Tributes

It is with a heavy heart that I pay this tribute to my friend and husband of five (5) decades.

I met Eben, my husband, whose mortal remains lie before us this day for the first time at Kwadaso Agriculture College, Kumasi, in the Ashanti Region in February 1976, where I had gone to pursue a three (3) year certificate course in general agriculture.

As fresh students eager to explore our new environment, we rallied ourselves together and went on a stroll through the immediate campus surroundings. Galore, as he was affectionately called, happened to be among this group of students. We got attached and by the end of our first term in school, the foundation for a relationship had been laid between us, which would span a period of fifty (50) years.

At school, portions of cropped land were allocated to each of us to clear. Hailing from a farming community and accustomed to farming, I would finish mine on time and help him with his own. In the rainy season when mushrooms became abundant, the gentlemen would harvest and Galore would bring the mushrooms to me to prepare light soup for them.

At other times, when communal feeding at the dining hall failed, which happened every now and then, he would give me his stipend and ask to partake of whatever I get to eat … and so our friendship blossomed.

After school, we both opted for the Department of Animal Husbandry for our practical attachment. During postings, he was sent to the Amrahia Dairy Farm in the Greater Accra Region while I was posted to the Volta Region. We continued to exchange visits until we decided to settle down.

Eben lived for family, so much so that, despite having the opportunity to continue living abroad, he returned home to be with his family, determined to brave it here in Ghana, no matter what.

Indeed, life was not economically easy at all in the beginning but Eben was a fighter. At various stages of our lives together, he undertook various side jobs to supplement our income. At Banana Inn for example, he kept poultry, and was a Mamprobi taxi driver in the evenings after work. Life later happened and then we returned to live in Jamestown when his mom relocated from her rented James Town residence.

Given that there was no safe place in James Town to do the poultry, he started a piggery behind the Fire Service training school with two large white gilts; a gift from one Mr. Sekley of Alogboshie, near Achimota, where I was working as an extension officer at the time. The piggery helped to put food on the table and pay ever ballooning school fees. In addition to the piggery, he also cultivated a pepper farm at his work place at Ablorh Adjei where he was in charge of developing paddocks for pasture. There were several times when he had to balance two maxi bags of chilli pepper and myself on his motor bike from Ablorh Adjei to Jamestown … such was his determination.

Eben was a fabulous teacher. He involved all of us in every side job he undertook, thus teaching his children hard work, from hawking eggs, dried pepper etc. and also teaching them how not to put all their eggs in one basket. No matter where he moved to, his side hustles were a constant.

Eben was the living proof of service personified; no job was menial. No wonder he picked up carpenter’s tools every now and then, in his green agric extension uniform, and went to our daughter’s school at MOH Basic School, Korle Bu, to repair her broken desk and also fix other desks that were broken and awaiting repairs … earning him the title of the school’s part-time carpenter.

Eben was a hands-on person, and he mastered Do It Yourself (DIY) structures for both his poultry and pigs until he was financially sound to hire labour.

Eben believed strongly in the education of his children and whenever the need arose, he either borrowed money or sold personal items so that fees could be paid. At other times, he brokered payment terms … anything to allow his children to stay in the classroom.

My Eben was humble, hardworking, lived simply, cherished friendships; flowing with both young and old and was generous to a fault … In fact, Eben has always been very generous even in the days when he had very little; with my family members, and anyone who came his way … he would go out of his way to help. And he would sometimes over-extend, to his own detriment. Eben never knew rest; he was always on the move. He cherished songs and wished to sing but could not because, according to him, his voice cannot be found on the piano. He would thus get me to record his favourite songs when phone recordings became possible so he could listen at will.

Eben was good to me; he was my friend, my play mate, my confidante, and my sparring mate. He will go nowhere without taking me along; earning us the nickname “Kommley k3 Johnson”. Eben never liked to worry about anything, his mantra being (nōni bako dañ ñshō s3 eyōō) to wit “there is nothing that happens that has never occurred before”.

Eben had a deep sense of humour, which allowed him to appreciate with humour his difficult early days. In fact, when at age 70, he was celebrated with a car gift, my husband was apparently still in a dream state concerning the car the morning after. To be sure he was not dreaming, he held my hand and together we went out to see if the car was still parked where he had left it the previous day. We all burst out into laughter and it became our inside joke subsequently; and his response would always be “Aooo Eben, ‘namō aalé’”, translated “Aooo Eben, who would have known”.

On Friday 14th August, 2026, my Eben went to the poultry pen as he usually did every morning. He came back, ate his breakfast and returned to the pen only for us to be called that he was indisposed and needed to be taken to the hospital. When our two daughters got there he was unresponsive. They took him to the hospital and by the third day, he was gone.

No last words … Like a dream; not the dream that ends in the laughter and teasing we had shared over the years but one that has brought sorrow, pain, heart break and tears. Eben, who am I going to crack jokes with, quarrel with and have fun with, since these were what fused us together? You were supposed to be around for me to also celebrate my 70th so we could compare notes … My dear, I really wish you had lived a little bit longer to continue to enjoy the fruits of your labour, but thus far has the Lord brought us.

Kiss my Elikem, our first grandson, for me. Only God knows why I had to lose the two of you in less than a year … I cast my burden unto Him.

Daa. Dada. Ebenezer Soli. Edens. Mr. Soli. Edensbryne. Soli & Sons.

The list of our endearing names for you could go on and on, each representing a different side of the extraordinary man we were privileged to call our father. Today, we stand before the remains of a man who was a hero in his own right—a father who simply refused to give up on his family, no matter how many punches life threw at him. And life did throw punches.

But Dad always got back up. When life handed him lemons, he made lemonade. He worked with whatever God placed in his hands and somehow found a way to make something good out of it.

Perhaps nothing captures this better than one of our endearing names for him, “Soli & Sons”. In his youthful days, Daa desired to register a company by that name, confidently anticipating sons. God, however, had other plans and blessed him mostly with daughters. So Daa simply raised his daughters to be as strong, hardworking, resilient and capable as any sons could have been.

That was our father.

Our father was service personified. No task was too menial. No work was beneath him. No person was too insignificant to deserve his help. Even into his advanced years and until his dying day, he worked, served and taught us that dignity was not in the kind of work one did, but in how faithfully one did it. He left no stone unturned to move his children from the shores of James Town, British Accra, into the corridors of academia, the health sector, the corporate world and beyond.

And to say as a father he was proud of us is an understatement! While others found wealth and satisfaction in houses and cars, he found wealth and satisfaction in his children. We repeatedly asked him to stop showcasing us. He never did.

And today, what we would give to hear him boast about us just one more time.

He knew each of us intimately and related to us according to our different personalities. So each child carries a different, precious collection of memories.

2nd Daughter - Mrs. Cynthia Ogehkuor Owusu-Antwi (née Soli) Words truly fail me when I try to express the pain and emptiness your passing has left in my heart. Losing you is one of the most difficult experiences I have ever faced. I keep asking myself how I am supposed to accept that you are no longer here, that I can no longer pick up my phone and call you, or look forward to seeing you walk through the door.

You were more than my father. You were my teacher, my protector, my helper, and one of the people I could always count on. You taught us many valuable lessons, not only through your words but, more importantly, through the life you lived. Your hard work, discipline, kindness, humility, and genuine concern for others were qualities I admired deeply and will cherish for the rest of my life.

Daddy, you were strict, but your strictness came from love. You knew the environment in which we were growing up, and because you wanted the best for us, you set boundaries and made sure we stayed within them. Our routine was simple: home, school, and church. Even our extracurricular activities were church programmes. At a time when things were not always economically easy, you still found ways to make our childhood meaningful. We had Super Mario at home, which kept us indoors, and because of that, we hardly had friends in the neighbourhood. Looking back now, I can only say, thank God for those boundaries.

You took our education very seriously. You believed that education was one of the greatest gifts you could give us, and you made sure that no reasonable resource was spared. You gave us opportunities that shaped our lives and helped make us who we are today. I particularly remember my SSS days. Daddy, you would come visiting with chocolates, and honestly, I always looked forward to those visits. Those little chocolates meant so much to me because they came from you. They were simple gestures, but they carried so much love.

Mr. Soli, you were always my first call whenever I had a problem with my car. Now, Daddy, who do I call? Whenever my car developed a fault, you were there. When my tyre went flat, you would come to my house and help me change it. You were the one who kept track of the oil, reminded me about maintenance, and made sure my car was taken care of. Now, who will do all of that for me? It is the little things that hurt the most.

Whenever Ma and I were indisposed, you would gladly pick my children up from school. You were always there to help. The children loved you so much that whenever they got access to my phone, they would call you. Now, when they call, they come to me and say, “Grandpa is not responding.” They still wonder why Grandpa has not returned from Hallelujah. They wonder why you did not go to Hallelujah with your car. Daddy, how do I explain to them that you are not coming back? How do I explain that the voice they were so used to hearing will now only live in their memories?

There is something else I cannot stop thinking about. You told me that we needed to talk. You said there were some things you wanted to tell me. Daddy, what did you want to tell me? I wish I had known that those words would become our unfinished conversation. I wish I had asked more questions. I wish I had known that time was running out.

That fateful day, you seemed fine. We talked about your birthday, which was just a week away. We spoke as we normally would, never imagining that it would be our last conversation. Little did I know that when you took your breakfast and left for the farm, I was watching you leave for the last time. Then came the call that you were not feeling well. I never imagined the outcome would be this.

When I saw you that afternoon unconscious, something inside me knew that things had changed. I knew the reality I had been praying would not come true was standing before me. Yet, even then, I held on to hope. I hoped you would wake up. I hoped you would come back to us.

But today, I am standing here having to say goodbye.

Daddy, your absence has created a space in my heart that no one can fill. I will miss your advice. We will miss your calls. I will miss your help, your presence and even those little things I sometimes took for granted.

Thank you, Daddy, for loving us in the way you knew best. Thank you for your sacrifices. Thank you for investing in our lives. Thank you for protecting us, guiding us, and giving us the foundation upon which we continue to build our lives.

Though my heart is broken, I am grateful that God gave me you as my father. Your work here is done, Daddy. You can rest now. Rest peacefully, my beloved Daddy. Until we meet again, you will forever remain in my heart. Rest well.

3rd Daughter - Miss. Leticia Ogehmle Soli I still reach for my phone to call you before I remember you’re gone. No one prepared me for how quiet the world would become without your voice in it. I miss our usual fights — the way you would argue and I would argue back. Your old shirts still smell like you. You loved us without noise, without condition, and I didn't tell you enough how much I saw it, how much I needed it. We needed to share one last konkonsa, but you left too soon before I had the full picture for the story. I kept the gist waiting for you, thinking we had all the time in the world, and now I have to tell it to your empty chair. If love could have kept you, you would have lived forever, because we loved you more than words will ever be enough to say.

You were always urging me to come home, and that we needed to talk as father and daughter. When I ask you what about, you just said 'come home'. After almost every conversation over the phone, the last question you asked me was, "When are you coming home?" When I finally came home, we barely spent time together, and you left even before we could have that conversation. You left barely a week after I came home. WHY??? I came ready to sit and listen to everything you had kept in your heart for me, but time cheated us. I thought coming home would give us more time, not take you away so soon. Now I walk around the house and every corner reminds me of the talk we never had. I keep asking myself what you wanted to tell me, and it hurts that I may never know. I would give anything to hear you say "come home" one more time.

If I had one more day, I would sit at your feet again, just to hear you call my name the way only you did. I miss you so much, Daddy. I keep replaying our last week together, wondering what I missed, what I should have said louder, what I should have done differently. You should have fought harder to stay with us, but God knows best and I am trying to accept what my heart still refuses to understand. Part of me left with you that day, and I am learning to live with a hole that will never fully heal. But I promise to make you proud, to keep the home you built and be the daughter you always believed I could be. Rest well, Dad. I love you, I miss you, and I will carry you in my heart for the rest of my life until we meet again.

Son Today, I pay my last respects to the man who made me the man I am today — my father, Mr Ebenezer Dornu Soli. Many were the lessons you taught me, some through your words, others through the way you lived, and many that I only came to understand when I became a man myself. Those lessons have shaped my character, my outlook on life, and the person I have become.

One of my earliest vivid memories of you takes me back to 1994. I remember you putting me on your Rajdoot motorcycle and riding with me from Jamestown to Korle Gonno, where you had enrolled me at St. Mary’s R/C Primary School. You handed me over to my teacher, left me with my food flask, and told me you’d be back to get me shortly.

At the time, it was simply my first day at a new school. Looking back now, I realise it represented something much greater. You would go to every length within your means to ensure that your children received an education. We did not have much, but you made sure we did not lack.

You taught us to work hard and constantly reminded us that “hard work does not break bones.” You were a humble and content man who never envied anyone. You endured difficulties, humiliation and even disrespect because you believed that one day your children would grow up to become responsible and respected members of society.

Growing up, however, I did not always understand your ways. There were moments when I genuinely thought you did not like me. You would sometimes make me apologise even when we both knew I was right. I remember one particular incident when I got into a fist fight with two boys in our neighbourhood. Although the altercation had started with them, you told me something that has remained with me throughout my life.

You said: “You may be right. But once there is a fight, if you throw a punch and the person dies, it will no longer matter that you were right. The bright future ahead of you could end in prison. And if the other person stabs you and you die, your life is equally cut short. Either way, you have lost. True strength is being able to smile and walk away.”

As a boy, I thought you were simply telling me not to fight, but as a man, I understand that you were teaching me restraint, wisdom and self-control. You were teaching me that being right is not always as important as being wise, and that true strength is sometimes demonstrated by what you have the discipline not to do. There are many things about you that only began to make sense to me as I grew older — your patience, your humility, your sacrifices, and the burdens you carried quietly for us and others.

There is one thing for which I will forever be grateful: You never forced me to follow a path I did not want.

Whenever I wanted to do something, you would simply ask, “Are you sure this is what you want?” If I said yes, you would give me your blessing and tell me to go for it. You allowed me to find my own path, make my own decisions and become my own man. That freedom is one of the greatest gifts you ever gave me.

God knows best, and He alone knows why He chose to call you home at this time. You fought a good fight, and anyone who knows you knows that you have left behind a lasting legacy, not merely in possessions, but in the lives you touched and in the children you raised.

Daa, your sacrifices were not in vain. The school fees you struggled to pay were not in vain. The humiliation you endured for us was not in vain. The lessons you taught us were not in vain. The man I am today is, in so many ways, a product of the life you lived and the sacrifices you made.

I count myself among the luckiest people in the world to have had you as my father. My siblings and I promise to continue your legacy, a legacy of humility, hard work, contentment and service. You have run your race. You have fought your good fight. Now rest, Daddy. Rest knowing that your sacrifices mattered. Rest knowing that your children are grateful. Rest knowing that your legacy lives on. May the soul of my beloved father, Mr Ebenezer Dornu Soli, rest in perfect peace. Until we meet again, Daddy. Rest well.

Dear Grandpa Ebenezer Dornu Soli,

It is difficult for us, your grandchildren, to find the right words to describe what you meant to us. Losing you has left a space in our family that cannot easily be filled. You were not only a grandfather; you were someone who gave us a steady and genuine kind of love through simple, unforgettable acts.

We will always remember the eggs from your poultry farm. They might have seemed like something small, but to us, they meant care. They meant that Grandpa wanted his grandchildren to have what they needed and to enjoy what he had worked hard to provide. Even when our parents offered to pay, you would remind us, in your own way, that family is family. Your grandchildren were not customers; we were your grandchildren, and you simply wanted us to eat. That memory will always make us smile.

We will also never forget your unique, warm smile. There was something about your smile that was unmistakably yours. These are the little things about you that we will miss more than we can put into words.

You showed up for us in ways that may have seemed ordinary at the time, but which we now realise were beautiful expressions of your love.

As your grandchildren, we will carry these memories with us wherever life takes us. We will remember the little things, the moments we may not have fully appreciated at the time, and the love you showed us in your own special way.

Though we wish we could have had more time with you, we are thankful for the time we did have. Thank you for being our grandfather, for the memories you created with us, and for the love you gave to our family.

Your smile, your laughter, your kindness, and the memories we share will remain with us always.

Our beloved Uncle Eben was truly a blessing to us. He was one of those unique people in our lives with whom we could pick up right where you left off, no matter how much time had passed.

He was our go-to for practical and DIY solutions, consistently knowing the right person or technique to help with any project. Uncle Eben was also a constant, faithful presence, always at the airport to see us off or welcome us home.

Growing up, we fondly remember excursions to his piggery and poultry farms. Those moments were not only exciting childhood adventures but also valuable opportunities where we learned skills directly from him. We cherish memories of Uncle Eben dropping us off at the Neoplan station on his motorcycle, riding in his trucks, gifts of crates of eggs, and celebrating special moments with a whole roast pork—complete with a bow tie—courtesy of Uncle Eben. His love and support were best expressed through these heartfelt acts of service.

He was there at birthdays, hospitals, graduations, once the occasion concerned us our Uncle Eben came to support us.

His sudden passing came as a great shock to us, but in all things, we give thanks to God. Today, we celebrate your life and remain deeply grateful for the impact you made in our lives .

Uncle Eben, we will miss you dearly. We take comfort in God, knowing your legacy of kindness and service will remain with us forever.

Rest well, Uncle Eben. Ayekoo, thou faithful servant of the Most High. Until we meet again, rest peacefully in the arms of the Lord.

Eben, my dear brother, what is this? Not even 24 hours’ notice and you are gone? And that's it? Wow! I thought you were the same person who kept telling me not to allow issues to bother me. "Me, I don't allow such things to bother me oo"- you would say to me when I complained about any challenges. So what happened?

My brother and I (born 1954 and 1952) were our mum's only two children for over eleven years before our other brothers, Godwin and Evans, came along so we bonded very well in our early days. Eben, though younger, was stronger and more courageous so he would always take the lead as we ran through the bush, down the hill, daily to go to L/A primary school at Odumase-Krobo in the early 1960s.

I've always admired Eben for his integrity and honesty. I remember one day in our primary school days when he was wrongly accused of having done something wrong. He received a beating each time he responded that he had not done so. If he accepted and said that he had done it, the beating would stop. But Eben never accepted it until the beater himself gave up. About a year later we found out that Eben was speaking the truth after all, and was commended for his honesty - that's my brother!

Eben was extremely hardworking; he could be relied on to get the job done. When I returned to Ghana in 2012 and I wanted to buy a car for a taxi business, Eben said: “Oh, if you have money for a taxi cab then let’s do poultry business rather.” What a great piece of advice! And I have never regretted that decision.

In the last four years, Eben has been my one remaining strong leg, collecting Day Old Chicks from the airport, organizing to buy feed, preparing the brooding room, etc., etc. He did these things efficiently and wholeheartedly. He once told me "Because I don't have big money to give you, that's why I'm supporting you in all these business activities." Eben, you did well, thank you very much because your help was worth more than money can ever do for me. Last month (August 2026) was the first time in fourteen (14) years that I had to organize my own poultry feed!

Eben, your patience at the indiscipline on our roads still baffles me. When a driver misbehaves on the road, which is very often in Accra, Eben would respond gently and allow the driver to go, while I would be very frustrated and sometimes scream at the driver. He would say: "C, if you'll worry yourself about these drivers on our roads, you'll die before your time oo." This is another reason why I cannot imagine how pressure can take away your life? In memory of you, Eben, I will try to treat the indiscipline on our roads with gentleness like you did, God be my help.

The last week before your departure was special. I spoke to you on Monday; I was in your house on Tuesday and you dropped me off in my house. On Wednesday you came to my house to organize the buying of feed. On Thursday you were in my house again, what for, I still can't remember. But I do remember your conversation with the masons working in my house. "This is my elder sister. I come after her, same mother and same father. She is not a young lady oo, “etse”. - meaning she is much older than she looks. My friends say you came to say goodbye, did you?

Then, the following day, Friday, I see you in a coma and that's it till now? Oh, how I wish I was more sensitive to the leading of the Holy Spirit to have picked up some warning signs! This is certainly devastating! The first few days when I woke up in the morning, I had to confirm to myself that it is not a dream, you were truly gone. The shock and the pain of losing you is so real, words are not enough to describe it.

But thanks be to God Almighty who has kept me in one piece till now. I take note that God has given you 72 years and has used you to be a great blessing to many and for that I am very grateful to Him. He surely has a very good reason for taking you away at this time. As Scripture says in Job 1:21 : "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the Name of the Lord be praised."

Eben, I’m sure you’ll tell me that I cannot complete this tribute without acknowledging our late mum, Mrs. Edith Kotey née Kwablah, who was there for us all our lives, most of the time playing the role of both our mother and our father and then also a strong and supportive grandmother to our children. Give our love to her (Nanaa), Nikoi, Okaile and all our loved ones over there.

My dear brother, you have fought a good fight, you have finished your race. Now rest peacefully in the bosom of our Lord Jesus Christ till we meet again on the Resurrection day.

In September 1969, 140 young boys from various schools in the country were admitted to Presec as the second intake into the newly minted Presec campus at Legon. Presec had moved to the new site after 30 years in Odumase Krobo the previous year and probably to test the systems at the new campus, the school continued with the small intake of two streams that year. After that initial test, and most likely being satisfied with the results, our class became the first to start the 4 streams as the expansion of the school began. Ebenezer was assigned to Akro House.

Ebenezer was a very affable gentleman who always had a broad smile that endeared him to us all. We most especially remember him for his exploits on the track, galloping along for his favourite 400m race. This was the genesis of his moniker, Galore. At inter house and school competitions, fans will shout and sing Galore...Galore... Galore..., as he galloped past more tested opposition in the 400m race . Thus, to us the class of 1974, he remained Galore to the end.

His ever beaming smile was symbolic of his personality. Soli was easily approachable and got on well with his mates. He was hard working and took all tasks seriously, including training for races. When there was doubt as to whether he could take on a stiff opposition for the first time, his usual smile broke out like the sun under a cloud, and he would go "If that guy has trained more than me, I'll be surprised". In the sports arena, he always kept the Ɔdadeɛ flag high, galloping for the best!

After leaving school, work and the vicissitudes of life kept us apart for a while but later on, with the advent of technology, we began to get together. A couple of years ago, some of us were able to join him as his children and family celebrated him on his 70th birthday. The shock of his passing left many of us in self-denial, with the usual calls and messages all asking, “Have you heard?” . “Galore dead?” “Was it an accident or what?” But as the French will say, "c'est la vie"-- such is life.

So as we bid farewell to our cherished mate, we extend our condolences to the wife, children and the entire family and pray that the Lord strengthen and comfort them through such a difficult time.

It is with heavy hearts that we, the staff of the Department of Agriculture, Accra Metropolitan Assembly, say farewell to a former Director, a Colleague, a Mentor and a Father. Mr. Soli served the Department for many years as a distinguished livestock specialist and later as a Metro Director. He was very experienced in livestock production, and he did not hesitate to share freely share his knowledge and experience whenever needed. He trained many livestock farmers on feeding, housing and good husbandry across the Metropolis and today a lot of such farmers are better off. Those who worked with him will always remember his kindness and humility. Whatever his position, he never carried himself above anyone. He was always smiling, and he was a true team player who believed that the work of the department belonged to everyone. His warm nature made the office feel like a family. He was also known for how well he prepared the department for the annual Farmers' Day celebration. His meticulous planning and organisational skills earned him the nickname “Mayor” ,and many of the old staff affectionately called him “Gallɔɔ.” The current Director of the department, Mr. Lawrence Dickson-Cobblah, drew great inspiration from him and received training under his tenure in organising the annual Farmers' Day and in poultry production. It was also under his leadership that the “Amen Amen Institute” became part of our annual Farmers' Day celebrations. The Institute always supported the Farmers’ Day Celebrations with cash and food donations for more than a decade, and it continued to do so even after Mr. Soli`s retirement. That was the kind of goodwill he built. Sir, you taught us by example that a leader can be humble, and a teacher can be kind. The department is richer for the years you gave it.

Death has, once again, laid its icy hands on another member of Compaweros (Comps), a group of friends and family members.

Eben Soli was known to the group and his friends, including School mates as "Galore". It was a nickname that he was given during his Secondary School days at Legon Presec, where he was a great athlete and a long- distance runner.

When Eben completed his course at Kwadaso Agriculture College and was posted to Amrahia Dairy Farm, this place became the base and meeting place for the group. We met there and socialised to take a break for the weekend from the busy working life in Accra. We all looked forward to visiting Eben at the Farm and, most of the time, return home with gallons of fresh cow milk and also eggs from a small poultry farm he had started. Eben loved his work on the farm and we sometimes accompanied him to watch the dipping and milking of the cows. So, it was not surprising that Eben’s passion for poultry farming and animal husbandry developed at an early stage of his career, and became his main business concern.

Over the years, it became very difficult for us to be meeting as a group for various reasons. However, there were few occasions and family celebrations that brought us together. For example, a reunion get-together organised by his sister, at her residence, where we dined, and reminiscence about the fun and memories that we had made during our "hey days" when we were younger. The weddings of our children also brought us together.

Eben was a friendly, generous person, family-oriented and hardworking. His desire to be successful in his Poultry business, in addition to his demanding busy schedules and commitments, even though he was retired, may have put a lot of pressure and stress on him. His sudden passing thus came as a surprise and a shock to us all, especially when he wasn't reported to be ill.

We cannot but agree with Ecclesiastes 9:11 that "...time and unexpected events overtake [us] all." And the Psalmist's words at chapter 90:10 seems not to hold comfort for us for it emphasises the shortness of life and the trouble and sorrow that accompany it. We echo the Psalmist's words at chapter 90: 12 which says: "Teach us how to count our days, so that we may acquire a heart of wisdom"

This is a reminder to us all that our life is in the hands of the Almighty God. We, however, thank God for Eben’s life and for the love and care he had shown us whilst on this earth.

Today, we gather with heavy and broken hearts to pay tribute to our beloved brother, Bra Eben, (as we affectionately called him) ,who sadly passed away at this blessed age. Your passing has left us with a lot of unanswered questions, shock and pain but we are grateful to God for the life you lived and the cherished memories you left behind.

You were a man who was easily recognised by your beautiful smile, cheerful spirit, and jovial nature. Your presence brought warmth wherever you went. You had a special way of making people feel comfortable, and your laughter and friendly conversations often brought joy to those around you. You did not need much to make people happy; your personality alone was a blessing. As a brother, you were loving, approachable, and caring and for some of us right from our childhood till date you were there for us holding our hands in times of need. You valued family relationships and were always willing to share a word of encouragement, a smile, or a helping hand. Your simplicity and humility made you someone people could easily relate to and respect.

You were also a hardworking and dedicated Agricultural Extension Officer. You devoted many years of your life to serving farmers and contributing to the development of agriculture. Through your work, you shared knowledge, encouraged good farming practices, and helped farmers improve their livelihoods. Your profession was not merely a job; it was a service to people and to the community. Your commitment to hard work was an example to many. You understood the value of patience, perseverance, and dedication—qualities that are essential both in farming and in life. Like the crops you helped farmers nurture, your life produced fruits that will continue to live on in the lives of the people you touched.

At 72, you have journeyed through many seasons of life. You experienced happiness and challenges, successes and disappointments, but through it all, you remained the smiling and jovial person we knew and loved.

Your departure has left a great emptiness in our family. We will miss your smile. We will miss your jokes and laughter. We will miss your friendly conversations and your warm presence. Most of all, we will miss you—our dear brother, friend, and hardworking agricultural professional. Though you are no longer physically with us, your memories will remain in our hearts. The lives you touched, the farmers you served, the family you loved, and the friendships you built will continue to speak of the person you were.

Rest peacefully, dear big brother. Your work here on earth is done. May the good Lord receive your gentle soul and grant you eternal rest.

You came, you served, you smiled, you worked hard, and you left a lasting legacy. Memories of love we have shared together as a family will always be cherished

“When the day of toil is gone, When the race of life is run, Father, grant thy weary one rest”.

The Hosanna Congregation of the Presbyterian Church of Ghana joins the family, friends, and loved ones of the late Mr. Ebenezer Dornu Soli in celebrating a life of dedicated service, integrity, and unwavering commitment to the work of God. Mr. Soli spent his youthful years and a significant part of his life in Jamestown, Greater Accra. In September 2002, he relocated to Ashongman and subsequently joined the Hosanna Congregation during the pastorate of the late Rev. Benjamin Okpoti Larsey.

Through his diligence, honesty, and hard work, he quickly earned the trust and admiration of the church leadership and congregation. In 2008, Mr. Soli was appointed to the Property Committee at a critical period in the church’s development. As the congregation experienced significant growth, he generously contributed his expertise to the construction of the new chapel. He also played an important role in renegotiating agreements with telecommunications companies operating masts on church property, helping to ensure more favorable terms for the church.

Under the leadership of Rev. Michael Dadebo, Mr. Soli and the Property Committee contributed immensely to the erection of the chapel pillars and the roofing of the church building. He continued to serve faithfully under Rev. W. O. Tetteh and later Rev. Winfred. During this period, he worked closely with the Harvest Committee to address outstanding debts incurred through the purchase of the church’s floor tiles. Through determination and collaborative effort, the church successfully settled the debt and completed the project.

In 2017, He was elected as a Presbyter of the Hosanna Congregation. Where he worked closely with the then Agent-in-Charge, Rev. W. O. Tetteh, to strengthen the church’s administrative systems. Together, they introduced a comprehensive documentation and labeling system for church properties, ensuring greater accountability and proper stewardship of church assets. During this period, the administrative office and the minister’s office were also constructed.

Mr. Soli demonstrated exceptional dedication during the land litigation involving the congregation, contributing significantly to the efforts toward protecting the church’s interests. In most times, he personally advanced funds to support the church’s legal and administrative expenses. By the grace of God, the church emerged victorious. Although his tenure as Presbyter ended in 2021, he remained an active and committed member of the Property Committee.

One of Mr. Soli’s final contributions to the congregation was his involvement in the construction of a new washroom facility during the tenure of Rev. John Bernard Nene Padi-Djaban. The project has reached lintel level and stands as a testament to his enduring commitment to the growth and development of the church.

Mr. Soli was a man who rose above life’s challenges through perseverance, hard work, and the grace of God. His life serves as a beacon of hope, especially to young people from humble beginnings. He was fearless in speaking the truth regardless of circumstances and was admired for his humility, wisdom, and warm personality. His dedication to the church was evident not only in the positions he held but also in the sacrifices he willingly made for the advancement of God’s work. His life exemplified faithful stewardship, selfless service, and unwavering commitment to Christ and His Church. The news of Mr. Soli’s passing on the evening of Monday, 17th August 2026, came as a great shock to the congregation. His departure has left a significant void in the church family. Yet, his legacy of service, sacrifice, humility, and courage continues to inspire us all.

Though our hearts are heavy with grief, we take comfort in the memories of your life, your service, and your unwavering faith. Your legacy will continue to inspire generations within the Hosanna Congregation and beyond. Mr. Ebenezer Dornu Soli, your labour in the Lord was not in vain. You have left footprints of faith, service, and integrity that will remain with us forever.

You fought the good fight, you finished the race, and you kept the faith. Though our hearts are broken by your passing, we take comfort in the promise that those who believe in Christ shall have eternal life. We thank God for the gift of your life and for the love and memories you leave behind. May the Lord receive you into His eternal kingdom, wipe away every tear, and grant you everlasting rest in His presence.

Yea though I walk in death's dark valey, yet will I fear no ill for thou art with me, and thy rod and staff me comfort still, Goodness and mercy all my life shall surely follow me, and in God's house for evermore my dwelling place shall be. Amen.

Eben, as everyone called him, was a pillar of the Kwablah-Kanor Lomotey We of Ada Foah Kpodjie. He was a team player and an organizer for both the old and young generations. He was good at resolving disputes amicably and willing to serve in the best interest of the family. He was generous and ready to share even his widow’s mite with anyone in need.

Due to his unwavering integrity and reliability, people tend to depend on him a lot. He was rarely absent from the family annual New Year gathering because of his love for the family. Eben, Ogehtse was a gem; a hard-working man who did not entertain failure in his dealings. He was one of the functional leaders of the family and a mentor to the younger generation. He was liked by everyone, old and young, man and woman. A great vacuum has been created by his death.

This gem with a charming smile will sorely be missed by the entire family. Ebenezer - "Thus far the Lord has brought us." (1 Samuel 7:12)