Ghana has lost not just a musician, but a generational spirit. The man born Charles Kwadwo Fosu, known as Daddy Lumba, died peacefully on Saturday, July 26, 2025. He was 60. His death, confirmed by the family, plunged the country into mourning, with tributes pouring in.

The BBC ran the headline, “Greatest in 100 Years,” capturing in just four words what generations of Ghanaians have felt in their hearts: that Daddy Lumba was not merely a musician, but a once-in-a-century phenomenon, a lyrical prophet, a musical chameleon, a spiritual father of Ghanaian highlife, and a voice that cradled the nation’s joy and pain.

With over 30 albums and about 200 songs, it was widely said, “Daddy Lumba has a song for every Ghanaian”. Not even one was a bad song. For many Ghanaians, he was a cultural icon, and his music touched countless lives.

Born on September 29, 1964, in Nsuta, Ashanti Region, Daddy Lumba emerged from humble beginnings to become one of Ghana’s most iconic musicians.

In the 1980s, life took him to Germany, where his music career took root. His career, spanning over three decades, began with the release of “Yereye Aka Akwantuo Mu” alongside fellow musician Nana Acheampong under the moniker Lumba Brothers, an album that introduced his versatile voice and knack for storytelling. That album changed the landscape of modern highlife music and marked the birth of his solo career that would go on to redefine Ghanaian music.

Daddy Lumba’s music evolved with the times, blending traditional highlife with contemporary rhythms, earning him accolades and a revered place in the hearts of both young and old. His ability to address universal issues such as love, betrayal, mortality, resilience, and life in a broader sense made him a cultural touchstone, as evidenced by the outpouring of tributes following his passing.

“Makra Mo”: Beyond A Song

Daddy Lumba released countless and timeless hits that engraved into Ghanaian consciousness, songs that played at weddings, parties, funerals, lovers’ hideaways, and political rallies alike. Yet among the many he gifted the world, the “Makra Mo” song stands apart.

In it, Lumba sings “You’ve heard me speak today, let my song bring you joy…” It is eerie now, prophetic, even how “Makra Mo” encapsulated his preparedness for his departure. The song was not just a beautiful melody but a poetic exit letter, a heart-to-heart between a man and his people.

He knew, perhaps, that there would be a day when he wouldn’t be here to sing anymore. And so, he recorded his goodbye ahead of time, set to melody, dressed in chords.

“Maybe You’ll Never See Me Again”

In the wake of his passing, Ghanaians have responded with an outpouring of grief that mirrors the depth of their love for Lumba. Ghana’s President John Dramani Mahama wrote: “Lumba’s unmatched musical genius provided the soundtrack to our lives, carrying us through various phases of life. The beats to his memorable songs may have died down, but his enduring legacy will echo through the ages.”

For Former President Nana Addo Dankwa Akufo-Addo, Daddy Lumba was “a pantheon among musical greats of all time and had a special connection with his fans and the entire nation.” Lumba’s song for Nana Addo’s presidential bid is regarded as one of the most popular political songs ever produced in Ghana. “His hit-making songs will remain lasting contributions to my presidential journey and will forever be etched in the annals of the political campaign of the New Patriotic Party,” Nana Addo posted on Facebook, referring to the “Nana Y3 Winner” song.

A Legend At African Legends Night

Daddy Lumba’s contributions to African music earned him a revered status, making the African Legends Night celebrations significant milestones in honouring his legacy during his lifetime, a rarity for artistes in any industry. African Legends Night, an event organized by Global Media Alliance to honour iconic African musicians, chose Daddy Lumba as a focal point, recognizing his profound impact on Ghanaian and African music.

The decision to celebrate him twice in a decade underscores his unmatched influence and the rarity of an artist maintaining such relevance over time. Celebrating Daddy Lumba while he was still active is a departure from the posthumous recognition many African artistes receive. The two separate concerts highlighted a growing awareness in African entertainment to honour icons in real-time, allowing them to witness their impact.

Legacy Lyrics

Much has been said about Daddy Lumba’s romantic themes, and rightly so. His songs chronicled love in all its forms: its sweetness, its heartbreak, its temptation, its endurance. But to reduce him to a love singer is to miss his spiritual, philosophical, and social dimensions. In Makra Mo, he sings with clarity, “Death belongs to the Creator. We humans have no power.” This was not just a resignation, but a worldview.

Daddy Lumba’s works took on a more introspective tone, often reflecting on mortality, family, faith, and legacy. He began to name persons in his lyrics, almost as if giving them an eternal space in his musical afterlife. He mourned friends who passed before him: “Kwame wuo nti, ebia na moanhu no biom da…” (“Because of Kwame’s death, maybe you’ll never see him again…”). Now, fans echo those same words for Lumba himself.

In Makra Mo, he leaves us with a charge, “Don’t cry for me. Don’t cry for yourselves or your children. Let my suffering not be in vain. Do not change after I’m gone.” It is both a request and a command, a call to celebrate his life rather than drown in sorrow.

A National Farewell

Radio and TV stations across the country are playing Lumba’s music on a loop. Fans have gathered outside his home, holding vigils and singing his songs late into the night.

And indeed, what he left us is immeasurable, a legacy of sound, soul, and sincerity. Ghana has lost a son, Africa has lost a legend, and the world has lost a voice that could melt even the hardest of hearts.

But the music remains. The memories remain. The melodies will echo in our trotros, our weddings, our celebrations, our heartbreaks, forever.

By: Ekow Quandzie, PR Lead for African Legends Night

This is a public tertiary institution. The students are adult citizens with the right to choose their cultural expression, in sartorial matters. Only the law can impose mandatory constraints.

What business does anyone have with someone who decides to wear an anklet? Who does that threaten? These are adult citizens.

When one person says to another that his or her hair is unkempt, what exactly is the objective criteria at play? A throwback to colonialist condescension around indigenous African hairstyles?

You say in this hot country, people cannot wear shorts? Why exactly? Somehow, they can wear shorts in primary and secondary schools? But as soon as they get to university, that becomes problematic. Why?

Do we realise that by banning shorts, you also ban the wearing of traditional cloth?

We could go on. Beyond the impositions of the law, anything else must be the outcome of negotiations, not imposition.

Thankfully, in its latest memo, the university seems to acknowledge errors in both reasoning and execution.

People arguing that a university is a place to teach adult citizens how to dress professionally amuse me. Really?

The university should also be a place to model proper behaviours and values. Those who wield authority should lead the way in exemplifying conduct that lives and breathes the ethos of democratic compromise, negotiations, and dialogue.

Universities should not become training grounds for Gestapos.

Thanks for getting me to write something on the matter. I will share it with some other friends.

myjoyonline.com

In West Africa, the humble tomato is more than just a kitchen staple—it’s a symbol of economic opportunity and vulnerability. So when Burkina Faso recently unveiled two state-of-the-art tomato processing factories in Bobo-Dioulasso and Yako with a third one under construction, it wasn’t just a win for their agricultural sector; it sent a clear message to neighbours like Ghana: the time for relying on others is over.

For years, Ghana has leaned heavily on Burkina Faso for fresh tomato imports, especially during the dry season. Our markets, from Bolgatanga to Accra, are flooded with tomatoes that travel hundreds of kilometers across the border, supplying urban demand that local farmers can’t meet consistently. This reliance, while convenient, masks a much deeper problem: our inability to fix the cracks in Ghana’s tomato value chain.

Now, with Burkina Faso prioritising domestic processing of its tomato harvest, the game is changing. Each of the factories in operation can process five tonnes of tomato paste per hour. That means more tomatoes will stay in Burkina Faso—processed, preserved and packaged—not loaded onto trucks bound for Ghana. And we will feel it.
Ghana is already one of the top importers of tomato paste in West Africa, spending millions of dollars annually on products primarily from Italy and China. Ironically, even the few locally processed tomato products are often made from imported tomato concentrates, simply reconstituted into tomato mix.

Ghana once had functioning tomato factories—in Pwalugu, Wenchi, and Nsawam. Today, most of them are dormant. Why? Inconsistent supply, lack of investment, poor infrastructure, and a fragmented approach to agribusiness development. Meanwhile, countries like Burkina Faso are building forward investing in farmer cooperatives, irrigation and processing plants that add value locally.

So, what happens next?

If Ghana doesn’t act fast, we risk being priced out of even the fresh tomato trade. Burkina Faso could soon sell us not just tomatoes, but tomato paste—and even that, we’ll struggle to produce ourselves. Our smallholder farmers will continue to suffer from postharvest losses, our food import bill will balloon, and our local industries will remain in limbo.

This doesn’t have to be our fate.

Ghana needs to treat this as a turning point. We must:

• Reinvest in sustainable tomato processing infrastructure and link them directly to farmer cooperatives.
• Scale up innovative preservation technologies like solar drying at the community level.
• Support local farmers with irrigation, inputs and guaranteed markets.
• Encourage public-private partnerships to de-risk agribusiness investments.

Burkina Faso has done its part—now it’s our turn. The tomato trade isn’t about agriculture; it’s about sovereignty, jobs and food security. We cannot afford to keep importing what we can grow, process and package ourselves.
Let’s not wait until the tomatoes stop coming.

Dr Mavis Owureku-Asare, the writer is a food scientist, CEO of Impact Food Hub and advocate for agribusiness transformation in West Africa.
Email: [email protected]