Dollar Rain or Divine Reign? Sammy Gyamfi, Nana Agradaa Star in 'The Umuofia Generosity Gala'

In the land of Umuofia, there lived a unique group called Generous Public Servants.

These individuals were so generous they could donate cathedrals while owing money to susu collectors.

In this land, goats became cows through political declarations. Tortoises even became bank managers without opening accounts.

Affliction here was not from malaria or power cuts. Instead, it came from an inflated ego known as Public Charititis Magnifica. This condition starts in the wallet and ends with untraceable generosity funded by "not your father's money."

Let’s visit a smaller village in Umuofia called Tsalikorpe. The local sage, Dumega Korshi Bebli, often said: “When a man bathes in a golden basin but claims he sells kenkey, ask what maize he’s cooking with.”

These wise words resurfaced recently when Lawyer Sammy Gyamfi leaned out of his car window. He dropped foreign currency into the lap of Nana Evangelist Mama Pat Agradaa, a celebrity charm priestess turned Christian evangelist.

There was no fundraising or raffle—just raw dollar rain on a random Tuesday during an Umofia Charitry Show.

In Umuofia, if someone receives a brown envelope under the table, we shout “Thief! Criminal! Sack him!” But if that same person donates ten thousand cedis to a church with cameras and live music, we cheer “Ayekoo, Honourable! May your well never run dry!”

This is our national theatre:

- Act 1: Bribes are bad.
- Act 2: Public donations are divine.
- Act 3: Ask no questions or be accused of bitterness and poverty.

The generosity is so loud that even deaf ancestors are stirring in their graves. Yet we forget to ask: “With whose money are you blessing us, dear Honourable?”

In Umuofia, questioning lavish charity is seen as witchcraft. Our public servants have figured it out: give publicly while stealing privately.

They build hospitals on public servant salaries and sponsor surgeries abroad while renting homes in East Legon. They donate cars to chiefs but struggle to explain their shoe budgets exceeding their salaries.

If you ask questions, you’ll hear the infamous reply: “Wo sika bi ayera anaa?” (Has your money gone missing?) This line is so toxic that even the Auditor-General has aged overnight.

We chase rats that steal corn while ignoring elephants chewing the entire barn with toothpicks. We focus on those who secretly take and overlook those who openly give.

As my late mother-in-law Maame Ama Bio used to say while pounding fufu: “Corruption, like pregnancy, can’t hide for long.”

Now we have the new Executive Code of Conduct for 2025. It warns against receiving gifts but says nothing about those donating stadiums or funding funerals with fanfare.

It’s time to amend that code. No more applauding billion-dollar generosity from people earning teacher salaries!

We must ban shady foundations that wash money cleaner than lions zooming by (pun intended). If your income smells like waakye seller's food, your generosity shouldn’t taste like an oil baron’s wealth.

As my late grandmother Wo'ada Vormawor used to say: “If a mouse starts giving cows as gifts, check your barn.”

Well, Umuofia has checked. The barn is empty; the mice are rich; and we… we are still clapping.