Manasseh Azure writes a tribute to Naa Ashorkor
When I arrived at Peduase Valley Resort for Yvonne Nelson’s book launch, the first known face I saw was Naa Ashorkor. After we exchanged not-so-pleasant pleasantries, I told her how proud I was of her. She wasn’t used to hearing kind words from me, so she probably treated that compliment like a political promise or […] The post Manasseh Azure writes a tribute to Naa Ashorkor appeared first on MyNewsGh.
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When I arrived at Peduase Valley Resort for Yvonne Nelson’s book launch, the first known face I saw was Naa Ashorkor. After we exchanged not-so-pleasant pleasantries, I told her how proud I was of her. She wasn’t used to hearing kind words from me, so she probably treated that compliment like a political promise or how I’d treat a compliment from Abdul Hayi Moomen.
Naa Ashorkor was the emcee for the book launch, and I sat through, inhaling her eloquence, intelligence and humour with an enormous admiration. She’s a master of her craft.
When I gained admission to the Ghana Institute of Journalism (GIJ) in 2006, Nisirine Mensah-Doku was one of the 48 students admitted to study for a degree in Communication Studies. While we were yet to find our bearings in the tiny GIJ campus, Nisrine was already on TV Africa, presenting the morning show and later hosting the weekend music programme, Sound Splash.
The owner of TV Africa, Kwaw Ansah, is a passionate promoter of African culture and heritage. As part of the pan-African TV station’s policy, reporters and presenters were required to use their African names on air, so Nisirine became Naa Ashorkor.
From TV presentation, Naa Ashorkor landed movie roles, notably Shirley Frimpong-Manso’s “Perfect Picture.”
Whenever I saw her on TV, I boastfully proclaimed my association with her. “She’s in my class,” I would say. I would have enhanced my bragging rights in some quarters if I had photos with her to show. But that was the era when phones were dumb and humans were smart. Before the reversal of roles, phones advanced enough to take photos belonged to a tiny social class to which I could only aspire to belong.
Back in class, I would not concede to Naa Ashorkor that I used her to “collect fans.” I used to tell the ladies in the class, who claimed I possessed a sharp tongue, to get my autograph before I became an important person and not mind them.
Because of the smallness of our class, everybody knew everybody. (Out of the 48 students who started Level 100, some were withdrawn because of allegations that they had falsified their SSSCE results to gain admission. One popular guy would not confirm or deny the charge. He stopped coming to class, and if anyone called him, he whispered that he was in the banking hall and would return the call. Hopefully, he will complete his banking transaction and call back this evening.)
Their departure made our class even smaller. We knew almost everything about everybody, and if you missed a gossip, you could be sure to have an update from Mashud. (May his soul rest in peace.)
The banter between the men and the ladies could be brutal, the reason Naa Ashorkor did not expect any kind words from me. The ladies said we were small boys. Doris Baidoo, for instance, missed no chance to remind us that our girlfriends and future wives were still in high school and junior high school.
As one of the meanest boys in the class, I was the de facto spokesperson for my gender. I reminded the ladies that we were happy to let others take our old women so we could wait for the young ladies.
Outside the class, however, I boasted about the only movie star in my class. (Later, when ASEM became a popular music star, I told my friends he was in my school). Naa Ashorkor was, however, my classmate. That felt closer and carried more weight.
Out of that class have emerged many men and women serving humanity in important capacities home and abroad. I single Naa Ashorkor out for celebration because of her incredible and impactful hard work.
She tasted fame’s sweetness very early in life, but even before she became a gymming enthusiast, she did not allow the fattening calories of fame to swell her head.
(By the way, our class had the student with the biggest head. The shape of that head would have excited phrenologists. Today, he is a lawyer in the United Kingdom, and for the fear of any legal tussles, I will avoid his name, except to add that big brain Shaibu Abubakar Adama is a strong Guinness World Records contender for the man with the strongest seed. On each of the three occasions his wife went to the labour ward, she delivered twins.)
Despite starring in movies and stage plays, Naa Ashorkor did not abandon journalism. She has excelled as a broadcaster at Starr FM, Joy FM, Asaase Radio and now co-hosts TV3’s morning show.
She’s the CEO of April Communications, collaborating with George Quaye’s Image Bureau to produce great stage plays in Ghana and beyond. Naa Ashorkor is a producer and acts in the plays she produces. She’s also learning how to direct.
Besides multitasking and excelling at different jobs, Naa Ashorkor has been busy in class. She returned to GIJ to obtain a master’s degree in public relations. She has completed her LLB at the University of Ghana and is currently studying at the Ghana School of Law.
Dear Naa Ashorkor, this is not a eulogy or an apology for my biting banter. As a journalist, producer, law student, actor and mother, it takes immense hard work to combine these roles and excel. If you breathed your last today, I would write this. It’s more beneficial to say it while you are alive.
I’m immensely proud of you. And I mean it.
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