A Heartfelt Tribute by Hon. Simon Yaw Awadzi, Senior Administrative Officer – NDC Headquarters
Written in honour and memory, Wednesday, August 6, 2025
There are days in a man’s life when words fail, when memory becomes a burden, and when sorrow takes the place of breath. Today is one such day.
As I sit here in the quiet of my room, holding back waves of grief that threaten to drown my spirit, I write this account not as an official, not as a senior staff of the National Democratic Congress Headquarters, but as a brother in the struggle, a witness to yesterday’s events, and most painfully, a bearer of one of the last assignments from the late Dr. Samuel Sarpong.
This is my encounter with him, exactly one day before his sudden and shocking demise. It is a moment etched forever in my heart, and I feel duty-bound to put it in words, no matter how broken those words may sound.
AN ORDINARY MORNING THAT BECAME HISTORY
I have worked at the NDC Headquarters for over twenty years. Throughout these decades of service, it has been my discipline to report to the office by 8:30 a.m. without fail. That routine, which I have come to treat as sacred, was not broken yesterday, Tuesday, the 5th of August, 2025.
By 9:30 a.m., I was fully at my desk going through usual morning routines when a young comrade known among us as Tilapia came over with a message. He said, “Boss, Dr. Sarpong says he wants to see you.”
I responded immediately. Dr. Sarpong was not the type of leader to summon without reason. He did not waste time, and more importantly, he respected everyone’s time junior or senior. That alone speaks volumes of his character.
When I got to his office, I saw a number of people already present. As usual, he was attending to comrades some known, some new, many of them from the grassroots level. Dr. Sarpong always had time for the base of the party. You didn’t have to schedule an appointment to meet him. He was a listening ear and a helping hand. If you were hungry, he gave you food. If you were in need, he gave what little he had. You never needed to beg. He gave because he cared.
As I walked in, he greeted me with his usual calm smile and said:
“Simon, I want you to draft a letter of introduction for me. We need to send it to one of the Ministries. We are looking for job opportunities for some of our people, and it has to be done properly.”
I nodded. He trusted me with writing because over the years, we had developed a working relationship based on accuracy, loyalty, and diligence.
However, the process wasn’t quick. Due to some technical and administrative challenges beyond my control, including issues with formatting, delays with the printer, and back-and-forth approvals, the drafting of the letter took far longer than expected. But he never got upset. He waited. He was patient. And eventually, we completed it.
THE CONVERSATION WITH THE PRO
Once the letter was ready and signed, I humbly advised him:
“Boss, I think you should call the PRO of the Ministry and alert him about the letter. It helps to give him a heads-up before I take it there, just so it doesn’t go unacknowledged.”
Before that moment, I had tried reaching the PRO myself, but he had not picked up my calls. I suspected he might have been busy with official programs. I even suggested to Dr. Sarpong that perhaps the PRO might respond if the call came from him directly.
True to form, as soon as Dr. Sarpong placed the call, the PRO picked. That alone shows the kind of weight his name carried, and also the level of respect he had across official circles.
They spoke clearly and professionally. I overheard parts of the conversation, and I remember vividly that the PRO said he would be available tomorrow, which is today, Thursday. That was the agreement: I was to deliver the letter on Thursday, and the two, Dr. Sarpong and the PRO, would meet personally thereafter to move the process forward.
After their conversation ended, Dr. Sarpong turned to me and did something that touched me deeply. He gave me transportation for what we commonly call TNT to ensure that I would have no challenges getting to the Ministry and delivering the letter in good time. It was not just about giving money. It was a gesture of trust, of seriousness, and of his unwavering commitment to the cause of helping others.
“Make sure you send it personally,” he said. “This is for our people. Let’s make it happen
THE FINAL GLANCE AT FEC
Later in the afternoon, I had another assignment which took me to the Functional Executive Committee (FEC) meeting room. I had to pass on some information to him through Mr. Zumakpeh. When I entered, I saw him seated with many other familiar faces, stalwarts of the party, national officers, and comrades of high repute. There was a seriousness in the air, but also a sense of routine.
As I handed over the information, Dr. Sarpong glanced in my direction. That was the last time I laid eyes on him.
He looked focused, calm, and determined—as he always did when it came to matters of party organisation and national strategy. Little did I know that this would be our final interaction in this life.
THEN THE DARK NEWS CAME
This morning, when the news broke that he had died in a tragic incident, I was paralysed. I could not move. I could not think. It felt like a dream no, a nightmare. How could it be? I was with him just yesterday. We worked. We spoke. We planned.
The most painful part of it all was the report that their bodies were burned beyond recognition. Is that how a man of such honour, integrity, and loyalty should go? Is that the ending destiny had planned for such a beautiful soul?
It is not my place to question God. But it is my place to grieve, to remember, and to honour.
BEYOND TITLES – THE MAN HE WAS
Dr. Samuel Sarpong was more than a politician. He was a bridge between the high and the low, the elite and the grassroots. He lived not in the corridors of power but in the homes of the ordinary. You could be from a remote village in Ashanti, or a fisherman’s son from Keta—he would give you audience.
He did not carry his political titles like a crown. He wore them like working tools. As a former Regional Minister, a respected strategist, and a man close to the highest corridors of power, he never let it get to his head.
I have known other giants in our movement. I remember Alhaji Muniru when he served as a P.A to Hon. Alex Segbefia at the Ministry of Health before becoming Northern Regional Minister. I know Alhaji Murtala, a man of fire and forthrightness. And as for Dr. Edward Omane Boamah, I remember his days as Minister of Communications and how closely he worked with President Mahama before moving to Defence.
But even among these men, Dr. Sarpong stood out as quiet, gentle, and consistent.
MAY HE REST IN PEACE
To lose such a man is to lose more than a person. It is to lose an energy, a heartbeat, and a part of our collective memory as a party.
What we know is that God knows best. But surely, this cannot be the death that he deserved. This is not the end that a man like him should meet. The pain is deep, the questions are many, and the healing will take time.
This is my humble, personal encounter with Dr. Samuel Sarpong on the last full day of his life—Tuesday, August 5, 2025.
May his soul, and the souls of all who passed with him, find comfort in the bosom of the Lord.
May the fire that took their bodies never burn away the impact of their lives.
And may we, the living, never forget that greatness is found not in power, but in how we serve those beneath us.
Rest well, Dr. Sarpong. You will be missed. You will be remembered. You will be honoured.
Damirifa due. Due ne amanehunu.
