When Secrets Outlive Us: The Curious Case of Late John Kumah’s Wife and the Hidden Millions
A few years ago, I bumped into an old friend at a roadside waakye joint — we hadn’t spoken in years, but within ten minutes, he told me about how his late uncle’s “small money” turned out to be a fortune hidden in multiple accounts no one knew existed. It was messy. Siblings turned into sworn enemies overnight. Funny enough, that same story popped back in my head when I read about the late John Kumah’s wife now neck-deep in a legal tussle over secret accounts her husband supposedly used for government contracts.
I mean, think about it — how many secrets do people bury with them? We all like to think we know our partners inside out (I can practically hear my friends saying, “I know my man; he can’t hide anything from me!”), but do we, really? I’m not so sure anymore.
From what’s trickled out so far, these accounts apparently held proceeds from contracts Kumah secured when he was alive — money that, well, never made it into any open family budget, if you get my drift. Now, his widow is fighting tooth and nail to get control of it, but of course, it’s never that simple. There’s the state sniffing around, extended family suddenly reappearing from thin air, and lawyers ready to drain the last pesewa if it means extra billable hours.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I felt when I first heard about this. On one hand, if the money was earned through legit contracts, shouldn’t the family benefit? On the other hand, if there was something shady — backdoor deals, kickbacks, the usual — who really owns that money? The people? The government? Or the grieving family? I guess that’s the sticky part — when your personal life crosses paths with public service, even your bank balance becomes everyone’s business.
I remember scrolling through Facebook at 2 am (bad habit, I know) and seeing people arguing under a post about this story. One comment hit me: “In this country, even the dead can’t rest because the living won’t stop fighting over the leftovers.” Harsh. But maybe true?
In my opinion, this whole mess just exposes how fragile trust can be, even in marriage. I may be wrong, but secrets have a funny way of aging poorly. Today it’s just “don’t tell anyone about this account” — tomorrow it’s a full-blown courtroom drama with your name trending on X (formerly Twitter).
I guess the big question is — would you want your secrets to haunt your loved ones after you’re gone? Or maybe the real question is — how well do we really know the people we share our beds and dreams with?
Food for thought. Maybe next time you’re sipping that overpriced latte or chewing on your waakye, you’ll wonder — what secrets are sitting quietly in the people you trust the most? And what would they do with them when you’re no longer around to explain?