Funerals and the hidden economy: How Akan pride fuels commerce – Kofi Ayisi Aboagye writes

On a humid Wednesday afternoon in Kumasi, the city seems to move in rhythm with the past. Traffic slows, banks and schools prepare to close, and entire markets anticipate a pause.

The cause is not politics, nor football, nor a festival. It was the funeral of a queen mother, the late Asantehemaa, Nana Konadu Yiadom III, and the entire kingdom bent around the solemn occasion.

For outsiders, a funeral is a time of sorrow, of farewells and mourning. But in Ghana, and particularly among the Akan people, funerals are also economic engines. They are moments when culture, pride, and commerce intersect, and when thousands of livelihoods are briefly but powerfully activated.

The Cost of Goodbye

The economics of funerals in Ghana are no longer just anecdote. A 2020 study by John Kwame Adu Jack, Emmanuel K. S. Amoah & Eric Hope (titled Estimating the Financial Costs of Funeral Celebrations in Ghana) quantified the financial weight of funerals across Greater Accra, Central, and Ashanti regions. It found that costs extend beyond the bereaved family. Attendees, too, spend on transport, food, lodging, and clothing. The study concluded that funerals, while deeply cultural, are also financially burdensome social obligations that ripple through entire communities.

A second study, The Economics of Death and Funeral Celebration in a Ghanaian Akan Community (by George J.S. Dei in 2021), highlighted another dimension: redistribution. In Ayirebi, a small town near Akyem Oda, researchers observed that while families spent lavishly, they also received help – contributions from relatives, remittances from the diaspora, and support from churches or lineage groups. Tailors, caterers, musicians, coffin makers, and artisans benefited directly. Prestige, it turned out, was measured not only in the size of the gathering but in the money that circulated.

A recent BBC documentary, Flamboyant Funerals (January 2025), underscored Ghana’s global reputation for staging some of the most elaborate funerals in the world. Journalist Hannah Ajala journeyed to Kumasi, the country’s cultural capital, capturing the vibrant colours, dancing, talking drums, and royal traditions that make these ceremonies as grand – and often more costly – than weddings. Even a “standard” funeral carries a heavy price tag, as a 2017 study by the University of Ghana’s Centre for Social Policy estimated that households spend an average of GHS 20,000 – 50,000 on a “standard” funeral, with higher-end ceremonies running well above that. Among the Asante middle class, however, that figure rises sharply, often reaching GHS 80,000 to GHS 200,000 once catering, fabrics, décor, transport, and other expenses are factored in.

Pride and Pressure

Why do families spend so much? – Among the Akan, funerals are far more than ceremonies of farewell – they are statements of pride and identity. When set against Ghana’s average monthly income (range – GHS4,500 – GHS10,000), spending GHS 50,000 or more can appear staggering. Yet for many families, such costs are non-negotiable. Funerals are moments of honour, recognition, and ancestral continuity. They mark lineage, preserve respect, and safeguard the reputation of the living.

This deep sense of duty creates both opportunity and pressure. Entire industries thrive on the demand, but families often borrow, sell assets, or drain savings to meet expectations. Still, the conviction remains: the funeral must befit the status of the departed.

Anatomy of a Funeral Economy

An Asante funeral is never just a farewell; it is an economy that breathes through ritual. Fabrics worth tens of thousands of cedis flood the markets, black, red, and bold kente, stitched late into the night by tailors and seamstresses racing against time. Courtyards and palace grounds transform under vast canopies, lights, and sound systems, as decorators, carpenters, and engineers turn grief into pageantry. Enormous pots bubble with food, feeding hundreds, even thousands – each meal linking farmers, wholesalers, caterers, transporters, and servers in a humming chain of work. Printers, photographers, videographers, and, in recent times, bloggers, memorialize the moment, while announcers and drummers carry the story through words and rhythm.

Outside, vehicles line the streets, drivers and rental companies are busy, fuel stations are thriving, and car parks are filled to the brim. Mortuary attendants prepare the departed with quiet diligence, while coffin makers, pastors, choirs, and drummers add their final touch. Meanwhile, streams of money flow through the financial system – family contributions (nsawa), diaspora remittances, church collections, and loans – moving through banks, savings groups, and mobile money channels, each transaction leaving a trace of fees and commission as livelihood – a proof that grief, too, has an economy.

When seen in motion, the funeral becomes a grand marketplace of its own: every canopy raised, every cloth cut, every plate served, every drum struck sustains jobs, fuels commerce, and binds a community together in pride and heritage.

The Asantehemaa Funeral: A City on Pause

The Asantehemaa, Queen Mother of the Ashanti Kingdom, is revered as the spiritual mother of Asanteman. She guides the Asantehene, safeguards traditions, and embodies wisdom, dignity, and unity. In September 2025, the funeral of the late Asantehemaa set the highest standard of an Asante funeral event, bringing Kumasi to a standstill. Banks, schools, and markets closed, while the Manhyia Palace declared a “funeral ban” to uphold solemnity. Tens of thousands of mourners, dignitaries, and members of the diaspora filled the city in a profound display of reverence and cultural pride.

Behind the scenes, the scale of employment was remarkable. Thousands found work as security officers keeping order, caterers stirring giant pots, decorators transforming spaces, traffic controllers guiding the flow, and sound engineers perfecting the atmosphere. Food vendors lined the streets, their stalls glowing late into the night. Hotels and guesthouses brimmed with mourners and dignitaries, while transport operators – buses, rental cars, and airlines – saw business surge, with local flights selling out days in advance. Across the city, mobile money agents and remittance services buzzed with transactions, capturing the steady flow of contributions from families and the diaspora.

Of course, there were losses too. Shops and markets sacrificed days of trading. But the compensation came through a surge in demand for food, cloth, media, and transport. Kumasi became an open-air theatre where grief met commerce.

The Human Faces Behind the Numbers

The funeral economy is not abstract. It is lived daily by ordinary people.
At dawn in Manhyia, cloth merchants display stacks of black, red, and patterned kente. Tailors hum away on sewing machines, working late into the night. Caterers prepare silos of rice (the famous funeral Jollof), while servers polish utensils. Event planners climb ladders to hang banners, engineers test microphones, and drummers rehearse royal rhythms.

Meanwhile, finance flows quietly. Churches collect envelopes, families contribute “nsawa”, diaspora relatives send remittances, and loans are quietly arranged. Mobile money agents cash out, banks process transactions.
Every hand is part of a value chain. Without seamstresses, no cloth. Without mortuary staff, no dignified preservation. Without photographers, no memory is preserved. Without drivers, no mourners arrive.

Untapped Opportunities

The “funeral economy” in Ghana reflects both opportunity and risk. On the one hand, it provides jobs and keeps money circulating locally. On the other, it pressures families into unsustainable spending. Yet, properly harnessed, this sector could support a broader creative economy agenda. Imagine funeral event companies formalized with financing from banks, insurance products tailored to funeral planning, or even documentary storytelling of Akan heritage streamed on Netflix or YouTube.

Asante traditions, in particular, elevate funerals into almost regal productions. Chiefs and other high-ranking personalities attend, drums resound, and symbols of pride and continuity abound. This heritage, if packaged thoughtfully, could further project Ghanaian identity internationally while formalizing an economy that is currently scattered, informal, and under-researched.

Lessons from a Productive Culture Economy

The Asantehemaa’s funeral was more than a farewell; it showed how tradition can drive business, how grief creates markets, and how pride keeps many people employed.

An Asante funeral is like a small economy at work. Families spend a lot, but the money spreads across clothing, food, transport, hotels, finance, and the creative industry. The lesson is simple: with the right systems, funerals can support growth as well as honour the dead.

The aim is not to take away meaning but to see the chances they bring. Funeral insurance and savings plans could help families cope, event planning could be better organised to create jobs, and artists and filmmakers could share Akan culture with the world.

As the Akan say, “Obi nkyere abofra Nyame” – to it, no one teaches a child who God is. Funerals will always matter. The challenge now is to see them not only as tradition, but also as opportunity.

About the Author
Kofi is a Chartered Accountant and Internal Auditor with over 12 years of experience in finance, risk management, and corporate advisory. As Founder of NKAKA & Partners, he supports SMEs to build stronger financial systems, improve governance, and unlock growth opportunities. For further engagements, contact the writer on kofiaboagyeghana@gmail.com.