President John Dramani Mahama had arrived in Dormaa with the usual presidential choreography: a neatly laid-out durbar ground, party faithful in coordinated cloth, speeches preloaded with applause points, and a shiny new project to “cut sod” for. This time, it was a night market. A fresh promise. A new beginning. Another symbol of development.
Everything was moving according to plan until the microphone landed in the hands of the man who clearly had not read the script.
The Dormaahene.
Now, chiefs are expected to be diplomatic. Measured. Even poetic in their praise. But on this day, Nana decided to mix diplomacy with a pinch of honesty… and just a little bit of carefully curated mischief.
He started well. Warm greetings. Courtesies. Acknowledgment of the President’s presence. Then came the turn.
Calmly, almost too calmly, he reminded everyone gathered that Dormaa already had a beautiful market. Not just any market, but one constructed under the leadership of Nana Addo Dankwa Akufo-Addo. And he didn’t just mention it in passing. He praised it. Properly. Thoroughly. The kind of praise that makes the original builder sit up a little straighter wherever he is.
You could almost hear the political brakes screech.
Because here was a government trying to announce something new, only to be gently reminded that what they were about to “start” already had a solid cousin standing proudly nearby… courtesy of the man they replaced.
But Nana was not done.
Just when the atmosphere was trying to recover, he delivered the real message. The kind that does not need shouting to land heavily.
He said, in essence: Mr. President, we appreciate the night market… but what we really need is for you to finish what your predecessor started.
And just like that, Agenda 111 entered the conversation.
The almost-completed hospital at Amasu. The one sitting there, not quite finished, not quite functional. The one that has become a quiet symbol of interrupted governance. Nana pointed to it, not angrily, not dramatically, but firmly enough that everyone understood.
Complete it.
Not just that one. All of them.
It was the kind of moment that does not cause chaos, but lingers uncomfortably. Because it raises a question the government would rather not answer too loudly: Why start new projects when old ones are still gathering dust?
Suddenly, the sod-cutting ceremony felt… lighter than it should have been.
The optics shifted. What was meant to be a headline about “Mahama brings development to Dormaa” quietly turned into a reminder that development is not just about starting, it is also about finishing.
And in that moment, the contrast wrote itself.
On one hand, a government eager to plant new signposts of progress.
On the other hand, a chief politely asks why the nearly completed ones haven’t been completed.
No insults were thrown. No confrontation. Just a well-timed truth wrapped in royal courtesy.
But the message landed harder than any opposition speech could have.
Because sometimes, the most uncomfortable criticism does not come from your enemies.
It comes from a chief, smiling, thanking you… and then reminding you that the work in front of you is not new.
It’s unfinished.
Source: GhanaFeed.Com
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