When the news broke on 26th July 2025 that Charles Kwadwo Fosu – Ghana’s beloved Daddy Lumba – had taken his final bow at the Bank Hospital, a deep silence swept across the nation. We didn’t just lost a musician; it was a voice that comforted us in heartbreak, lifted us in celebration, teased us with humour, and taught us the uncertain rhythm of love.
His passing felt like a door closing on an era we were not ready to leave behind.
But as the tributes flooded in, another narrative quietly unfolded – tender, tangled, and undoubtedly human.
Who was truly Daddy Lumba’s wife?
And why must the matters of the heart be settled in a courtroom, long after the heart itself has stopped beating?
Two women stood at the centre of this emotional storm:
Akosua Serwaa Fosuh, long believed to have shared a customary marriage with him and mother to some of his Germany-based children;
and Priscilla “Odo Broni” Ofori, the woman who lived by his side in Accra, and whom the Fosu family openly embraced as Lumba’s wife.
What initially whispered through private conversations soon erupted into a national debate. In Ghana, when a great tree falls, the whole forest listens – and mourns. We all became part of the story, watching, arguing, grieving, and praying for peace.
Before the court could even sit, the media had already turned into a courtroom of its own.
Ordinary citizens suddenly became lawyers and judges, pronouncing verdicts from the depths of their emotions. And in the confusion, even well-meaning legal minds, while trying to explain the issues, only blurred the lines further.
Almost overnight, Ghana became a nation of “pocket lawyers,” confidently interpreting laws many had never read, turning a family’s pain into public theatre.
Then came 28th November 2025.
The Kumasi High Court finally delivered its ruling – a judgment as complex as the man whose life was under examination. The court held that both women are spouses under customary law, dismissing the claim that Akosua Serwaa alone held that title.
It was a decision rooted not in controversy, but in the complex realities of Ghanaian family systems, where love, duty, and tradition rarely travel in straight lines.
Lumba leaves behind a large and diverse family, including an estimated eleven children. In the middle of the legal whirlwind, these children begged for just one thing – space to mourn their father without becoming part of the spectacle.
His extended family, too, found itself walking a difficult tightrope: preserving tradition, defending truth, and managing the storm of public scrutiny, all while battling their own private grief.
And so the question remains, resonating long after the judge’s gavel fell:
Why do we fight over those who are gone? Is it simply that when love ends abruptly, the living are left scrambling to define what the departed meant to them?
Perhaps the truth lies somewhere in the middle.
Daddy Lumba was not just a star – he was a father, a partner, a cultural monument, and a man whose personal life pulsed with the same fire that ran through his music.
Just hours after the court’s judgment, whispers began to spread – that one of the widows had already filed an appeal. And so, the legal battle continues, stretching a story that has already carried more pain than peace.
This morning, in a conversation with a colleague who had also been drawn into the national debate, a question lingered in the air: What exactly are the widows fighting for?
Would this battle be the same if Daddy Lumba had been poor, unknown, and unseen?
These questions are not meant to judge, but to reflect the uncomfortable truth that often surrounds the passing of great men: when love, grief, and legacy collide, even death does not always bring rest.
As Ghana prepares to bid him a final farewell worthy of his greatness, one thing is certain: the noise will fade, the disputes will settle, but his voice – passionate, timeless, unforgettable – will continue to echo across generations.
In the end, maybe that is the legacy he leaves behind.
Not the controversy, not the court case, but the melodies that live long after the man is gone.
As I pause and reflect, I call upon our justice system, our traditional authorities, the family heads of the late Daddy Lumba, and the good people of Ghana to come together in unity. Let us collectively pursue a peaceful, fair, and amicable resolution to this matter, guided by wisdom, compassion, and respect for the legacy at the heart of it all.
Writer: Inspector Sattey Yaw Stephen – a dedicated student leader and public servant, committed to peace, security, and national student advocacy. Facebook- Sattey Yaw Stephen, TikTok- Traditional Custodian. 0242308122
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