There was a season in Ghana when a single whisper from the Finance Ministry could sway Parliament, steady or stumble the cedi, or send boardrooms scrambling.

For those of us who were keen observers, Mr. Ken Ofori-Atta sat at the heart of that moment. He was a policy czar, loan negotiator, and public face of an era that promised transformation and delivered upheaval.

Among other things, Mr. Ofori-Atta presided over the disbursement of billions of cedis to fund various projects, including the Free Senior High School programme, though he openly opposed the mode of funding, the one district, one factory (1D1F), one village, one dam and the one constituency, one million policies.

Together with the Bank of Ghana and Securities and Exchange Commission, the investment banker funded the sweeping financial sector clean-up exercise that drained billions from state coffers, shuttered nine banks and hundreds of firms in what promised stability but ended up costing jobs and wiping out the savings, sweats and businesses of ordinary Ghanaians.

My own sweat, the Heritage Bank, which was liquid, solvent, and well-governed by the Bank of Ghana’s own assessment, was shut down after the Finance Ministry and Bank of Ghana wrote me off as “not fit and proper.” Never mind that, days before the bank’s licence was revoked, the Bank of Ghana and the Ministry of Finance advised us to merge with other banks, like what happened to other indigenous banks.

From the apex to ICE

It is a fact that at his peak, Mr. Ofori-Atta was arguably the most powerful and influential figure in Ghana’s economic architecture, second only to the President.

His grip on fiscal policy was unmatched; he negotiated billion-dollar loans, drove sweeping reforms, and shaped decisions that touched every Ghanaian household.

So entrenched was his influence that even when internal dissent within his own party reached fever pitch — when MPs openly demanded his removal — the President stood firm, insisting Ken was “the right man for the job.”

And so, for years, he weathered public protests, parliamentary censure motions, and political storms, remaining untouchable. It was only in the twilight of the administration, with the presidency itself nearing its end, that Ken was finally shown the exit, in what would later be a dramatic fall for a man once considered indispensable.

Though out of office from January 2025, Ken was not entirely out of power. He travelled to the United States of America, where his lawyers said he needed to be for medical reasons. Having failed to get him back to Ghana, the Office of the Special Prosecutor (OSP) had declared Ofori Atta a fugitive in February 2025, citing multiple investigations, from the SML revenue assurance contracts to procurement and payments in high-visibility projects.

By late 2025, 78 corruption-related counts had been filed in absentia, and an extradition effort was initiated. Many people, including the Attorney General and Minister of Justice, Dr Dominic Ayine, said the fight to bring Ken home was difficult, given the top-notch lawyers fighting for him in the U.S.

But on January 6, 2026, things took a dramatic turn in a way that reminds us that all shall pass. On that faithful day, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officers detained Ken at the Caroline Detention Facility in Virginia over immigration status issues, according to his lawyers.

Multiple Ghanaian outlets reported the targeted nature of the arrest; investigative journalist Manasseh Azure located the operation near Washington’s Westlight apartments. Meanwhile, Ghana’s Attorney General disclosed that the U.S. State Department had revoked Ofori Atta’s visa months earlier and set a deadline for him to leave.

The bigger lesson for public servants

For me, this is not a morality play about one man. It is a cautionary parable about power: Power is rented, not owned. Mandates sit on public patience, time and institutional checks. Humility stretches the lifespan of trust.

Ghana will move on. Governments rotate; markets adjust; headlines fade. What remains is the record of how power was used when it mattered.

The ICE detention is a sharp reminder that positions are temporary, that life humbles us all, and that the only lasting legacy is how we treated the country — its institutions, its businesses, and its people — when the pen was in our hand.

As a Muslim, I always take refuge in the Qur’an.

Al-Kitab reminds us that power is transient, but faith and compassion endure. “All sovereignty belongs to Allah,” it teaches, and worldly authority is only a trust, never a possession.

Titles, wealth, and influence vanish like shadows at sunset, yet love for humanity and reverence for the Creator remain eternal.

Those who lead must do so with humility, mindful that the throne they occupy today may be dust tomorrow, but the deeds they leave behind will echo forever.

Alhaji Seidu Agongo is a businessman and philanthropist