How Ghana’s extraordinary “fantasy coffin” tradition turns a person’s life, passion and profession into a final work of art
ACCRA, GHANA — For Frederick Teiko Ofori, the guitar was more than a musical instrument.
It was part of his identity.
For much of his 40 years, Ofori lived with a guitar in his hands, creating music and expressing himself through melodies. So when his life was suddenly cut short in a tragic road accident, his family found a fitting way to tell his story one final time.
They gave him one last guitar.
Only this time, it was not for playing.
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It was his coffin.
At his funeral on Saturday in Adjen Kotoku Amoama, on the outskirts of Ghana’s capital, Accra, mourners gathered around an enormous wooden coffin carefully crafted in the shape of a guitar.
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The striking creation stood among bright red flowers and a portrait of the deceased, while relatives, friends and community members gathered beneath canopies to shield themselves from the scorching sun.
To an outsider, the sight might appear unusual, even surreal.
But in Ghana, where funerals are often treated as celebrations of life rather than simply occasions of mourning, such a tribute carries a profound meaning.
The coffin was telling Ofori’s story.
When a coffin becomes a biography
In parts of Ghana, particularly among Ga communities around Accra, coffins can become much more than containers for the dead.
They can become biographies carved in wood.
Known as “fantasy” or “figurative” coffins, these extraordinary creations are designed to represent the lives, professions, ambitions and personalities of those being buried.
A fisherman might be buried inside a giant fish.
A farmer could receive a cocoa pod-shaped coffin.
A driver might be laid to rest inside a wooden automobile.
A religious leader could be buried inside a massive Bible.
And for a musician like Ofori, there could hardly have been a more appropriate final symbol than a guitar.
His death had ended his musical journey far too soon.
But his family ensured that music accompanied him to the grave.
The craftsman behind the final tribute
Creating such a coffin requires considerably more than ordinary carpentry.
Daniel Oblie Mensah, affectionately known as “Hello”, has spent more than three decades mastering the art of transforming wood into extraordinary shapes.
At 54, Mensah has seen generations of Ghanaian families commission coffins that capture something deeply personal about their loved ones.
For him, the work is not simply about building a coffin.
It is about understanding the person who will occupy it.
“Anytime someone commissions me to do a coffin in the profession of the deceased, it excites me,” Mensah told AFP.
“It helps me truly honour the deceased and the family.”
That philosophy explains why these coffins can carry such emotional weight.
The final resting place becomes a physical representation of the life that has been lost.
A tradition born from Ghanaian culture
The tradition of sculptural coffins emerged among Ga craftsmen around Accra during the middle of the 20th century.
Its origins are partly linked to the elaborate palanquins traditionally used to carry chiefs.
Over time, craftsmen began transforming the idea into something uniquely connected to ordinary people’s lives.
The result was an art form in which death became intertwined with creativity, identity and celebration.
Rather than choosing a conventional rectangular coffin, families could commission something that said:
This is who our loved one was.
The practice has since attracted international attention.
Some of these extraordinary coffins have been displayed in museums around the world, transforming what was once primarily a funeral tradition into a recognised form of contemporary art.
A guitar-shaped coffin created by Ghanaian artist Paa Joe, for example, has been displayed at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Another life remembered through a giant pen
Ofori’s guitar was not the only recent example of Ghana’s remarkable funeral artistry.
In Paanor, in the Ga South area outside Accra, the final journey of a retired teacher was represented by another giant object closely associated with his life’s work.
Samuel Commey Tetteh, born in 1943, had reportedly spent more than half a century teaching.
To his community, he was simply known as “Teacher.”
When his funeral arrived, mourners were greeted by a coffin shaped like a giant pen.
Once again, Mensah was responsible for the creation.
It took him approximately two weeks to complete.
The symbolism was unmistakable.
The pen represented education, teaching and the decades Tetteh had dedicated to shaping young minds.
Yet the elaborate design did not replace the solemnity of the funeral.
Traditional rites remained central.
A sheep was slaughtered, with its blood applied to the coffin as part of the funeral rituals.
Then the giant pen was lowered into the ground.
The artwork disappeared.
The memory remained.
Where carpentry meets art
For young craftsmen such as Lawrence Okoe Anang, the profession sits somewhere between carpentry, sculpture and art.
Anang recalls one of the most difficult projects he encountered — a crocodile-shaped coffin commissioned more than a decade ago for a priest in Ghana’s Volta Region.
At the time, Anang was still learning the trade.
He had started training at just 10 years old.
His father built the coffin while the young apprentice assisted around the workshop.
Years later, Anang now operates a workshop with his younger brother.
The tools may have changed, but the central idea remains the same.
Families bring photographs.
They describe professions.
They explain personalities.
They talk about passions.
And then the craftsmen turn those stories into wood.
An unusual industry with global appeal
The craft has also become a source of income and international recognition.
A typical fantasy coffin can cost around 10,000 Ghanaian cedis, while pieces commissioned specifically for museums and exhibitions can command higher prices.
Exhibition pieces require more durable materials because they are expected to survive for decades rather than simply serve a funeral before being buried.
Modern equipment has also transformed the workshops.
Machines have made production faster, while improved access to timber has made it easier for craftsmen to complete increasingly complicated designs.
International collectors and museums have further expanded the reach of the craft.
What began as a deeply personal funeral tradition has consequently become a fascinating window into Ghanaian culture for audiences around the world.
More than a coffin
Yet beneath the craftsmanship, the fame and the international interest lies something much more human.
Grief.
Families are forced to confront a difficult question whenever someone dies:
How do you say goodbye to a life that cannot be replaced?
For some Ghanaian families, the answer is to create something that captures the essence of the person they have lost.
The coffin becomes a final statement.
A fisherman gets his fish.
A teacher gets his pen.
A farmer gets his cocoa pod.
A driver gets his car.
And a musician gets his guitar.
Ofori’s final performance
For Frederick Teiko Ofori, the giant guitar was perhaps the most fitting farewell his family could have imagined.
He left behind a wife, a young family and a child born only one week before the funeral.
His musical career was abruptly silenced.
There would be no more performances.
No more songs.
No more moments with a guitar in his hands.
But at his funeral, his greatest passion was there beside him.
The mourners gathered around it.
They looked at the enormous wooden instrument that represented the man they had come to bury.
Then came the moment when the guitar was lowered into the earth.
His final performance had no music.
There was no applause.
Only silence.
And as the giant guitar disappeared beneath the ground, Ghana’s remarkable funeral tradition delivered its most powerful message:
A person’s life may end, but the things that defined them can live on in the memories — and sometimes even in the art — they leave behind.
