The Lumba Lesson: Why Every Man Must Put His Affairs in Order

The unseemly public disputes emerging following the passing of the highlife legend, Daddy Lumba, point towards a singular, preventable cause: it is highly probable that he either died without a valid Will, or that the Will he left was neither exhaustive nor sufficiently precise. 

To any objective observer, the current turmoil is not a heartfelt struggle over legacy, but a transparent scramble to lay claim to his properties and the considerable revenues associated with his funeral arrangements.

Consider the facts. While he was alive, the artist lived openly with a woman who is said not not to be his legally wedded wife and fathered five children with her—a situation conducted without secrecy. Yet, now that he has passed, we are presented with the spectacle of profound confusion over who is entitled to what role and probably what asset in the life he constructed. This is an institutional failure of personal administration.

Several questions arise that a robust Will would have rendered irrelevant. How has his Germany-based wife been able to reside in Ghana for an extended period following his death when the online chatters said it was not possible for her to relocate to join Lumba in Ghana while he was alive?

 Furthermore, if his polyamorous lifestyle was so objectionable, why was the option of divorce under German law—which permits dissolution on grounds of adultery—not pursued during his lifetime? The answers suggest a tacit acceptance of the situation while he was alive, which has now devolved into a posthumous power struggle.

The lesson for every man, particularly those with complex family structures involving multiple partners or children from different relationships, is unambiguous: you must put your house in order. This is not a matter of morbidity, but of responsibility. 

I have personally compelled my inner circle to draft Wills and to revisit these documents annually, ensuring they accurately reflect the evolving nature of our modern, often polygamous, lifestyles. I have volunteered as a lawyer to help all my friends with the drafting of their WILLS.

My own Will is a testament to this philosophy. It delineates not only the disposition of any assets I own but also the minutiae of my funeral—specifying who shall read which passage. I have left nothing to the discretion of extended family, whose sentiments may be clouded by greed or personal bias. By making these decisions myself, I have pre-empted the very "nonsense" now on public display.

This responsibility extends beyond death. At age of 42, I have already established a Lasting Power of Attorney. This ensures that should I become incapacitated by accident or illness, the individuals I trust explicitly are legally empowered to make decisions on my behalf, safeguarding my interests and wishes.

True masculinity is not defined merely by biology. It is demonstrated through the conscientious exercise of leadership and foresight. It is about having the discipline and courage to handle your affairs decisively, ensuring your wishes are executed precisely as you intended, both in life and in death.

Daddy Lumba, for all his artistic genius, demonstrably failed to manage his personal domain with the same clarity. 

Let’s be honest, such public contention rarely accompanies the funeral of a man who died without substantial means. 

I am of the opinion that at the heart of this spectacle lies not grief, but money. A well-drafted Will would have been its master.

A more critical imperative, however, is to act decisively during one's lifetime. As a man, you should bestow gifts and transfer assets directly to your intended beneficiaries while you are still alive and of sound mind. Furthermore, take the definitive step of placing property and other significant assets into their names outright.

This proactive approach creates an unambiguous legal reality that cannot be easily challenged or reinterpreted after your passing. It removes the asset from your estate, thereby shielding it from potential disputes, probate delays, or the claims of disgruntled relatives. 

By doing so, you establish absolute certainty, ensuring your wishes are not merely expressed but are legally enshrined, leaving no room for debate or avarice to cloud your intentions once you are gone. This is the ultimate act of provision and protection.

Credit —Chris-Vincent Agyapong