The passing of Daddy Lumba should have been one of those rare national moments when grief, pride, culture and commerce meet in harmony. A befitting farewell to an incredibly gifted musician. A cultural spectacle. A pilgrimage to Kumasi. A masterclass in how we honour legends.

Instead, we gave Lumba something else.

What could have been a phenomenal event, a curated tourist experience and a historic funeral worthy of a man many consider second only to Otumfuo in Ashanti popularity, quietly collapsed into a poorly organised and sparsely attended affair. Not because the nation did not care, but because needless family feuds chose to take centre stage.

In Ghana, funerals are not just rites of passage. They are culture, economy and industry combined. Daddy Lumba’s funeral could have turned Kumasi into a weekend capital of remembrance. Hotels fully booked. Restaurants stretched. Chopbars in overdrive. Drinking bars practising sympathy with cold bottles and loud highlife.

Instead, one imagines the confusion. Chopbars staring at empty benches and shaking heads. Hotels folding unused bedsheets in disappointment. Drinking bars counting unsold crates like abandoned mourners. Even kebab sellers must be wondering what offence they committed in a previous life.

Ironically, the only clear winners were social media enterprises and internet service providers. While Kumasi waited for mourners who never arrived, timelines were congested with speculation, leaks, counter-leaks and recycled family grievances.

Data bundles were exhausted. Engagement soared. Gossip travelled faster than funeral arrangements. If clicks could bury the dead, Lumba would have been interred ten times over.

Family feuds over funerals are among our most needless traditions. The dead cannot referee disputes. They cannot reward stubbornness. Funerals are not stages for unresolved grievances, ego battles or inheritance rehearsals. They are moments of closure and gratitude, especially when the deceased belongs not just to a family, but to a people.

Daddy Lumba did not sing for households alone. He sang for heartbreaks, weddings, betrayals, victories and quiet personal wars across generations. His farewell deserved the same coordination and grandeur his music commanded effortlessly.

This was a missed opportunity for Kumasi, for Ashanti cultural tourism and for Ghana. But more painfully, it was a reminder that when private quarrels overpower public sense, even legends suffer undignified endings.

Lumba deserved better. And so did we.