Ghanaian social media is buzzing this morning with a mix of political outrage, entertainment controversy, and relatable family humor.

#PayTheTeachers dominates conversations after the Coalition of Unpaid Teachers picketed the Ministry of Finance yesterday. Some educators claim they’ve worked up to 18 months without salaries.

The protest turned viral when Netherlands-based influencer Mr. Happiness, a known Mahama supporter, publicly blasted the President: “I campaigned for you… pay the teachers”. The hashtag #HarunaWoDeYeKa to wit “Haruna, you owe us” is trending nationwide.

Over in entertainment, Stonebwoy is facing backlash after allegedly spraying ‘spiritual’ water on fans at the TGMA Xperience Concert in Koforidua. Critics call it a “demonic cleansing,” while fans argue it was just to “reduce the heat”. The debate over the line between performance and spirituality is raging.

Meanwhile, for some comic relief, TikToker Mighty is dodging slaps after pranking his mum into signing her up for a dating app. Her furious reaction—“Don’t you know I’m a married woman?”—has sparked hilarious threads about Ghanaian motherhood.

From economic hardship to celebrity culture and family values, these trends reflect a nation using humour and outrage to navigate a tough economic period.

When the curtains rose at the Salle Lougah François in Abidjan’s Palais de la Culture, it wasn’t just the stage lights that commanded attention—it was the weight of a collective breath.

In the dual performance of ZO! Mute, South African choreographic titans Vincent Sekwati Mantsoe and Gregory Maqoma didn’t just stage a dance; they conducted a spiritual excavation.

The evening felt like a masterclass in the economy of energy. Mantsoe’s ZO! channeled the mythic spirit of Queen ZO, a figure of terrifying duality.

Six dancers, cloaked in arresting red, moved through a landscape where street dance collided with ancestral ritual. Here, the body was an instrument of both grace and destruction.

The “physicality” wasn’t merely athletic; it was a rhythmic conversation where body percussion replaced orchestral swells, grounding the performance in the grit of urban life and the sanctity of tradition.

However, the true brilliance emerged in the transition to Maqoma’s Mute. If ZO! was the storm, Mute was the deliberate, ringing silence that follows.

Maqoma challenged the audience to find meaning in absence. By leaning into minimalism, every twitch of a finger or tilt of a head carried the weight of a spoken manifesto.

It raised a poignant question for any modern African audience: in a world filled with the noise of greed and despair, can silence be our most potent form of agency?

As the dancers shifted from chaos to contemplation, ZO! Mute became a metaphor for the continent itself—navigating the fragile line between power and collapse, while stubbornly searching for renewal amidst the decay.

The morning sun rises over Winneba with a golden glow, but the town is already alive. Drums roll across the air as distant thunder, warriors wrapped in colourful cloth gather at the edge of the bush, and crowds line the streets with anticipation.

In the heart of Ghana’s Central Region, the Aboakyer Festival, literally meaning “hunting for game”, has begun.

Celebrated by the Effutu people on the first Saturday of May, Aboakyer is one of Ghana’s most thrilling traditional festivals. Its roots stretch back centuries to the migration of the Effutu ancestors, who believed a powerful deity named Penkye Otu protected their community.

According to oral history, the god once demanded a human sacrifice each year. Over time, elders successfully negotiated a substitution: instead of a person, the people would present a live bush deer captured from the forest. That compromise gave birth to the festival as it is known today.

The climax of Aboakyer is the dramatic deer hunt. Two rival Asafo companies—traditional warrior groups known as Tuafo No. 1 and Dentsifo No. 2—race into the surrounding bush to capture a live deer using only their bare hands. No weapons are allowed.

When the first group emerges from the forest carrying the struggling animal high above their heads, the crowd erupts in cheers, drumming, and dancing. Victory brings honour not just to the hunters, but to the entire company they represent.

Beyond the hunt, Winneba becomes a vibrant stage for tradition. Chiefs in elaborate regalia sit in state during a colourful durbar, while dancers spin to the rhythms of local drums and horns.

Families reunite, visitors flood the streets, and the town transforms into a celebration of identity and belonging.

Yet Aboakyer is more than spectacle. Spiritually, it is an offering of gratitude and protection to Penkye Otu. Socially, it renews bonds within the community and connects younger generations to the courage and beliefs of their ancestors.

For travellers exploring Ghana’s cultural landscape, witnessing Aboakyer is unforgettable. It is not merely a festival—it is a living story of negotiation, resilience, and communal pride, unfolding in the energetic heart of Winneba.