The Status Game
Why We Earn, Why We Spend, and Why We Stay Broke
“What Will People Say?”
There is a question that has cost Ghanaians — collectively — billions of cedis.
It is not asked out loud. But it governs hundreds of financial decisions every year.
What will people say?
What will they say if my funeral is simple? What will they say if I drive that old car for one more year? What will they say if my wedding does not have a band, a canopy, a whole grilled cow, and a DJ playing until 4am?
We spend money we do not have to impress people we do not like, to maintain a reputation that does not pay our bills. And we do it with a smile on our face and debt in our pockets.
“We spend money we do not have, to impress people we do not like, to maintain a reputation that does not pay our bills.”
The Funeral Economy
Let me be direct about something most people dance around.
Ghanaian funerals are beautiful. They are culturally meaningful. They are a genuine expression of community, love, and honour.
They are also financially catastrophic for the families hosting them.
A modest, mid-level funeral in Ghana costs between GHS 20,000 and GHS 100,000. In a country where the median annual income is well below GHS 30,000. Families borrow. They sell assets. They drain savings built over the years. They go into debt for a one-day event.
Why? Because in our culture, the funeral is not just about the dead. It is a public declaration of the family’s honour, wealth, and unity. And if you cannot meet that declaration, the judgment is swift and merciless.
I have sat with families who were still paying off funeral debts three years after the event. The deceased had a beautiful send-off. The living was financially broken.
This is not just a cultural problem. It is a psychological one. The social pain of being seen as dishonouring a parent or elder is so powerful — so visceral — that families will do almost anything to avoid it. Even if “anything” means financial ruin.
A 2025 piece in The Business & Financial Times noted how Akan funerals function as “statements of pride and identity.” True. But identity purchased on credit is borrowed identity. And borrowed identity comes with interest.
The Car You Cannot Afford
I know a man — I will not say his name — who is earning GHS 8,000 a month. He bought a second-hand saloon car on hire purchase for GHS 5,500 per month. Add insurance, fuel, and maintenance. He has approximately GHS 1,500 remaining for rent, food, school fees, and savings.
He has zero savings. He has no emergency fund. He is one car breakdown away from a financial crisis.
But at church on Sunday, he looks the part. People greet him warmly. His colleagues respect him. His in-laws are impressed.
The car is not a transport. The car is a costume. A very expensive, depreciating costume.
In Ghana, conspicuous consumption — buying things to signal status rather than for genuine utility — is not just common. It is expected. And the psychological pressure to participate is enormous.
Social comparison theory, developed by psychologist Leon Festinger, tells us that humans naturally evaluate themselves by comparing themselves to others. When everyone around you is spending on appearances, your brain registers not spending as failure, even when the spending is destroying you.
The Wedding Industrial Complex
I want to say something about weddings, and I want you to really hear it.
Your wedding is one day. Your marriage is (ideally) a lifetime. And yet many Ghanaians spend more on the wedding than they will save in the next three years.
I have counselled couples who started their marriages with joint debt from the wedding. They had not even unpacked their suitcases from the honeymoon before financial stress was poisoning the relationship.
The wedding is for the guests. The marriage is for you. Plan accordingly.
How to Win Against Status Spending
The antidote to status spending is not deprivation. It is intentionality.
Ask yourself, before every major purchase: “Am I buying this because I need it, or because I fear what people will say if I don’t have it?” That single question, asked honestly, will save you millions of cedis over a lifetime.
Set a “social spending cap.” Decide in advance what you are willing to spend on funerals, weddings, and social events per year. Put it in your budget. When you hit the cap, the answer is no. This is not disrespect. This is survival.
Find your tribe of financial equals. This is crucial. If everyone in your social circle is living above their means, you will feel the pressure to do the same. Deliberately cultivate friendships with people who are building wealth quietly. They exist. Find them.
And finally — let someone else go first. Let another family host a modest funeral. Watch what happens. Does the community truly abandon them? Or do they quietly respect that family’s wisdom even while criticising publicly? Usually, it is the latter.