Blog 2: The realities and practicalities of deaths in Ghana.

Welcome to the second blog of my five part series about death and burials. Be sure to read the first blog for a contextual background and what motivated me to write on this topic. I would imagine that most readers have experienced losing a loved one and therefore may not be so lost as I was when my mum died in November 2023. But for anyone like me who is also inexperienced with death or how things work in Ghana, this could be an informative blog. A huge disclaimer I would like to make is that my experience does not necessarily reflect the general conditions of Ghana. 

Open questions about how my mum died

My mum was a breast cancer survivor for over 20 years. She was the first in our family to get covid and we were terrified. But she actually had no symptoms and breezed through the process. She’s been a pillar of strength even with health challenges here and there. In August when I was about to relocate to France, she informed me about some discomfort in her body and after a series of tests, a tumour was found to be the cause of her discomfort. She went for what I thought would be a straightforward procedure but sadly passed away in the hospital 8 days later, reportedly from a blood clot. 

My mum had opted to have surgery in a new hospital in Kasoa (a town on the outskirts of the Greater Accra region) which immediately alarmed me. For example, it didn’t have a website. But my mum assured us that the lead doctor is a well-known specialist and to his credit was the one who found the tumour after several scans in other hospitals. With that said, when my family and I visited the hospital following mum’s passing, it looked like a new guest house rather than a hospital. Hardly anyone was there and there were no cars in the parking lot. We learned that 8 days after surgery, mum never had physiotherapy and actually never got on her feet. When the dreaded moment came and she couldn’t breathe, the nurses took their sweet time to come to her aid. The doctor informed my sister about my mum’s passing via a WhatsApp message. The same night, my mum was moved to a public morgue presumably because the hospital did not have a cold room. 

There is more…. The hospital informed us that we would receive a medical certificate stating the cause of death. When we received it, it was stated that she had passed way in a different hospital in Accra and signed by a doctor in that hospital. So, there is actually no record of my mum dying in the actual hospital where she died. The explanation we got from mum’s doctor is that he didn’t have the medical certificate forms and therefore asked a colleague to issue one. All this raises so many concerns. Is this facility truly fit to be conducting complex surgeries? My sister and I feel a duty to bring the facility to the attention of the hospital regulators though we are also told nothing will come out of it because the same doctors are the regulators. It’s disheartening to say the least. 

Obtaining a death certificate 

It’s a difficult thing to be dealing with grief and logistics/admin at the same time. There was a large medical bill to pay so we settled the hospital even though we could clearly see that my mum did not get the best post op care. We then had to go through the process of paperwork: medical certificate and death certificate. On the latter, the person in charge charged us an amount in cash for an “express” service where the certificate would be issued within one week. We got no receipt for the payment and received the certificate 2 months later after much follow up. This certificate is needed in order to obtain a burial permit. So, the red tape here was a learning curve. To be fair, these processes are important but have to be absolutely efficient if anything for a humanitarian consideration. 

When the deceased has no will 

It is only in movies that I hear about someone, often a rich old man, dying and leaving a will. This is typically followed by siblings or an ex-wife squabbling over the will and contesting it in court etc. I think most people don’t think about a will unless they are sick and elderly and/or know that they are in their final days. I made a will when I was 29 years old because I bought a house in South Africa and the bank that issued the mortgage insisted on life insurance and other related policies. So, this was forced on me and I am grateful to have had this experience. But my mum didn’t have one. The absence of a will places some burden on the next of kin. 

Firstly, we had to make decisions about how my mum was to be buried because at no time did she ever mention how she wants this to go. My sister and I preferred to use a funeral home in Accra which would take care of all the arrangements. The extended family supported our wishes but all this was vetoed by the “Abusuapanin” – the head of the family from my mum’s hometown. He was also a chief who maintained that my mum had to be buried in Asante, in accordance with Asante customs. More on this process is contained in Blog 3. The lesson learned for my sister and I who have decided to draft/redraft our wills is to be specific on how we wish to be buried and not to leave the burden of decision on our children. 

Secondly, we had to take control of her assets. Getting keys to her homes were straightforward and we had to take on the cost of maintaining her home, paying immediate bills, and taking on the payroll of her staff who were also grieving. We know the bank she uses but we have no idea where she has invested her money, if it is outside her normal bank. There is a complex legal process we will have to follow in order to have her assets transferred to us.  

Thirdly, there is the unknown. It’s really heartbreaking when a person unexpectedly dies. Do they have some liabilities, ongoing projects, etc? Not knowing how to truly respect their wishes is a difficult one. 

Peace and love