Ninety years ago, a whisper stirred,
In Accra’s heart, a voice was heard.
Not loud at first, not known by name,
Yet strong enough to light a flame.
From static sparks and vinyl spins,
To towers tall and signal winds,
It rose — Ghana’s trusted sound,
A nation’s mirror, deep and profound.
Through colonial dark and freedom’s dawn,
When hope was frail and dreams were worn,
GBC stood — no sword, no shield,
Just truth and voice, the people’s field.
In Coup detats and peace, in storm and calm,
Its stories soothed like healing balm.
It bore our grief, it shared our pride,
It walked with us, not once aside.
It knew the crackle of a soldier’s cry,
The lullaby of a mother’s sigh.
It felt the drumbeat of our lands,
The pulse of hearts, the work of hands.
It gave the voiceless strength to speak,
The brave a place, the lost to seek.
In every dialect, song, and rhyme,
It froze our soul in waves of time.
But oh! beneath the studio light,
Were countless ghosts who fought the fight.
Men and women, unsung, unknown,
Who gave their all — their minds, their tone.
They stayed through night, ignored the fame,
They built this house, though none know their name.
So when you hear that GBC chime,
You’re hearing blood, and sweat, and time.
Now ninety years — a nation’s breath,
Still telling truth, still fearing death.
Still battling odds, still bearing scars,
Yet dreaming still beneath the stars.
GBC, you are not just old —
You are a tale forever told.
You are our mirror, cracked yet clear,
You are the voice we hold most dear.
So let the trumpet gently blow,
Let every screen and speaker show —
That in this world of fleeting flame,
GBC still dares to claim its name.
A legacy, both bold and bright —
A beacon in Ghana’s endless night.
And when your towers fall one day,
Your echoes still will find their way.
Written by Perry TK Nartey.
Consultant Producer Director
narteyperry@yahoo.com
