Once upon a time, in a republic not so far from the equator—where the heat humbles egos and even mosquitoes demand fan privileges—our beloved Ghana stood witness to divine economics and Levitical levies.

Behold the latest masterstroke from the land of elite mediocrity: the Energy Sector Levy Amendment Bill, announced with great fanfare and microscopic clarity on 3rd June, 2025 by none other than the ever-"forcing" Ato Forson, the man once hailed for vowing to arrest the dollar with handcuffs from Makola.

And lo and behold, he may have done it! The dollar has not negotiated bail and is no longer freelancing in forex bureaus. The cedi is now flexing its muscles, descending from the dizzying heights of 17 to a more respectable 10-to-the-dollar range.

The prayers have worked—or at least, the exchange rate now walks with a little more dignity.

And the translation, graciously provided by Majority Leader Mahama Ayariga—our parliamentary town crier—is this: “every Ghanaian must now part with GH¢1 per litre of fuel to end Dumsor.”

Yes, the same Dumsor that’s been rebranded more times than a church prophet’s vision board.

We’re not solving the crisis anymore—we’re crowdfunding it at the pump.

But don’t think of this as a tax. No, no. That would be unspiritual.

Think of it instead as a sacred seed, an anointed offering to the gods of the Akosombo Dam, a solemn tithe to ECG and GRIDCo for their inherited sins.

Buy 10 litres? That’s GHS10 toward national redemption. Hallelujah and pass the nozzle.

After decades of energy sector mismanagement, shady IPP contracts signed in candlelight, and billions already pumped (or siphoned) into blackouts, what’s the solution?

You guessed it—more money from the people who already live in the dark.

This isn’t policy; it’s a sanctified shakedown, a GH¢1 ritual donation to the gods of incompetence. And like all bad ideas in Parliament, it has sailed through faster than a Black Stars counterattack that ends in an offside.

“When the chief’s palace catches fire, it’s the poor man’s hut that gets inspected first.”

They told me fuel now costs GH¢11 per litre with a GH¢1 energy levy, but in 2022, I was buying at GH¢19 with a 20p Dumsor Levy and 1% e-levy on my momo tears.

By that measure, I’m now saving GH¢7 per litre. So if I buy 50 litres, that’s a GH¢350 salvation package—enough to buy rice, oil, tomatoes, onions, and a prayer rug. Maybe even fund a small shrine to stabilise electricity.

Meanwhile, the streets are divided. One side wails, “So when I buy 50 litres, I pay 50 cedis tax? This is no different from the e-levy crime syndicate!” The other side responds, “But rice was GH¢8, now it’s GH¢5. I gave the extra GH¢1 to the government. I don’t see the problem.”

The middle sits silently in traffic, doing fuel math:

“If I save GH¢350 on fuel, lose GH¢50 to levies, but eat 20% cheaper, does that make me a patriot or a survivor?”

We are told the cedi has been delivered from evil, descending from 17 to just above 10 cedis to the dollar.

Ato Forson, the high priest of fiscal deliverance, may have arrested the dollar—but like a Brofoyedru policeman, he seems to have forgotten to lock the cell.

The dollar now roams free, occasionally sneaking into prices.

“The dollar that is arrested today may be bailed out by inflation tomorrow.”

Meanwhile, Parliament has transformed into a trotro mate: “Ɛyɛ one cedi, no change! National development no dey give credit!”

The moral of this story?

“When the monkey is sent to bring down a coconut, he does not eat it alone. But in Ghana, even the squirrels at ECG are full.”

And so it came to pass that in a nation blessed with sunlight, waterfalls, gas, and dreams, we must pay GH¢1 at the fuel pump to see what is cooking in our own kitchen.

The gods are wise. But Parliament? Only the next levy will tell.