Tragic Kintampo: Dennis, I wish you were my friend

Dennis, I wish you were my friend.

Perhaps I could have been there with you when you were crushed under that mighty tree and buried under deep waters amidst rainstorms, panting for breath and calling on mama for help and wresting in pain with death, hoping for a second chance until finally giving up helplessly, with your remains scattered on the bare floor. That is tragic yet heroic.

Heroes die at war. You were in school, seeking knowledge to make your family and country proud. History will be kind to you.

Dennis, I wish you were my friend.

Perhaps I could have learnt from your gentle, calm and beautiful demeanour, which moved Minister Joe Beachem, a first time visitor to our church, to remarked that your dressing is as impeccable as a first year Senior High Student.

But he was wrong. You were a university student, who blended so beautifully serious academic work, music and Christianity .

Little wonder your sting with Mfantsipim Seconday School, University of Energy and Natural Resources and the Shekinah Glory of New Achimota Church of Pentecost have set ablaze a fire that will never quench until many more Dennis Ntims are born. Such is the life of all great men. They never die.

Dennis I wish you were my friend. Perhaps I could have recommended your example to the youth of our country. To remember their creator in the days of their youth:

‘Before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, “I find no pleasure in them”-

Before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars grow dark, and the clouds return after the rain;

When the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men stoop, when the grinders cease because they are few, and those looking through the windows grow dim;

When the doors to the street are closed and the sound of grinding fades; when men rise up at the sound of birds, but all their songs grow faint;

When men are afraid of heights and of dangers in the streets; when the almond tree blossoms and the grasshopper drags himself along and desire no longer is stirred.

Then man goes to his eternal home and mourners go about the streets and the dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.’ (Ecclesiastes12)

Fare-thee-well my brother.

I will miss you but God needs you.

Akyena Brantuo Benjamin,

benakyena@yahoo.com

(The writer is a broadcast Journalist with Ahotor Fm and a member of the church of Pentecost, New Achimota English Assembly with the deceased, Mr Agyei Dennis Nana Ntim, who as a student of the University of Energy and Natural Resources in the Brong Ahafo Region, met his untimely death at the Kintampo water fall tragedy which claimed over 10 lives.

He goes home finally this Saturday 1 April 2017 at the forecourt of the Church.)