Benjamin Aidoo started his pallbearing company in 2003, initially offering standard funeral services before adding choreography5. He took up the profession during high school and built the business from there3. Aidoo's motivation was personal. His father died in front of him when he was just eight years old, and watching his mother and family endure that grief shaped his approach to death1. "Our way of saying goodbye to the dead gives them morale, boosts their morale," Aidoo explained to VICE. "Bring out a dance, and people stop crying and then start cheering us"1.

The group's signature look, matching black suits and sunglasses, came from a specific request. The family of a deceased parliament member asked the pallbearers to wear matching suits, and the overwhelmingly positive response made it permanent3. By 2013, Aidoo's team had completed over 200 performances, with prices starting at 800 Ghanaian cedis2.

The first widely circulated video appeared on YouTube on January 22, 2015, uploaded by a user called Travelin Sister, and picked up over 2.9 million views over the following years4. A BBC News Africa report from July 27, 2017 gave the group much broader international exposure5. A third key clip, showing pallbearers accidentally dropping a coffin mid-dance, was posted to Facebook by user Bigscout Nana Prempeth on May 2, 2019, collecting 2,900 reactions, 4,600 shares, and 350,000 views within a year4.

The meme format itself, pairing the pallbearer footage with "Astronomia" as a fail clip punchline, first appeared on February 26, 2020. TikTok user @lawyer_ggmu posted what Know Your Meme identifies as the earliest known instance, which pulled in over 4.5 million views and 474,700 likes within a month4.

The meme's most unusual legacy is its adoption as a genuine public health tool. Governments in Brazil, Colombia, and Peru used the pallbearer imagery in official COVID-19 awareness campaigns5. Billboards, social media posts, and even police performances leveraged the meme's dark humor to communicate a serious message about social distancing3.

"Astronomia" saw a massive streaming boost thanks entirely to the meme, climbing charts worldwide in spring 20206. The song had been a relatively obscure EDM track for years before the meme made it instantly recognizable.

Aidoo and his team appeared in a second BBC News feature in May 2020 discussing their accidental fame4. Trump's campaign use of the format in a Facebook video attacking Biden showed how quickly the meme moved from internet joke to political messaging tool4. In Georgia, the political party Girchi adapted the format for their own messaging5.

The meme also drew attention to Ghanaian funeral traditions more broadly. VICE produced a full documentary-style feature exploring the cultural context of dancing pallbearers and how Ghanaian attitudes toward death differ from Western norms1. The coverage introduced global audiences to the idea that funerals could be celebrations rather than purely somber occasions.

The Coffin Dance meme sits at the intersection of a real Ghanaian funeral tradition, a Russian-produced EDM track, and the specific anxieties of early pandemic life.

Dancing pallbearers aren't unique to Aidoo's company. Similar practices exist in other parts of Africa and the American South2. But Aidoo's group stood out because of their polished choreography and showmanship. Professor Evelyn Efua Xeflide, an expert on Ghanaian funeral culture, explained the broader context to VICE: "Ghanaian relationship with death is part of the daily living. That is why a funeral is a process. It is not an event that is held in a day and that is it"1. Funerals in Ghana are extended celebrations of life, not just somber farewells.

The musical backbone of the meme has its own story. "Astronomia" was originally composed by Russian musician Anton Igumnov, who produces under the name Tony Igy2. The version most people know is a 2014 remix by Dutch duo Vicetone, consisting of Ruben den Boer and Victor Pool2. When the meme took off, the song climbed global music charts on its meme status alone6.

The COVID-19 pandemic gave the meme a second life beyond pure comedy. In Brazil, the city government of Caldas Novas in Goiás state installed billboards featuring the dancing pallbearers with the caption "Stay at home or dance with us" to promote social distancing5. In Colombia and Peru, police officers imitated the group's dance while carrying a coffin to discourage people from breaking quarantine5. In Belarus, activists from the opposition Youth Bloc used the dance in May 2020 to protest a military parade held despite the pandemic2.

Aidoo himself leaned into the public health messaging. His company became a face of COVID-19 awareness campaigns on billboards and social media across multiple countries2. In an interview, Aidoo quipped: "Otherwise we are dead, and you're going to be dancing with me"1.

The meme also caught the attention of game developers. An easter egg referencing the Coffin Dance was included in Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War5. When the White House COVID-19 outbreak hit in October 2020, with then-President Trump testing positive, the pallbearer meme saw a brief revival on social media5.

Grief expert David Kessler, author of *Finding Meaning* and founder of grief.com, wasn't surprised by the meme's pandemic popularity. "There's no one model for grief, and there's no right way to do grief," he told VICE. "When death is in the air, we need a way to release it. And people don't understand laughter is sometimes the way we deal with uncomfortable emotions"1.

Political figures also used the format. Leaders of New Political Center, a Georgian political party known as Girchi, created their own version wearing traditional chokhas5. Trump's Biden edit in May 2020 was one of the most high-profile political uses of any meme that year4.

Despite its peak being brief, roughly March through May 2020, Coffin Dance left a lasting mark. Aidoo's group employed over 100 people at its height of fame3, and he spoke of post-pandemic plans to open international branches and train new pallbearers3. The meme drew a direct line between a local Ghanaian business practice and a global internet joke, all filtered through a pandemic that made death feel uncomfortably close.