In the Republic of Uncommon Sense, where policies are theories and politics is theatre, a new genre of governance has emerged. It is not rooted in economics, nor politics, nor even common sense.
It is chopinomics—where national decisions are made not by reason, but by enthusiastic players in a political comedy skit with no script.

ACT I: The Foundation of Folly (2012–2013)

The curtain rises with Ghana borrowing $200 million at 12.5% interest from Credit Suisse, allegedly to build 5,000 "affordable" homes.
The project was handed to a Brazilian construction firm—Construtora OAS—who gladly collected the lion’s share of the funds and got to work… or at least to site.
In typical Ghanaian fashion, this meant we asked the Swiss to give us gold so a Brazilian company could give us cement.

What followed was the great disappearing trick. Out of 5,000 homes, only 1,506 were built—and even those were as habitable as Noah's Ark without a roof. No water, no electricity, no sewage, no shame. Just a cluster of cement dreams baking under the sun like abandoned meat pies.

And the designs? Oh, they were imported wholesale—possibly from Mars—without considering whether our citizens could live in them, or even locate the bathroom.
And that’s when the plot twisted like kenkey dough—ministers adjusting figures like tailors altering someone else’s trousers: plenty of pinning, no accountability.

ACT II: The Price of Affordability

The cost per house now? A cool $200,000.
In a country where the average civil servant earns enough to afford a bed—without the room—it’s as if the phrase "affordable housing" took a trip to the spa and came back as "executive mansions for ghosts".
Meanwhile, the loan is accumulating interest faster than MPs approve ex gratia.

The Swiss bankers, sipping hot chocolate in Geneva, must be wondering what “Saglemi” means.
(Hint: It’s Ga-Adangbe for “Oh no, not again!”)

ACT III: Change of Government, Same Soap Opera

A new government arrives in 2017, looks at the mess and says, “Ei! Who did this?” Then proceeds to arrest two former ministers, one bureaucrat, and a goat tied to a mango tree.

Fast forward to 2025, the same party that originally signed the deal returns to power, drops all charges, and does the political equivalent of shrugging:
“Boys just dey play.”

But life, like an unpaid loan, comes back with interest.

ACT IV: The Paris Peace Accord (a.k.a. Arbitration)

Our Brazilian builders, not satisfied with what they've already pocketed, march gallantly to arbitration in Paris. They want $10 million more for “lost profits”—even though the profits were lost on arrival.
By the time legal fees are done, Ghana could end up owing $180 million—almost the same amount we paid them in the first place.

Now the government must go to court in Paris to argue that the same contract it refused to prosecute at home… was illegal after all.

“My Lord, the contract was illegal!”
“But didn’t you just drop charges against your own people for signing it?”
“Ah, but that was politics. This one is court.”

VERDICT: From Houses to Excuses

What do we call a country where houses vanish, ministers vanish, prosecutions vanish, and logic was never invited to the party?

We call it The Republic of Uncommon Sense, Population: 33 million confused citizens.

While you and I are busy checking ECG meters and MTN airtime balances, chopinomic experts are redrawing the laws of fiscal physics—where 5,000 equals 1,506, and $200 million equals zero homes and several legacy court cases.

This, dear reader, is governance by jollof: spicy, scattered, and no one is sure who added the seasoning.

As the wise say:
“Silence speaks louder than words.”
Meaning? The suffering is loud, but those responsible say nothing—because their silence says it all.

Until citizens form policy watchdogs, until civil society becomes more than just civil silence, Ghana will continue to host these policy masquerades—where every new administration simply changes masks and dances to the same old tune.