Opinion by Samuel Nii Adjetey
The rains are here again, and with them comes flooding, a familiar and painful reality for some residents of Accra. As dark clouds gather and the first drops fall, anxiety replaces excitement. Roads become rivers, homes are inundated, businesses are disrupted, and lives are put at risk.
For a few weeks, everyone talks about the floods. Politicians visit affected areas and make promises, officials issue statements, and citizens express outrage. Then, when the rainy season passes, we return to business as usual, only to repeat the cycle the following year.
What is even more alarming is that areas once considered relatively safe are now experiencing flooding after only a short downpour. Communities such as Ashongman, Adenta, parts of Legon, Abokobi, Dome, Lapaz, Dzorwulu and Lakeside are increasingly becoming flood victims. It no longer takes hours of heavy rainfall to bring parts of Accra to a standstill. A brief shower is enough to leave roads submerged and residents stranded. The city appears to be losing its ability to absorb and channel water effectively.
Recently, I came across a social media post that read, “As it stands now, even a mosquito crying in the airspace of Accra will cause flooding.” Humorous as it may sound, it reflects a sad reality. The statement resonates because many residents have accepted flooding as an inevitable consequence of rain in the national capital. It is both embarrassing and heartbreaking that in a city aspiring to modernity, a little downpour has become synonymous with disaster.
Whenever flooding occurs, one solution often dominates public discussions. Officials from the Accra Metropolitan Assembly (AMA), Ga East Municipal Assembly, and other affected Metropolitan, Municipal, and District Assemblies (MMDAs) announce plans to demolish structures built in waterways. While I fully support the removal of buildings obstructing natural watercourses, I become enraged whenever this is presented as the primary solution.
These structures did not appear overnight. Someone sold those lands. Someone approved the building permits. Someone was responsible for ensuring that development regulations were enforced. Where were these authorities when these buildings, shops, and factories were being erected? Who gave the permits? Who is in charge of spatial planning in these communities? These are questions that continue to beg for answers.
Growing up in the Ga East and the La-Nkwantanang-Madina Municipalities, I saw rivers, streams, and natural lagoons performing their functions. They held excess water during rainfall and gradually released it as it flowed toward larger water bodies in adjoining communities and eventually the sea. Today, many of those same waterways have disappeared. They have been filled with sand, partitioned, sold, and transformed into residential and commercial developments. Natural drainage systems that once protected communities have been sacrificed in the name of unchecked development. Where do we expect the water to go when it rains?
The most painful aspect of these demolitions is the human cost. ‘Innocent people’ who have invested their life savings, sometimes hundreds of thousands or even millions of cedis, wake up to see their homes or businesses reduced to rubble. Some demolitions are carried out with court orders; others generate legal and ethical controversies. Families are displaced, livelihoods are destroyed, and children are left traumatised by scenes they may never forget. Their tears and confusion are often overlooked in the rush to correct years of negligence.
Again, let me be clear: I support the demolition of structures built in waterways if that is what is necessary to protect lives and property. However, justice must not end with the destruction of buildings. Those who illegally sold the lands, those who approved permits for developments in vulnerable areas, and those whose duty it was to supervise and prevent such encroachments must also be held accountable. It is unacceptable for ordinary citizens alone to bear the consequences while the architects of the problem walk away untouched.
Until a few strong and powerful heads roll, the masses will continue to suffer. Flooding in Accra is no longer merely an environmental challenge; it is a governance challenge. Real solutions require courage, accountability, and a willingness to offend a few influential individuals in order to protect millions of citizens. If we continue to shield those responsible while punishing only the visible victims, the rains will keep coming, the floods will keep rising, and Accra’s annual tragedy will remain unchanged. Sometimes, to save the masses, a few must be held accountable.