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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
Today, I focus on the Apostolic Church International in Finland, as I continue with my description of institutions and personalities and their accomplishments as members of the Ghanaian Diaspora in Finland.
The Apostolic Church International, Finland (or, Apostolic International Association Ry) was established in October 9, 2023. The Church in Finland has seen significant strides and accomplishments within the short time that it has been established in Finland, which must be highlighted.
History of the Church in Ghana
The Apostolic Church Ghana originated from the 1904–1905 Welsh revival, officially established in Ghana (then called Gold Coast) in 1935 following connections between a local prayer group in Asamankese (a town in southern Ghana), led by Peter Newman Anim, and the Apostolic Church, UK. There were historical splits in 1939 and 1953, but the Apostolic Church attained autonomy in 1985.
Today, the Church is headquartered in Accra. Last year (2025), it dedicated its new 10-storey headquarters, “The Apostolic Church Tower,” in Frafraha, Adenta West in Accra.
Activities of the Apostolic Church in Finland
The Apostolic Church in Finland conducts church service on Sundays. The service starts at 11a.m. in the morning and closes by 1 p.m. in the afternoon. There are no other activities during other days for now.
The Minister in charge of the church in Finland is also the Area Head of Italy Area. He is Pastor Daniel Kofi Addison who is the new Italy Area Head, and has just been transferred from UK South Area to Italy Area during the just-ended Council Meeting in March this year. Italy Area comprises Italy, which has 13 Assemblies, Germany, one Assembly, and Finland, one Assembly.
Elder Ebenezer Amoaning-Coffie is the Presiding Elder in charge of the Assembly in Finland. A Presiding Elder is responsible for day to day activities of the church (Assembly) and reports to the District Pastor, or in the absence of the District Pastor, reports to the Area Head.
Achievements
The Apostolic Church International, Finland was officially registered under the Finnish Law, guaranteeing freedom of worship and providing legal foundation for future growth. The church service is conducted in both English and Twi.
The church opens its doors to all people of every nation, especially Ghanaians who are in Finland and other African nationals. Now, the membership comprises Ghanaians, Nigerians and Sierra Leoneans.
The Church and the Ghanaian migrant community in Finland
The Apostolic Church in Finland plays a prominent role as a religious group that serves Ghanaian migrants and others in the Finnish society.
Thus, the Apostolic Church is a religious body for Ghanaian migrants in Finland and other nationalities who want to worship with them for diversity and better intercultural and multicultural understanding.
Elder Amoaning-Coffie said that the main and primary aim of the church is to bring people closer to God. “We aim to win souls for Christ. We aim to preach the gospel to the world. By propagating the gospel to the people, we are hopeful that they will turn away from any ungodly ways and be good individuals in the community and in society in general”, he stated.
He said that everything is going well so far. A key challenge, however, is how to get more members especially the youth. As a new Assembly, we are in need of instrumentalists, for example. We pray to God Almighty to help us do His work, the Elder disclosed.
Integration
By its activities, the Apostolic Church is helping to ensure integration of its members well into the Finish society. This is important since social interaction and citizens’ well-being are an important part of the integration process in Finland.
As I mentioned some time ago, the role of migrant associations and groups such as the Apostolic Church acting as bridge-builders for the integration and inclusion of migrants through participation in the decision making process and by acting as a representative voice is highly appreciated in Finland. Thank you!
With Dr Perpetual Crentsil
The landscape of the Ghanaian palate is shifting, and not necessarily for the better. In our bustling urban centres, from the streets of Accra to the suburbs of Kumasi, a quiet culinary revolution is taking place; one where the mortar and pestle are being replaced by the pizza oven and the deep fryer. This transition from traditional staple foods like fufu, banku, akple, kenkey, tuo zaafi, and ampesi toward “continental” dishes is more than just a change in appetite; it is a reflection of a deeper social struggle with identity and prestige.
The illusion of modernity
For many, “stepping out” for a meal has become synonymous with consuming foreign cuisine. There is an unspoken social hierarchy where a bowl of Abunuabunu is relegated to the village category, while burgers, pizzas are branded as prestigious choices. We have reached a stage where we equate foreign with modern and local with primitive.
This perception is a dangerous illusion. Our traditional dishes are marvels of culinary engineering complex, nutrient-dense, and deeply rooted in our history. When we choose a processed foreign import over a meal made from local tubers or fermented maize, we are not just changing our lunch; we are eroding the indigenous knowledge attached to our local ingredients and foods.
We need to turn the consumption of indigenous grains and tubers like millet, sorghum, and plantain into a statement of self-worth and national pride.
The cultural and health erosion
Every time a local dish disappears from a restaurant menu to make room for foreign fast food, we lose a piece of our cultural fabric. Traditional Ghanaian cooking is an art that requires patience and skill. By choosing the convenience of foreign fast food, we are raising a generation that may know the taste of a pepperoni pizza but cannot identify the rich, earthy profile of Prekese or the subtle tang of well-fermented dough dishes like corn porridge, banku, etew, abolo, agidi or kamfa, and kenkey.
Furthermore, we are at the crossroads of a nutrition transition. Replacing high-fiber, indigenous crops with calorie-dense but nutrient-poor foreign fast foods is driving a rise in lifestyle diseases such as obesity, hypertension, diabetes, stroke, cancer, and liver disease. We are trading our longevity for 15-minutes convenience or unhealthy diet.
A call for culinary patriotism
It is time for us to appreciate, preserve, and promote our indigenous foods and culinary traditions. We need to be proud of our local dishes, ingredients and cooking methods, rather than relying heavily on foreign or imported foods. We must stop viewing our local delicacies as low-class and start treating our culinary heritage as the high-end gastronomy it truly is.
True sophistication does not come from imitating Western fast food; it comes from innovation and adding values to our own resources. We see glimpses of this potential in the rise of branded Sobolo and the creative use of gluten-free plantain flour in modern baking of flour-based dishes such as bread, cakes, biscuits and others. This is the path forward. We must elevate our local dishes, making them as accessible, affordable, presentable and trendy as any foreign alternative.
To the hospitality industry: Innovate or stagnate
Our hotels and high-end restaurants must lead the charge. They must stop relegating local dishes to the “traditional corner” of the buffet, and apply the same culinary finesse given to imported dishes to our Fante Fante, apapransa, aborbi tadi, fetritoto, akple, abolo, yakayeke, fufu, ampesi, kokonte, wasawasa, tubani, apapransa, mpotompoto, kelewele, aliha, brukutu, pito, and other local dishes. The industry must enhance customer experiences making eating local dishes the ultimate luxury experience for both tourists and residents alike. We must elevate the presentation of our foods by using modern plating techniques to show that a bowl of light soup can be as visually stunning as a French consommé. We need to reclaim our Ghanaian plate before it is too late.
To the policy makers: Let us encourage buying of local ingredients to promote the local food industry and economy. There should be educational programmes and talks about the nutritional and cultural benefits of local foods so that people understand their value.
We need to encourage serving traditional dishes at school programmes, parties, and celebrations instead of only fast foods,
To the Youth: Let us value and appreciate our traditional dishes instead of always choosing foreign foods. There must be balance in our choice of local and foreign dishes. Confidence in our culture encourages others to respect it too. Our local dishes can also be promoted by sharing pictures, recipes, and videos on platforms such as Instagram, TikTok, and WhatsApp to make them attractive and trendy.
Young citizens must learn from their parents and elders how to prepare local meals to keep the knowledge and cultural relevance alive. Local dishes can be modernised to appeal to younger generations and tourists.
Conclusion
We cannot afford to trade our heritage for foreign cuisines which are gaining grounds across the country at an alarming rate. We must disabuse our minds of the perception that anything foreign or imported is better than those locally made. Our health, economy, and identity are tied to the soil. It is time to stop apologising for our local flavours and start celebrating them. It is possible to embrace modernity without losing ourselves and our cultural identity. Let us make the Ghanaian kitchen the heart of our modern identity once again.
By: Marilyn Gadogbe
