Category: Ghana News

Blog Series, Everyday Life, Ghana News, Ghana's Political Economy, Ghanaian Politics, Political Satire & Fiction, Politics, The Bandage Economy

Episode 7: Enemies Tell the Truth

Dr. George Asiamah

The night deepened at Agyakrom Arena. Cedi crouched in the dust, panting, his bandage damp with sweat and whispers. The steroids in his blood had dimmed; each punch now felt like an overdraft. The crowd still clapped, but their rhythm was half-hearted, like churchgoers forced to sing a hymn they don’t know the tune to.

Then something unusual happened: the giants stopped fighting.

Instead of charging, Dollar, Pound, and Euro stood tall, brushing dust from their shoulders. They looked at Cedi – not with scorn this time, but with the weary patience of creditors who have seen too many debtors at their desk. One by one, they spoke—not to taunt, but to teach.

Dollar’s Confession

Dollar stepped forward, his voice booming like oil rigs in the Niger Delta.

“Cedi, hear me. I am not just your enemy; I am your addiction. Every time you thirst for fuel, you come running to me. Every time you borrow, you do it in my name. You waste your reserves trying to tame me, but you never ask why you need me so much.

Build your own refineries, cut your deficits, grow exports, and I will lose my grip on your throat. Until then, I am your oxygen. And if you don’t manage your breath, you will choke.”

Cedi lowered his eyes. He remembered the endless fuel queues of old, the heavy import bills, the sleepless nights of central bankers.

Pound’s Sermon

Pound polished his monocle and cleared his throat like a colonial headmaster.

“Cedi, every September you flood to me with tuition fees, remittances, and consultancy payments. You drain yourself financing dreams abroad while your own schools hunger for chalk. Spare parts, luxury imports, legal advice – you lean on me for all.

Train your own teachers, fix your industries, grow your skills at home. Then I will stop being your examiner. Until then, I am your headmaster, and I mark in sterling.”

Cedi felt the sting. He saw parents selling land to send children abroad, businesses wiring pounds for spare parts, officials hiring British consultants to solve problems Ghanaian brains could have solved.

Euro’s Lecture

Euro shuffled his files, stacked neatly like regulations in Brussels.

“Cedi, your bandage will not protect you from me. You import my machines, my pharmaceuticals, my wheat, my vehicles. My standards control your exports. Until you process cocoa into chocolate, until your farmers meet sanitary tests, until your industries add value, you will remain chained to my clipboard.

Diversify, industrialise, and I will become your market instead of your master. Ignore this, and every cargo ship docking at Tema will remind you who holds the pen.”

Cedi clenched his fists, but he could not deny the truth. Even cocoa – the pride of his veins—was exported raw, only to return as imported chocolate bars.

The Old Wise Man Nods

From under the baobab, the Old Wise Man raised his staff and chuckled.

“Nokware nsuo nom yɛ den.
(Truth is a hard water to swallow.)

Sometimes, even your enemies tell you the bitter truth your friends hide. Do not hate the water because it is hard; drink it and grow teeth.”

The apprentices asked, “Grandfather, why would enemies help?”

He replied: “Because they don’t need to lie. Their profit is secure. It is your pride that blinds you. A man drowning in the river may refuse the insult, but he cannot refuse the water.”

Cedi’s Reflection

For the first time, Cedi did not roar back. He sat quietly, staring at the dust. The ache under the bandage pulsed with each word.

He realised the giants were not just bullies – they were mirrors. They exposed his weaknesses: oil dependence, education outflows, import addiction. He could fight them forever and lose, or he could listen and heal.

Policy Reflection – When Enemies Tell the Truth

  • Dollar’s truth: Ghana’s dependence on oil imports and borrowing drains reserves. Real cure = refinery capacity, fiscal discipline, and export diversification.
  • Pound’s truth: Tuition, remittances, spare parts, and consultancy dependence funnel cedis into pounds. Real cure = strengthen education, industrial base, and domestic services.
  • Euro’s truth: Standards and imports tie Ghana to Europe. Real cure = add value to exports, meet standards, and industrialise.

Lesson: External powers may sound arrogant, but their pressure exposes internal weaknesses. Their insults are uncomfortable data.

Blog Series, Ghana News, Ghana's Political Economy, Ghanaian Politics, The Bandage Economy

Episode 4: Murmurs from the Market

Dr. George Asiamah

The arena still echoed with cheers for Cedi. The trotro mates whistled victory tunes, the kelewele sellers sang exchange-rate choruses, and even the drunk palm wine tappers staggered in to declare, “Our boy is back! Dollar is limping!”

But while the stadium roared, the real world – the quiet, unforgiving marketplace – remained unimpressed. Markets do not clap; they calculate.

The Tomatoes Speak

At Makola, tomatoes sat in their baskets, glistening under the sun.

One tomato whispered to the other:
“So, they say Cedi is now a lion on the battlefield.”

The other replied:
“Lion or lizard, did you see the cost of transport? My journey from Navrongo to Accra is still paid in diesel, and diesel bows to Dollar. Let Cedi run laps in the arena; my price will not fall just because the crowd is excited.”

The women selling them nodded in agreement, adjusting their headscarves.

The Fuel Frowns

At the pumps, fuel yawned and stretched.

“Look at them,” fuel said, watching the arena fireworks on a small TV. “Cheering as if my liters care about hashtags. Until the refinery sings, and until government taxes loosen their belt, I will not bow. Cedi can do press-ups on steroids, but I – fuel – still listen to global oil prices, not local slogans.”

A taxi driver grumbled, wiping sweat from his brow:
“So, this miracle rate, why hasn’t my tank clapped for me yet?”

Cement Crosses Its Arms

Cement sat in its dusty bag at the hardware shop, shoulders broad and unmoved.

“Exchange rates dance every day,” Cement growled. “But my story is longer. Energy costs, shipping fees, raw materials—all of them still salute the giants. If Cedi wants me to fall in price, he must win the marathon, not just the sprint. For now, I remain heavy.”

The mason sighed. “So my building project still sleeps. Even after this miracle, blocks still cost like I’m building with gold.”

The Market as Chorus

Everywhere the same chorus rose:

  • Soap in Kaneshie: “We were imported at the old rate. We cannot turn into charity overnight.”
  • Rice in Kumasi: “Until local harvests replace me, my price is chained to ships, not cheers.”
  • Pharmaceuticals in Tema: “We bow to Euro’s clipboard, not Cedi’s sprint.”

The people began to murmur. “If Cedi has defeated Dollar and slapped Pound, why are our pockets still crying? Why is kenkey still arguing with transport fares? Why does waakye ignore the exchange rate headline?”

The Old Wise Man Under the Baobab

The Old Wise Man listened as the murmurs reached him. He tapped his staff and declared:

“Ɛsono afu gye mmerɛ ansa na aprɔ“
(The elephant may be dead, but its belly takes time to collapse.)

He explained:
“When Cedi rises in the arena, it does not mean prices will fall tomorrow. Traders bought their stock at yesterday’s rate, so they price for yesterday’s pain. Wholesalers fear tomorrow’s uncertainty, so they pad today’s price. And taxes and levies are glue on the price tag; even when the exchange rate breathes out, the levies keep breathing in.”

The apprentices nodded. “So, Grandfather, victory in the arena is not the same as peace in the market?”

He smiled. “The stomach listens to the kitchen, not the stadium. The day we plant enough, process enough, and save enough, then the kitchen will finally clap for the arena.”

Policy Reflection – Why Prices Stay Sticky

  • Import Lags: Goods already in shops were purchased at old rates. Prices don’t adjust immediately.
  • Expectations: Traders hedge against possible future depreciation by keeping prices high even when Cedi rises.
  • Taxes & Levies: Petroleum, utilities, and cement prices are cushioned (or worsened) by taxes and regulatory margins that don’t move with the forex rate.
  • Structural Weakness: Local production is too weak; we depend on imports for food, fuel, medicine, and construction. Until that changes, forex improvements won’t translate quickly.

Lesson: A “miracle” exchange rate does not mean instant cheaper prices. The market runs on memory, caution, and structure – not on applause.

Blog Series, Ghana News, Ghana's Political Economy, Ghanaian Politics, Political Satire & Fiction, Politics, The Bandage Economy

Prologue: The Cedi Vs. The Giants

Dr. George Asiamah

Long before the drums beat at Agyakrom Arena, the fate of Cedi was already whispered in chop bars, lorry parks, and Parliament corridors.

Cedi was no ordinary fighter. He was born in 1965, young and ambitious, wrapped in national pride like kente on Independence Day. At birth, he carried cocoa in one hand, gold in the other, and oil hidden beneath his skin. His parents promised him glory:
“You will stand tall among the giants. You will not beg; you will command.”

But the world is not a fair marketplace. The giants – Dollar, Pound, and Euro – had been in the ring for centuries, bulging with the muscles of empire, trade, and industry. They had their networks, their soldiers, their standards, their debts. They did not just fight with fists; they fought with memories.

Cedi grew up in this world, always smaller, always hustling. Sometimes he rose with swagger, sometimes he fell with shame. He had seen coups and slogans, IMF infusions and debt write-offs, promises and disappointments. He had been bandaged, boosted, and broken more times than the crowd could count.

Yet the people of Agyakrom never gave up on him. Every election, they dressed him in a new uniform, gave him a new commander, and shouted, “This time, he will conquer!” The crowd’s memory was short, but their hope was long.

The arena itself was merciless. Every import, every school fee, every litre of fuel was another punch. Every cocoa harvest, every gold sale, every donor inflow was another jab back. Victories were rare, defeats were common, but the spectacle never ended.

The elders said:

“Sɛ anomaa anntu a, ɔbuada.”
(If the bird does not fly, it starves.)

Cedi might never soar like Dollar or Pound, but he had to perch somewhere sturdy – or risk falling forever.

This is the story of Cedi: a fighter wounded and revived, mocked and applauded, sprinting on borrowed steroids, and finally learning that his survival depends not on miracles but on habits. It is the story of Ghana’s economy, told in the dust and sweat of a ring where applause is loud but stomachs are louder.

The battle of Cedi is not just about exchange rates; it is about identity, resilience, and the stubborn hope of a people who refuse to stop cheering, even when their pockets are empty.

And so, the drums beat again. The giants tighten their gloves. The medics prepare their syringes. The Old Wise Man sharpens his proverbs. And the crowd leans forward, asking the eternal question:

“Can Cedi stand?”

Click to Read Episode One – The Fall of the Cedi

Agyakrom Blog Series, Ghana News, Ghana's Political Economy, Ghanaian Politics, Political Satire & Fiction, Politics

Episode 2: At Long Last… Agyakrom is Free!

Dr. George Asiamah

“When the drums of freedom beat, even the slowest beast begins to dance.”

By the early 20th century, young beasts in Agyakrom demanded answers. Beasts who read the colonial scrolls and saw the hypocrisy. Beasts who had drunk both palm wine and European philosophy. Beasts who demanded a Free Jungle.

One of them stood tall.

He was fast.
He was fierce.
He was relentless.

His name? Kwame the Visionary Panther.

Not born into wealth.
Not descended from chieftain trees.
But his speed was unmatched – both in thought and in speech.

He returned from the icy forests of foreign lands with a tail full of socialist theories, a mane full of Pan-African dreams, and a scroll titled “Positive Action.”

The UGCC and the Great Split

Before the Panther returned to Agyakrom, there existed a cautious committee of beasts known as the United Grove for Common Creatures (UGCC). Composed of owls, elder elephants, scholarly squirrels, and coconut-sipping lawyers, this elite circle wanted the colonial zookeeper gone – but politely. Through letters. Through procedures. Through distant petitions and gentlemanly growls.

They needed a spark. A beast with a voice that could rally the groundlings, not just the treehouse elites.

So they summoned the Panther – fresh from foreign groves, fire in his bones, socialism on his breath. Educated in the books of faraway lands, but burning with the fury of local injustice, the Panther spoke not like a bureaucrat, but like a prophet.

At first, he served them dutifully – the UGCC’s roarer-in-chief. But soon, friction brewed. The Panther moved too fast. Dreamed too loud. Called for immediate freedom, while the elders still debated resolutions.

He was bold. They were cautious.

He roared: “Self-rule now! Not next year, not when approved by colonial tail-waggers. Now!”

And so he broke off. He formed his own rebel camp. He built the Crop Protection Party (CPP) – a movement not of parchment and protocol, but of farmers, fisher-beasts, and furious youth.

He mobilised monkeys in the markets, drummers in the bush, cocoa porters, cassava vendors, and even the goats who had never been counted in jungle censuses.

Positive Action and the Beast Awakening

Under the Panther’s call, the jungle stirred. Farmers refused to send cocoa to colonial depots.
Teachers marched out of classrooms. Market mamas sang protest songs at dawn. Young cubs – who once only fetched water and memorised empire poems – began distributing leaflets and climbing platform trees to speak.

The colonial gatherers and zookeepers panicked. They arrested the Panther.

But that only made him a martyr.

While he sat in silence, his name echoed through the vines. His image spread across banana leaflets. His supporters, fierce and loyal, would not rest.

“Free the Panther!”
“The jungle must be ours!”
“Down with the Bulldog Empire!”

The Election That Changed the Jungle

In 1951, the hunters and the gatherers – realising the jungle’s heat could no longer be managed with cold treaties – organised an election.

The Panther ran from his prison cell.

And he won.

Landslide.

The message was clear: the jungle no longer wanted caretakers in suits.

It wanted leaders who ran with the people.

The Independent Jungle

Right from the start, the Panther did not rest. He dreamt big. Lived large. Built fast.

Banana factories. Coconut oil refineries. Cashew trains stretching across canopy corridors. He constructed cocoa processing hubs. He summoned engineers to build the mighty Volta Dam, a monument to modernity that promised power for all. The Black Star shipping fleet roamed the seas.

He didn’t stop at infrastructure. He wrote books. He launched five-year plans. He gave speeches that turned parrots into philosophers and squirrels into citizens.

African beasts across the continent looked to Agyakrom and said: “If they can run free, so can we.”

The Panther became not just a leader, but a symbol.

His dreams were continental. He envisioned a Union of Forest States. He funded liberation struggles in neighbouring groves. He hosted pan-jungle conferences where beasts debated unity in twenty dialects.

To the West, he was dangerous. To the oppressed, he was divine.

He welcomed revolutionaries.
He built a new capital.
He preached unity.

He declared:

“The independence of Agyakrom is meaningless unless it is linked with the total liberation of the African jungle!”

But… 

JUNGLE WISDOM OF THE DAY

“When the chains fall off the paws, the mind must still unlearn the leash.”

Ghana News, Ghana's Political Economy, Ghanaian Politics, Politics, Uncategorised

Episode 1: In the Beginning… There Was a Jungle

Dr. George Asiamah

Every jungle has a history. But not every beast remembers.

Long before thrones, ballots, slogans, and scandals, there was a vast land in the western belly of the African continent – a place of gold, rivers, thick forests, and proud beasts.

They called it Agyakrom.

It was not yet a republic.

It was not yet even a country.

It was a patchwork of powerful animal clans – Asante Porcupines, Ewe Antelopes, Mole-Dagbani Buffalos, Fante Octopuses, Ga jackals, and many more – each with their own kings, traditions, markets, shrines, and seasonal drumbeats.

They lived not in utopia, but in order.

The rivers flowed with rhythm.

The forests echoed with proverbs.

The elders ruled with stools, not scrolls.

And then – the hunters came.

The Coming of the Hunters and Gatherers

No one knows exactly when the first Hunter ship hit the shores. But the river whispers tell of the time when strange, light-skinned creatures – two-legged, clothed in iron and greed – arrived with crosses, coins, and chains.

They came bearing gifts: mirrors, rum, muskets, and the Holy Scroll.

But beneath their cloaks were ledgers.

The jungle called them The Gatherers.

Because that’s what they did.

They gathered:

                  •               Gold from the Lion caves,

                  •               Ivory from the forest bones,

                  •               Palm oil from the Monkey Groves,

                  •               And worst of all, beasts themselves – from the weakest cubs to the strongest buffaloes.

They said they had come to civilise.

But civilisation came with shackles.

For over three hundred rainy seasons, Agyakrom watched its children carried across oceans.

And when the chains were finally lifted, the Gatherers returned – not with whips, but with Rule.

The Jungle Becomes a Colony

They called it a protectorate.

Then a colony.

Then a gold coast – not because of the coast, but because of the gold.

They drew borders like scratch marks on a termite map.

They made laws in languages no beast spoke.

They crowned chiefs they could control.

They introduced currency, courts, and new religion – leaving confusion and conversion in equal measure.

The Jungle Parliament? Replaced by District Commissions.

The beast customs? Replaced by colonial codes.

The jungle’s soul? Traded for infrastructure and flags.

Agyakrom, the free land of many tribes, became a colony.

And the beasts began to forget they were once sovereign.

But as every wise monkey knows:

You can cage a lion, but you cannot silence the growl forever.

The Rise of the Roaring Beasts

By the early 20th century, the jungle began to stir.

Young beasts – some educated abroad, some trained in the colonial classrooms, others shaped by the fireside wisdom of their elders – began to ask dangerous questions.

“Why must we fetch water for their baths while our rivers run dry?”

“Why must our cocoa feed their children, but not ours?”

The great independence struggle was born.

JUNGLE WISDOM OF THE DAY

A Beast that forgets where it came from will never know where it is going

Watch Out for Episode 2: The Struggle for Independence

Energy Policy, Ghana News, Ghana's Political Economy, Ghanaian Politics, Politics

Pay 1 Cedi to End Dumsor? Structural Constraints vs Fiscal Fixes

Dr. George Asiamah

On 4 June 2025, Ghana’s Parliament passed a controversial bill introducing a one-cedi per litre levy on petroleum products – framed as a necessary intervention to address the ever-growing debt in the energy sector and, ultimately, to end the country’s lingering electricity supply challenges, popularly known as “dumsor.” The ruling NDC government justified the move by pointing fingers at the mismanagement of the previous administration, suggesting that the Energy Sector Recovery Programme had failed to achieve its intended financial restructuring. Now, they argue, it falls upon the public to pay – not for their sins, but for those of their predecessors. The catch? They promise this is the last push, the final Cedi to buy stability. One more sacrifice so we may see the light, literally.

But this move raises deeper questions about Ghana’s fiscal and political architecture, the nature of state-society relations, and the recurring tension between revenue mobilisation and public trust. While on the surface, the D-Levy is merely an energy financing mechanism, at its core, it exemplifies the political economy of managing scarcity, debt, and blame in a fragile democracy. Ghana has been here before. Levies have often emerged as government tools of last resort – temporary solutions that quietly become permanent fiscal burdens. Recall the price stabilisation levy, the sanitation levy, and more recently, the infamous e-levy. Many were billed as short-term interventions. Few were repealed. Even fewer were transparently accounted for.

To understand the deeper dilemma, one must examine the contradiction embedded in this levy. On the one hand, government presents it as an unavoidable necessity – the only path to restructuring the crippling legacy debt owed to Independent Power Producers (IPPs), fuel suppliers, and financiers. On the other, it insists that the cost to consumers will be negligible because the Cedi has recently appreciated, causing a marginal drop in pump prices. This is a risky fiscal narrative. It assumes currency appreciation is stable, and that petroleum product prices are not volatile. But in Ghana, neither is guaranteed. In fact, both are shaped by exogenous global shocks, domestic political risks, and structural vulnerabilities. To peg the justification for a permanent levy to a temporary macroeconomic blip is, at best, politically disingenuous.

Moreover, this levy arrives at a time when the government is trying to demonstrate that it is reversing some of the more unpopular decisions of the previous regime. The removal of the e-levy, a tax on electronic transactions, was lauded as a win for ordinary Ghanaians. But with the new D-Levy, critics argue, the government has merely shifted the burden from the digital economy to the pump. As some have quipped, “E-levy out, Dumsor D-Levy in.” The logic of this substitution is hardly comforting. For many households and informal sector workers, the increase in transport fares triggered by the levy could be more punitive than the e-levy they celebrated seeing repealed. The narrative, then, becomes one of robbing Peter to pay Paul, all under the guise of energy stability.

The political economy implications are profound. First, the D-Levy reinforces a trend in Ghanaian fiscal policy where governments resort to indirect taxes and levies to fund structural inefficiencies, rather than addressing the root causes. These include overcapacity in power generation, misaligned procurement contracts, and opaque financial arrangements with IPPs. Second, it exposes the failure of successive governments to ringfence public funds or build institutional trust. Civil society actors have long complained about the lack of transparency in how energy levies are spent. Audits are sporadic, reports often withheld, and public oversight weak. In this environment, even a well-meaning levy appears predatory.

Finally, this situation raises philosophical questions about who bears the cost of public failure in Ghana. Is it fair to ask today’s citizens to fund yesterday’s poor contracts, bloated power deals, and policy inertia? And if so, where is the evidence that this new stream of revenue will be managed differently? The D-Levy is not just about energy – it is about the moral and institutional legitimacy of governance. It is about the citizen’s role not just as taxpayer, but as shareholder in a public enterprise that seems to suffer from chronic mismanagement. If the goal is to end dumsor, then fiscal tools must be matched with structural reforms, transparency, and a governance model that rewards efficiency rather than excuses it.

In the end, Ghana’s energy future cannot be levied into stability. It must be planned, trusted, and built. A one-cedi solution to a multi-billion dollar governance problem may win a few political points in the short term. But without systemic reform, it risks becoming just another levy in the dark.

Everyday Life, Ghana News, Ghana's Political Economy

Despite Just Built a Car Museum. Now What?

Dr. George Asiamah

Over the weekend, something rather cinematic happened in East Legon. The Ghanaian business mogul, Mr. Osei Kwame Despite, unveiled his latest addition to Ghana’s luxury landscape — an automobile museum. No, not another car showroom or a flashy garage. A whole museum. A place dedicated to celebrating the aesthetics, engineering, and history of automobiles. In Ghana.

The ceremony? Nothing short of regal. Chaired by Otumfuo Osei Tutu II himself — yes, the Asantehene, in all his royal resplendence. Add to the guest list a political potpourri: General Mosquito (Asiedu Nketia) looking surprisingly like someone who wouldn’t mind a vintage Mustang, Ibrahim Mahama in his usual art-meets-capitalist-cool vibe, and of course, the ever-enigmatic Cheddar (Freedom Jacob Caesar) whose mere presence screams, “I, too, own a Bugatti… or two.”

And yet, while social media bathed in the gloss of Benzes and Bentleys, a deeper conversation stirred underneath the surface.

Do We Really Need This?

Some Ghanaians are side-eyeing the entire affair. “An automobile museum? In this economy?” they ask. When roads in rural districts are more pothole than pavement, when ambulance services struggle for maintenance funding, and when public schools lack desks, a monument to luxury cars feels… somewhat tone-deaf.

Critics argue this is yet another example of Ghanaian elite priorities being wildly out of sync with national development needs. What symbolic value does a museum of foreign-engineered machines offer to a country still grappling with import dependency and a weak manufacturing base? Why not a STEM centre? A vocational training hub? A transport innovation lab?

But… It’s His Money

Then there’s the “but it’s his money” camp. And to be fair, they’re not wrong. Despite is a self-made man. His rise from cassette seller to business magnate is the stuff of Ghanaian legend. If he chooses to immortalise his love for cars in a museum, who are we to police his passion?

Private citizens have always influenced public culture — think of Kwame Nkrumah and his ideological monuments, or even Ibrahim Mahama’s Red Clay Studio. In that light, the Despite Automobile Museum can be seen not merely as vanity but as cultural contribution. A Ghanaian version of Jay Leno’s garage — aspirational, curated, uniquely personal.

Some even see it as a tourism opportunity. “If we can charge dollars to see old colonial forts, why not charge to see Rolls Royces?” one supporter quipped on X (formerly Twitter). And there’s merit to that. Heritage isn’t only in artefacts from 1821; it can also be in the artefacts of aspiration, the dreams of a people on wheels.

The Bigger Picture

This event — like much of what passes as national conversation in Ghana — isn’t really about cars. It’s about the distribution of value in society. What do we celebrate? What do we preserve? Who gets to decide what is “important”? In a country where “education is the key” but “money is the padlock,” the symbolism of a luxury car museum hits a nerve.

So, yes, Despite has every right to build whatever he wants. But Ghanaians also have every right to ask what such projects say about the state of our collective imagination.

Is the Automobile Museum a symbol of ambition? A shrine to consumerism? A call for modern preservation? Or just a rich man flexing with polished chrome?

The truth is probably somewhere in between.

Final Thoughts

In a country where history is often left to rot, where libraries are underfunded and museums are ghost towns, the very idea that a museum could spark national debate is a kind of progress. Even if it’s a museum of Ferraris and Phantoms.

Let’s just hope that while we preserve the past in polished engines, we also invest in the future — in classrooms, clinics, and communities that might one day produce the engineers who build our own dream cars.

For me, I’ll just sip my sobolo and wait for the day someone opens a Public Sanitation Museum. Complete with a VR experience of using a public toilet in Nima during flood season. Now that would be realism.

Ghana News, Ghana's Political Economy, Ghanaian Politics, Politics

Don’t Bet on the Cedi… It Has Mood Swings

Dr. George Asiamah

In Ghana, we celebrate the cedi’s short-term gains like a political victory parade. And in 2025, the band is playing again. The cedi has appreciated by over 24% against the US dollar in just a few months, dropping from over GH₵16 to around GH₵10.35. On the surface, this looks like redemption. A national comeback. Proof that the “economic management team” is finally awake.

But before we start naming our kids after the Finance Minister, and nominate the currency for the Nobel Prize in Economic Recovery, let’s take a hard, analytical look. Because history – and economic logic – tell us this performance is more likely to be a sugar rush than a sustainable meal.

Here’s why:

Supply of Dollars Will Begin to Dry Up

When a currency appreciates sharply in a short period, it disturbs the natural rhythm of the market. Those who hold dollars become hesitant. If you had dollars at GH₵16 and now it’s GH₵13, you’re not going to rush and exchange. You’ll wait – watching nervously, hoping the cedi will slide again so you can recover your margin. This behavior is natural, and it immediately begins to choke supply.

Remittance flows, a critical lifeline of Ghana’s forex market, also respond negatively. When the cedi is weak, sending money from abroad makes sense. For instance, if someone sending $100 previously got GH₵1,600 but now gets only GH₵1,300, they may wait or send less. Some may delay their projects, especially, if the appreciation of the currency does not correspond to reduction in price of goods. That is to say, whenever there is a sharp appreciation of a currency, inflows naturally slow, and another source of foreign currency begins to dry up.

Exporters, too, feel the pinch. When they convert their dollar earnings into cedis at a weaker rate, they earn more. But with this new wave of appreciation, their revenue in local currency shrinks. Rational business people do what rational business people do: they delay repatriation, under-invoice their exports, or keep funds abroad. Again, this starves the market of much-needed forex.

Demand for Dollars Will Start Creeping Up

While the supply side begins to strain, the demand side quietly builds up pressure. A stronger cedi means cheaper imports. For a heavily import-dependent country like Ghana, this spells trouble. As imports become more affordable, importers begin to order more – everything from electronics and machinery to fuel and food. This increased demand for dollars puts pressure back on the very currency that was just gaining strength.

Then comes the speculator class. These actors don’t buy into the hype – they’ve seen this before. Every sharp appreciation, they argue, is a temporary market sugar high. So while everyone else is praising the finance ministry, speculators begin to quietly accumulate dollars, betting on the inevitable reversal. And they are often right. Once the market begins to sense that the rally is over, the panic starts. Importers scramble for dollars. Parents looking to pay school fees abroad rush to buy. Businesses accelerate their purchases. The psychology shifts from confidence to fear, and in that moment, the cedi starts its descent.

The Invisible Hand the Gravity of Reality

This isn’t a new story. In 2015, the cedi surged in June, and by August, it had fallen just as sharply. In 2022, the same pattern repeated. There’s nothing uniquely 2025 about this. We are simply watching the same script play out, only with new actors and slightly different lines.

What’s often missing in these debates is the understanding that the market, like nature, abhors imbalance. Adam Smith called it the “invisible hand.” But let’s call it what it is – gravity. You can push the cedi up with policy tools, foreign inflows, gold-for-oil arrangements, or central bank interventions. But if the structural foundations aren’t strong – if your economy still imports more than it exports, still depends on remittances and commodity booms, still lacks industrial depth – then the appreciation is merely a balloon on a windy day.

Eventually, gravity wins.

So yes, you may clap for the cedi now. You may tweet, “Ato Forson is the man!” or argue over whether Bawumia could’ve done this. But remember: unless we fix the fundamentals, every sharp rise will end with a fall. That’s not cynicism – it’s economics. And unlike politics, economics doesn’t campaign. It simply responds.

Ghana News, Ghana's Political Economy, Ghanaian Politics, Politics

The Cedi is Smiling – But Should We…?

Dr. George Asiamah

Over the past month, Ghanaians have witnessed a sharp appreciation of the Cedi. All the major trading currencies, especially the US Dollars, are now being humbled by our currency – causing ripples of excitement across radio shows, social media, and street corners. In a country where exchange rate movements are treated with the same passion as Black Stars matches, the recent cedi performance is naturally triggering political bragging rights.

With the NDC back in office for less than six months, some supporters have already crowned Dr. Cassiel Ato Forson the miracle worker. “What Bawumia and Ofori-Atta couldn’t do in 8 years, Ato Forson has done in 6 months!” is the new anthem of partisan pride. But while we celebrate with dancing emojis and #CediIsBack hashtags, let’s take a breath – and a glance into our rearview mirror.

Because we’ve been here before.

Déjà vu, Anyone?

In President Mahama’s first term (2012–2016), Ghanaians saw similar episodes. At one point in 2014, the cedi lost nearly 40% of its value – then made a dramatic comeback after the Bank of Ghana injected dollars and tightened monetary policy. The then Finance Minister, Seth Terkper, even launched the now infamous “Home Grown Policies” programme – celebrated by some, criticized by others, and followed by an IMF bailout.

Each time the cedi gained strength, we thought the corner had been turned. Each time, the dollar eventually reminded us who was boss.

Even under the Akufo-Addo/Bawumia administration, the cedi had its brief “honeymoon” phases – especially after Eurobond inflows, syndicated cocoa loans, or IMF disbursements. The currency appreciated, optimism surged, but then came the reversals. These were not failures of specific finance ministers alone – they were reflections of a structural vulnerability that runs deep in the Ghanaian economy.

Political Football or Economic Fundamentals?

The temptation to turn every uptick into a partisan football match is strong. We know the rules: If the cedi falls, blame the Finance Minister. If it rises, crown him saviour. But currency strength isn’t the product of charisma or political proximity to President Mills’ ghost. It’s about fundamentals, market confidence, and often, external factors we can’t control.

No doubt, the new finance minister deserves credit for calming the markets. His tone has been measured, his statements less performative than his predecessors’, and his initial actions suggest an effort to restore fiscal discipline. That said, the real test will come in:

  • Managing debt repayments without mortgaging future revenues;
  • Growing domestic production to reduce reliance on imports;
  • Expanding the tax base without stifling growth;
  • And reforming institutions to prevent future macroeconomic shocks.

Can the NDC administration resist the political pressure to over-spend ahead of elections? Can it negotiate smartly with the IMF, without triggering public backlash or social unrest? Can it shield the poor while implementing structural reforms?

That’s where the actual battle lies – not in the month-to-month dance of the exchange rate.

What Are the Real Indicators?

Is inflation down sustainably? Are we exporting more than we import? Is the tax base broadening? Are we reducing our debt-servicing burden, or merely refinancing it? These are the indicators that will tell us whether this cedi appreciation is a trend or a teaser.

We’re also yet to see the full fiscal picture. The mid-year budget will be the real test of Ato Forson’s strategy. Will he cut politically costly subsidies? Will he resist the temptation of printing money to fund populist programmes? Will he negotiate with external creditors and investors in ways that secure both debt relief and investor confidence?

These are not six-month miracles. They are long-haul battles. And even a sharp appreciation, while psychologically soothing, can come with side effects — for example, harming export competitiveness or disincentivising diaspora remittances.

A Time for Humility, Not Hype

Ghana’s economic story is complex. The cedi’s behaviour is not an emotional teenager reacting to the Finance Minister’s tone of voice; it is a reflection of deep-rooted structural issues, geopolitical dynamics, and market sentiments.

If history teaches us anything, it is that premature jubilation often precedes disappointment. So, while we appreciate the short-term gains — and God knows we needed some good news — we must resist the urge to confuse symptom relief with full recovery.

Dr. Ato Forson may well prove to be one of Ghana’s most effective Finance Ministers. But let’s give him the space and time to actually do the work, not just benefit from a temporary upswing and social media applause.

As the saying goes, “When the rain drizzles in the dry season, don’t start planting your maize just yet.”

So to my fellow Ghanaians, breathe… but don’t break into azonto just yet. The economic battle isn’t won on the forex charts of May 2025. It’s fought — and won — in the policies, institutions, and choices that shape the months and years ahead.

Entertainment, Everyday Life, Ghana News

🎬🍴 Movie Review: Chef Smith – The Culinary Con🍴🎬

Dr. George Asiamah

If Chef Smith’s story were a movie, I’d be lamenting the wasted popcorn. The film follows the rise and fall of Chef Smith, a man whose fake Guinness World Record award unravel faster than a batch of poorly made pastry dough.

First off, let’s talk about the plot. Chef Smith, the self-proclaimed culinary genius, is riding high on a wave of self-fabricated accolades. From a fake Guinness World Record to a bogus “International Master Chef’s Club Excellence” award, this guy’s resume is as real as a three-cedi coin. During the TV interview on GHOne, the host, playing the role of the incredulous audience surrogate, asks, “If that one too  [the International Master Chef’s Club Excellence] is fake, what’s real about you then?” And what does our protagonist respond with? “I love cooking.” Seriously? That’s your big reveal?

The film tries to sell us on the idea that Chef Smith is a mastermind of deception, but his downfall is so swift and clumsy that it’s hard to buy into it. One minute he’s the hard-nosed con artist, and the next he’s crumbling under the weight of his own lies like a ‘bumbling fool.’ It’s as if the scriptwriter couldn’t decide whether to make us hate him or feel sorry for him, and in the end, they achieved neither.

In modern societies where trust is the gold standard, Chef Smith’s antics are a stark reminder that some people will go to great lengths to fabricate success. But let’s be real: if this were a movie, I’d be shaking my head at the screenwriter’s poor handling of the climax. The transition from cunning to clueless is so abrupt it feels like we missed a few crucial scenes.

To understand where Chef Smith’s story went wrong, let’s compare it to another infamous con artist: Dr. UN. Dr. UN managed to dupe some of Ghana’s most prominent figures, including the Speaker of Parliament and top musicians, into accepting fake awards. The brilliance of Dr. UN’s character lies in his unwavering commitment to his con. Even after being exposed, he continues to defend himself with a straight face, maintaining his fictional narrative. This consistency makes him a far more compelling and believable character.

Dr. UN’s story offers a masterclass in character development. He evolves, adapting to each revelation with a new layer of audacity. Unlike Chef Smith, who falls apart as soon as the truth is revealed, Dr. UN stands his ground, adding a delicious complexity to his character. His antics are so outlandish that they border on the absurd, yet his steadfastness in the face of exposure keeps audiences hooked.

Now, the burning question: should we expect a season two of Chef Smith’s tale? Honestly, I’m torn. On one hand, the sheer absurdity of Chef Smith’s escapades has a certain train-wreck appeal – can he sink any lower? On the other hand, do we really need more of this convoluted plot? If season two promises to delve deeper into the psyche of our not-so-masterful chef and maybe throw in some redemption arc (or more ridiculous failures), it might be worth a watch. But if it’s just more of the same slapdash storytelling, I’ll pass.

Or I think if the scriptwriters decide to pursue a sequel, they’ll need to overhaul the character development significantly. Perhaps they could take a leaf out of Dr. UN’s book and build a more consistent and resilient character, one who doesn’t just fold under pressure but instead weaves a web so intricate that the audience is left in awe, even if they detest him.

In conclusion, The Culinary Con is a wild ride, but not necessarily a good one. Chef Smith’s story is one part comedy, one part tragedy, and entirely a lesson in how not to pull off a scam. Here’s hoping if there is a season two, it comes with a better script and a protagonist who’s either convincingly cunning or hilariously inept – pick a lane, Chef!

🍽️💔🍿