For most of my life, I never felt that I was enough for anyone. I always felt I had to prove myself worthy to be loved, to somehow become something in order to deserve love.
And I’m not even talking about romantic relationships; I mean family, friendships… just life in general.
Alhaji was probably the first person who noticed I was “different” and embraced it. He didn’t try to tone it down. He used it for my good.
Growing up, I became wary whenever a new acquaintance, friend, boss, or teacher complimented me for my confidence and assertiveness, because sooner or later, they would become uncomfortable, and what was once called “confidence” would suddenly become “recalcitrance.”
But Alhaji never tried to clip my wings. He allowed me to soar.
There were days when he would come to me and say,
“Dzradosi, what do you think about this? I know you’ll tell me the truth.”
He was always happy when I was open and honest with my feedback. Before I met Alhaji, I had to hide that part of myself. I suppressed my bluntness because it often got me into trouble and created more foes than friends.
While producing his show, Behind the Headlines, some of my co-producers found it difficult to direct him, especially when he spent too much time on one topic. I didn’t care. I would walk into the studio and tell him to end the segment and move to the next.
He would look visibly upset, but he would obey and apologize to his “cherished listeners,” as he called them.
A year later, he told me I was the best producer he had ever worked with and that he would gladly go on record to attest to that at any time in the future.
In 2016, on a Wednesday afternoon, Alhaji called me into his office. He had just received a call from the University of Ghana management requesting someone to serve as the reporter for the livestream of the 2016 congregation.
“I want you to do it,” he said. “You can do it, Dzradosi.”
I wasn’t sure. I had never done live reporting, especially on television.
“You must be at the Great Hall in three hours for rehearsal. The event is tomorrow,” he continued.
I froze.
I had one mission: not to disappoint Alhaji.
I arrived at the Great Hall around 5:30 p.m., only to meet the CEO of Mido Production and former TV3 Mentor judge, Mr. Dominic Ansa-Asare. I was stunned. He was known to be a perfectionist, and there I was with no experience.
After two takes, he looked at me and said,
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
That was it. And just like that, my TV reportage journey began, because one man trusted me enough and believed I could do it. And I did.
At Radio Univers, I was known as Alhaji’s favourite. Anytime the team needed him to make certain decisions, they sent me, and yes, it always worked.
Soon, Alhaji began telling his friends and family about me. One of them was Dr. Wereko-Brobbey. Alhaji introduced me as his most trusted volunteer. Dr. Wereko-Brobbey later invited me to join his team to gather signatures for his TV licence abolishment campaign, and he eventually helped pay my Level 300 fees when I was struggling.
Alhaji showed me a kind of love that was steady, affirming, and rare.
I didn’t have to buy him gifts, make grand gestures, be humble, be religious, or be anything other than myself to be loved.
I believe soulmates are not only romantic. They exist in friendships too.
Alhaji wasn’t just my boss, my friend, or my confidant. He was my soulmate.
We shared similar personalities. We couldn’t pretend to feel what we didn’t. We were both deeply attentive and logical. If something didn’t make sense, we didn’t pretend it did. We questioned it.
He preferred that I made his evening tea.
“My able producer, Dzradosi.”
Oh, how I would give anything to hear that one last time.
Our first encounter felt magical. I had never instantly connected with anyone the way I did with Alhaji.
Alhaji, I miss you so much, it hurts.
I always prayed that God would keep you alive until I returned to Ghana so I could introduce my son to you.
If there was anyone in this world who would have understood the battles I’ve fought, it would have been you. But I would never have given you my cross to carry. You already had enough on your plate.
Since the day I walked into your universe at Radio Univers, my life has never been the same.
You didn’t just give me opportunities, you sharpened my thinking, refined my courage, and affirmed my voice.
Because you trusted me early, I learned to trust myself.
Because you allowed me to lead, I stopped shrinking.
Because you believed I was capable, I stopped apologizing for taking up space.
Today, I am not just the young producer you once called “your able producer.”
I am a mother raising a son with strength.
I am a woman who crossed continents and rebuilt her life from scratch.
The intelligence you saw in me did not fade. It evolved.
The assertiveness people once misunderstood became my survival tool.
The honesty that once made others uncomfortable became my compass.
You may not be here to see the woman I have become, but every milestone carries your fingerprint.
I know you are not here to read this, and that hurts. But this write-up exists so that even in 50 years, people will read it and know who you were.
I love you and always will.
Dr. Abubakar Sidick Ahmed,
Your legacy lives on. Forever.
—
Authored by Nancy Emefa Dzradosi
(Former Radio Univers volunteer; News Editor; Host of Yaa Asantewaa and Producer of Behind the Headlines (2014–2017))
