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On behalf of the Narh-Bita Tetteh Kwadzo and the Bharmiyee families of Odumase Krobo and the Darko family of Laterbiokorshie, we’d like to thank you for sharing your memories, support and love during the recent difficult period. Your kindness is deeply appreciated and will always be remembered.
The Darko family of Laterbiokorshie, Accra.
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The Narh-Bita Tetteh Kwadzo family and the Bharmiyee family all of Odumase Krobo and the Darko family of Laterbiokorshie, Accra, would like to announce the passing away of Julius Tetteh Larnor Darko which occurred in Accra on Monday, 6th Feb 2017, aged 87.
He is survived by his wife Mrs. Matilda Mamle Darko, 6 children (Mrs. Emelia Asafu Adjaye, Mr. Jordan Darko, Mr. Winfried Darko, Mrs. Cora Odametey, Mrs. Damaris Forson and Godfried Darko) and 7 grandchildren (Emily Asafu Adjaye, Sherilyn Odametey, Alvin Odametey, Claire Forson, Lysandra Odametey, Carlin Forson and Ciel Forson).
Funeral arrangements are as follows:
Burial Service & Reception: Friday, 3rd March 2017; from 09:00 GMT
Thanksgiving Service: Sunday, 5th March 2017 @ the Zimmermann Presbyterian Church; 09:00-12:00 GMT
(All the funeral ceremonies will take place in his hometown, Krobo Odumase, in the Eastern Region of Ghana)
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Although your work on earth is done
Your life beyond has just begun.
Your struggles here were hard and long
But they’re over now, you’re finally home.
Life wasn’t easy, by choice or fate
A decision made, sometimes too late.
A fight to the finish, always strong
Rest easy Sister Naa, you’re finally home.
Written by Lynn Casstevens
(Tribute to a departed cousin, Alice Darlington,
Posted by B’jor)
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My child always wanted to sail on an ocean
I look unto you now
And can only imagine how your dream has been poisoned
With the salt blistering your skin
And a look of bewildered terror
And demands such fear of the young
Who clutch their hands, so aware
Of the black mass which swells beneath them
And which I cannot urge them to forget
On a wind which on other days may serve as the breeze
To a family holiday, or a yachtsman’s paradise
But now only carries the howls of a nightmare
As custodian what hell I have brought you to
A hell which you cannot understand
But have accepted, though trust ought abandon you
My brother always wanted to see new lands
But not to flee his own
You charge into peril
But what land greets you now,
A land with arms open or a closed fist?
Robbed of a country and an identity.
To be the strength of your convictions
To be the strength of your convictions said my grandfather
But now I have no strength.
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We clasp onto wishes for hope.Wishes, that wet the dryness of our tongueswhile our parents pile bricks and ruin againstthe door from inside.
Sweat drops from my father’s face,He smells as though time has run out.We hear the music in their feetthe percussion in shell cases ringing concrete,greeting our door like neighboursfor Sisi, who talks about London and France.And, me.Yomi Sode
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A humble request to every Ghanaian.
🔖 1. Don’t throw away garbage on the roads/streets
🔖 2. Don’t spit on roads and walls
🔖 3. Don’t write on walls and currency notes
🔖 4. Don’t abuse and insult others
🔖 5. Don’t misuse water and electricity
🔖 6. Plant a tree every year
🔖 7. Follow traffic rules
🔖 8. Take care of your parents and grand parents, take their blessings and always respect them
🔖 9. Show Respect
🔖 10. Help the less fortunate
🎈*We got to change ourselves and not the country. Once we change ourselves the country will automatically change*
🔊 If we want our kids to live in a clean and safe environment then pledge to follow these simple rules in your everyday life.
🎙 No one person or leader can change the country alone; it’s you and me who can change our beloved nation by changing ourselves
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I AM monarch of all I survey; My right there is none to dispute; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute O Solitude! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this […]
We clasp onto wishes for hope. Wishes, that wet the dryness of our tongues while our parents pile bricks and ruin against the door from inside. Sweat drops from my father’s face, He smells as though time has run out. We hear the music in their feet the percussion in shell cases ringing concrete, greeting […]
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