“Uncle Ellis! Uncle Ellis!” Bekoe’s maid cried over the phone, panic in her voice. “Mummy is really sick.” She meant Bekoe’s wife, Gloria. “I’ve been trying to reach Daddy, but he’s in church and his phone isn’t going through!” Ellis shot up, visions of a sick, heavily pregnant Gloria flashing through his mind. He yanked on a T-shirt — inside-out — grabbed his car keys, and raced off, heart pounding. Dear God, please save her. Please heal her. At the hospital, the doctor said, “We need to do an emergency surgery. Are you her husband? Someone has to sign the consent form.” “Do everything you can to save her,” Ellis urged. “You know the risks of signing instead of her husband?” the doctor pressed. But Ellis didn’t hesitate — this was his friend’s wife, and time was critical. Later, when Bekoe arrived, he was overwhelmed with gratitude for a friend who had stood like a brother. I first met Ellis through our mutual friend Burgess, who had been his roommate back in Tech. The connection was instant, and from the start, his compassion stood out. Shortly after we met, we visited a friend at Korle Bu. When I found myself stranded without transport, Ellis simply handed me his car keys and said, “Take my car home — I’ll stay here tonight.” We weren’t even that close yet. Another time, when my car broke down late at night, he again offered me his own. That’s Ellis — always ready to help, no hesitation, no conditions. With Ellis, there’s always a story — and many of them involve cars. A couple of years later, one evening we were towing his vehicle from Accra through the motorway to Tema. As we approached the Community 4 Roundabout, an unregistered pickup with no tail lights and thick smoke tried to overtake the car being towed. It nearly caused a collision. I shouted one strong Akan expletive at the driver — only to discover they were policemen. They attempted to confront us, but we kept moving and eventually stopped in a welllit area with onlookers. Without badges or name tags, we challenged their identity and said we would report them. They quickly backed down and left. That’s the thing about Ellis — he’s calm under pressure but never afraid to call someone’s bluff when they’re in the wrong. He also has a knack for turning ordinary moments into funny and memorable ones. Another time, we were heading to Tema when an ambulance passed us. At the toll booth, they let the ambulance through without payment. When we got there, Ellis started making siren noises. The toll attendant asked, “What is it?” He said, “It’s an ambulance too.” She just looked at him and said, “Get off. Bring the money.” Ellis paid — laughing all the way. In a life-or-death moment, Ellis acted without hesitation to save my wife, proving he’s more than a friend — he’s part of me. Our trust runs deep. He’s the only person who knows where I keep money in my house. If either of us takes from the other, there’s no question of repayment. His family treats me as one of their own. He is the type who makes himself available to his children, nephews, and nieces, and listens to their problems — whether academic or social. He has been that uncle to my own children. When my kids were younger, he would collect them to his house — at a time when there was no woman in his home — and let them go to school from there for about a week before returning them to me. Later in our friendship, I discovered through my cousin Azu that Ellis was his maternal cousin — so from then on, we were family. The bond we share runs deep. We both come from large families and understand the dynamics — the joy, the noise, and the chaos of it all. Ellis is generous to a fault, selfless, multitalented, and always ready to act. He’s a visionary — returning to Ghana and being part of something like Finney Hospital took courage and belief. He’s also a prankster. If you ask him a question, you sometimes have to think twice — is he serious or joking? That’s Ellis. Even at home, he’s playful — teasing his wife, joking with his mother-in-law, and keeping the mood light. One afternoon, after inviting us over, while pounding fufu, turning it, and sipping beer, my wife offered to help. He handed her the pestle, then offered her a Heineken — and when she accepted, he said, “You haven’t brought any Heineken here — why should you expect one?” Ellis, our wish for you is that this new chapter of love keeps bringing you happiness. You’ve invested your heart in it, and we pray you age gracefully, surrounded by the family you’ve built. May the Lord continue to bless you and use you to bring joy and happiness to everyone you meet. May you grow in wisdom and in the knowledge of God. Bekoe & Gloria 38 The Birthday Journal C O M PA S S I O N AT E
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