had virtually cut him off. The last thing anyone would want was to fall out of relationship with his own family, which had always supported him.
But the truth was he was no longer interested in Stella. What was wrong with going by one’s feelings? He could only hope that one day, his parents and sister would try to reason with him.
By Ekow de Heer
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