GHANA WEATHER

How 15% fare cut ended up costing Ghanaians millions

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By Charles Sarpong Amponsah

A nationwide fare cut meant to ease transport burdens instead exposed the cracks of a broken system marked by manipulation, silence, and survival.

On May 24, 2025, the Ghana Private Road Transport Union (GPRTU) announced a 15% reduction in public transport fares following a drop in fuel prices. The move was expected to bring relief to millions.

But on the ground, the story played out differently. Commuters are still overpaying. Routes once completed in a single trip are now split into overpriced segments. Sometimes, the cost isn’t just financial, it ends in violence or even death.

And beneath it all, in the shadows of this chaos, a hidden class of young men, ‘shadow boys’, keeps the system running without recognition, rights, or reward.

Methodology

This investigative report draws on four weeks of fieldwork across four of Ghana’s most densely populated regions: Greater Accra, Ashanti, Eastern, and Central. The research combined commuter surveys, in-person interviews, expert insight, media monitoring, satellite-based mapping, receipt-based fare verification, and custom-coded map visualisations to examine how a nationwide fare reduction unfolded in practice.

A total of 200 commuter responses were collected. Random interviews were conducted at lorry stations and along major public transport corridors. Additional inputs came from respondents in Western, Upper East, Upper West, Ahafo, Oti, and Volta regions, providing a broader, though non-representative, national snapshot.

Fare changes were verified using pre-May 24 records, the official Ghana Private Road Transport Union (GPRTU) directive, and documented fare receipts from intercity transport routes.

One public transport route, from Kasoa to Circle in Accra, was closely documented using satellite imagery, field photography, and a scroll-driven visualisation to illustrate fare segmentation and route manipulation. This route was selected for its high commuter volume and recurring patterns of non-compliance.

All participants gave informed consent. While the survey does not claim statistical representativeness, the findings offer a grounded, multi-layered account of how the fare cut was experienced on the ground.

Across Ghana, commuters report no relief

It’s Monday, May 26, 2025. At Nsawam, Winnie Kotey waited for a trotro, a privately owned minibus that serves as a form of public transportation, to Accra. “They said fares have been reduced, but here it’s the same. Even La to Makola hasn’t changed.”

Winnie, a 43-year-old mother of three, is not alone.

Across the country, commuters echoed Winnie’s experience. Fares haven’t changed.

To test the true reach of the government’s fare directive, GBC Digital Platforms surveyed 200 commuters across four regions: Greater Accra, Ashanti, Eastern, and Central. Together, these regions account for more than half (54%) of the national population — over 16.6 million people, according to the 2021 Census.

The findings showed a clear pattern. Most commuters said fares on their usual routes had not reflected the full 15% cut. Many reported route manipulation, the practice of commercial drivers dropping commuters off midway and demanding extra fare to continue the journey, along with increased costs or simple confusion over what the fare should be. When more than half of Ghana’s population lives in regions where fare relief failed to take full effect, it signals something deeper than local noncompliance — it points to a system under strain.

A separate batch of responses from Western, Ahafo, Upper West, Upper East, Oti, and Volta suggested that the problem extended far beyond urban centres.

These voices are more than complaints. They reveal a disconnect between policy and reality, a quiet daily loss that commuters bear in cedis and silence.

What the data shows

The visual above shows survey responses from 200 commuters across Ashanti, Greater Accra, Eastern, and Central regions. While the 15% fare cut was announced nationwide, its implementation has been patchy and often ignored.

🔴 Ashanti: Where the cut was widely ignored

29 out of 50 respondents said fares hadn’t changed.

33 out of 50 reported route manipulation.

“I paid GHC 6, now I pay GHC 5.50. Commercial drivers are always concerned about their income. When the government said that fare should be reduced by 15% they deducted 50 pesewas instead of the percentage but when it comes to the matter of them increasing, they don’t use the percentage,” one commuter who lives at Appiadu and uses KNUST, Oforikrom route said.

🟢 Eastern: Top compliance, but with exceptions

35 out of 50 saw fare reductions.

8 out of 50 still faced route manipulation.

“Authorities should fix rates and enforce them,” said a Koforidua commuter.

🟡 Greater Accra: A region of ‘maybe’

34 out of 50 saw fare cuts.

20 out of 50 said route manipulation happens “sometimes”.

“When fares increase, drivers immediately print and post in their cars for reference. They seem to forget that practice when fares reduce,” a Sakumono resident who uses the Ashaiman underbridge route said.

🟩 Central: Confused, not defiant

25 out of 50 saw a fare cut.

12 out of 50 weren’t even sure if fares had changed.

“The fare remains the same. The transport unions and operators have consistently been taking community members along that stretch for granted. Fixed charges for shorter distance and the reduction hasn’t been implemented,” a Mankessim commuter who uses Abeadze Dominase route said.

📊 The pattern

Even among the 112 respondents in the four regions who said they got a fare cut, 25 still experienced route manipulation. Drivers shifted routes, shortened trips, or changed classifications to claw back income.

But numbers don’t ride buses. The gap between what they show and what commuters live reveals where the system’s fractures truly lie.

From the data and fieldwork, it became clear that the system doesn’t resist change with silence, it resists with tactics. The most widespread was the segmentation of routes: turning one journey into several, often by the same vehicle and driver, as seen along routes like Kasoa–Circle/Accra or Kejetia–Afrancho. Other tactics were subtler: reductions applied only at off-peak hours, or fare hikes quietly reintroduced during evenings. Confusion was also weaponised — many passengers didn’t know the new fares, making them easier to exploit.

And in at least 14 responses, the word “fight” appeared, describing real altercations between drivers and commuters over inflated charges. The fare cut wasn’t just ignored; in many cases, it was actively undone.

Policy isn’t enough. Without enforcement and clarity, fare cuts get lost between the station and the street.

But the numbers were just the start. The stories behind them were louder and darker.

🧾 Receipts don’t lie

On June 17, 2025, GBC Digital Platforms tested fares on a regulated route from Madina to Koforidua.

  • Trip to Koforidua: GH¢45
  • Return trip, same route: GH¢50

📃 Same road. Same service. Two different prices.

If a single commuter quietly loses GH¢5, imagine what happens when millions take these trips daily. Multiply this across routes, and the “15% fare cut” becomes a myth — one receipt at a time.

Source: GBC Digital Platforms

These receipts reveal more than inconsistency. They confirm what commuters have suspected all along: fare reductions are selectively applied, often ignored, and rarely enforced. Even on regulated intercity routes, price hikes creep in without explanation.

This signpost near Koforidua’s Central Station points to Adweso and the New Juaben Municipal Assembly, anchoring a crossroads where governance daily life and culture converge.

In Koforidua, a shared taxi waited by the roadside, engine idling as the driver called out, “Adweso, Okorase!” The fare was now GHC 5, down slightly from the old GHC 5.50. Inside, tension simmered. One woman, Ntiamoah, shifted in her seat and muttered, “The price is not up to the exact reduction.” Then, turning to another passenger, she added, “What you need is to wake up and have life.”

In Kumasi, commuters described a system not just broken but unfair. “Kenyasi Abirem drivers always double the fare in the evening,” Kwabena, who lives at Buokrom Estate, said. Another commuter at Afrancho added, “You are not going home if you are not willing to spend extra money on split trips. I prefer there are measures to control fare charges, split trips and not even the reduction.”

In Accra, frustration ran deeper. “The split got worse after the fare was reduced. I used to take two cars to work. Now I take three,” said a commuter at Spintex. Another passenger who uses the Circle route from Tantra Hills added, “They fight with us when we ask for price reduction. 6 cedis but they take 10 cedis in the evening and when there is traffic.”

In Cape Coast, uncertainty clouded answers. A commuter from Apam said: “At first, I paid GHC30 to Pedu Junction. It’s still the same.”

At Pedu Junction, a signpost points to Takoradi, Cape Coast and Jukwa, marking a corridor of movement and trade. In the heart of Cape Coast, the crab monument at London Bridge stands guard, a symbol of the city’s enduring spirit and defiance in the face of odds.

From Ghana’s coast to its northern plains, the answers stayed eerily consistent. In the Upper East Region, a ‘Yellow Yellow’ tricycle user on the Bolga–Navrongo–Paga road said: “I paid GHC 7, and it’s still GHC 7. I even don’t get to Sumbrungu, I stop at Atula hotel in Yikene yet l pay Sumbrungu fare.” Another commuter in Pobaga added, “Still nothing has changed. Fares should go down if fuel prices have.”

Further west, the resignation deepened. In Wa, a commuter to Bamahu shrugged: “The reduction of fare is not practically on the ground. Everyone talks like it’s happening but nothing has changed.”

In Ahafo, it wasn’t just about price, it was about unpredictability. “From Kumasi to Ahafo is different from Ahafo to Kumasi. We need a fixed amount to be paid,” said Kyeremeh at Hwidiem.

In the Western Region, a few drivers had reduced fares, but not all. “Some drivers are not reducing the fare,” a commuter at Butumagyebu who plies the Fijai route, said.

In the Volta Region, Zigah waited patiently at the roadside stop at Asadame, watching buses pull in and out. “Drivers respond quickly to price hikes, but stay silent when fuel prices drop,” he said.

In the Oti Region, Joseph stood waiting for a vehicle in Ahamansu. “It’s still GHC 20. Unfair to the government. We make them look like liars,” he said.

Each region told the same story in a different accent. What looked like isolated cases was a nationwide failure in enforcement and accountability.

Crackdown and resistance

The GPRTU directive was clear: new fares start on May 24. But many drivers didn’t comply.

General Secretary Godfred Abulbire acknowledged the issue and warned, “One of the punishments drivers fear most is being stopped from loading passengers.” Still, he admitted the power to enforce lies with the police.

For weeks, commuters were left with no relief. In most places, it faded on arrival. But in Kumasi, something changed.

On June 11, the Kumasi Metropolitan Assembly (KMA) launched a crackdown on overcharging drivers. Twenty-two were arrested and had their vehicles impounded. Offenders were arrested, their vehicles impounded, and fines between GHC 500 and GHC 1,500 were imposed.

Trotros impounded during the fare enforcement exercise sit at the KMA compound. Photo: Kumasi Metropolitan Assembly (Facebook).

Head of Urban Transport at KMA, Randy Wilson, said, “We are committed to maintaining discipline and fairness.”

It was a rare moment of accountability and a reminder that enforcement can work when there’s political will.

But the very next day, drivers at Duase in the Kwabre East District blocked roads in protest. They felt targeted. Some accused enforcement teams of extortion.

In a system starved of trust, even enforcement feels more like punishment than protection. Without clear communication and publicly available fare rates, confusion breeds conflict, sometimes with deadly consequences.

Expert Analysis: A broken system that needs muscle and law

Appiah Kusi Adomako, an economist, barrister, and solicitor of the Supreme Court of Ghana, is the West Africa Regional Director of CUTS International, a leading public policy and consumer advocacy think tank. In an exclusive interview, he outlined structural weaknesses and legal blind spots that make Ghana’s transport sector vulnerable to fare manipulation and price distortion.

Who really holds power?

“Metropolitan, Municipal, and District Assemblies (MMDAs) have the legal authority to enforce fare reductions, but in practice, this mandate has not been exercised effectively. MMDAs issue operational licenses to commercial transport operators within their jurisdictions and have the power to sanction or revoke licenses for non-compliance. Unfortunately, they have largely neglected this role either due to a lack of awareness or political will. Most people think it is the work of the Police. No, it is the assemblies.”

Mr. Adomako called for an immediate policy shift, insisting that the Ministry of Local Government must activate existing laws by instructing MMDAs to sanction or revoke the licenses of non-compliant drivers.

Fixing fare transparency

He also pushed for greater fare transparency through localised fare displays. “Fare transparency can be significantly improved at the local level. Each MMDA should collaborate with transport unions to agree on new fare rates based on approved benchmarks. Once finalised, these fares should be prominently displayed inside vehicles and at transport terminals. Public awareness can be further enhanced by posting fare information in community spaces such as markets, churches, mosques, bus stops, and information centers. This reduces information asymmetry, where drivers hold more knowledge than passengers and may exploit this imbalance. A publicly accessible central database, updated by the Ministry of Transport or NRSA, could also support nationwide transparency.”

Cartels and collusion

Beyond transparency, he warned of monopolies within the sector. “Some unions monopolise profitable routes and block others from entering. Some even take over terminals and restrict competitors.” To correct that, he advocated for a national competition law that can investigate and sanction price-fixing while promoting route diversity.

Revive public transport, restore balance

Finally, he said reviving public transport like Metro Mass and Ayalolo is not just about convenience, it’s economic strategy. “In many parts of the world, urban transport is managed by city authorities and heavily supported through public funding. The same approach should apply in Ghana. Without reliable public transport, the cost to urban productivity—through congestion, delays, and pollution is immense. If Ayalolo charges GHC 10 for a route, private operators can’t justify GHC 20. In this way, a well-funded public transport system ensures fair pricing across the sector.”

Appiah Kusi Adomako

Policy without power

“A major gap lies in the weak implementation of the National Transport Policy. While the policy exists, it remains largely dormant. MMDAs need to be more proactive and should recruit trained transportation planners to assess and manage their transport systems effectively. Without such technical capacity, planning and enforcement remain reactive rather than strategic.”

— Appiah Kusi Adomako, Economist, Lawyer and West Africa Regional Director, CUTS International

Inflation falls. Fares don’t.

Ghana’s economy is stabilising. Inflation dropped to 18.4% in May, the lowest in over three years. Transport inflation, one of the top ten contributors to the inflation basket, fell sharply from 14.9% to 7.5%.

Even Ghana’s economic recovery hasn’t pierced the dysfunction.

But none of this is making a difference at the lorry stations. Many drivers argue their operational costs are still too high. They don’t believe fuel price cuts are enough to offset their daily expenses.

Acheampong Baafi Francis, a driver in Accra, narrowed his eyes and leaned forward when asked about the fare reduction. “Why is it that always your eyes are on drivers? Have you checked the cost of spare parts and others we buy?”

In Koforidua, two drivers offered contrasting accounts. One said he had recently bought parts, and the prices hadn’t dropped. Another, who now sticks to short-distance trips, added, “Traders have not reduced prices, but drivers have been asked to reduce.” To him, the fare cut seemed one-sided, enforced only in transport, while others passed on no savings.

To verify the drivers’ argument about high operational costs, we visited spare parts shops.

At Abossey Okai, Kakrah, a spare parts dealer, acknowledged some improvements but said the overall burden remains heavy. “Under Mahama’s time, we are able to clear goods faster. Those days, it could take one or two months to clear just one container. Now, we can clear up to three a day, maybe 15 or 20 in a month.”

While clearance processes have improved and duties on some items reduced, Kakrah noted that the prices of home-used components remain high. “Some things have come down, yes, but overall, it’s still expensive.”

His reflection, part nostalgia and part critique, captures a broader frustration: even when costs fall, prices don’t always follow. The deeper flaw is this: without enforced fare benchmarks, drivers can justify any fare. Now, many simply split routes mid-journey to make up the difference.

Route manipulation

Some of the hardest-hit commuters make these journeys every day — paying more, waiting longer, pacing for the next bus, and losing time and money to a system that seems designed to stretch them.

A trip from Kasoa to Circle in Accra, which should cost around GH¢10 after the fare cut, now costs as much as GH¢17. Drivers split the journey into multiple stops, treating each leg as a separate fare, even though it’s the same bus and the same driver.

Explore the full segment breakdown in the interactive map below.

In the morning, Serwaa steps out with a basket in one hand and her baby strapped to her back. She catches a trotro from Kasoa, headed for Circle. At Barrier, the mate shouts a new destination. She pays. Same at Mallam. Same at Kaneshie. Same bus, same faces — just new fares at every stop. By the time she gets to Circle, she’s spent GH¢17 for a journey that should cost GH¢10.

After a long day at Adabraka Market, she does it all again in reverse: Circle to Kaneshie, fare paid. Kaneshie to Mallam, fare paid. Mallam to Barrier, fare paid. Then finally Kasoa. Another GH¢17 gone. In a single day, GH¢34 — ₵14 more than the official cost.

“I can use that money to buy bread or pampers. Now it’s just vanishing,” she says quietly, her voice catching as she swallows.

Survey responses in Accra showed the highest number of complaints from Kasoa, Circle, Amasaman-Pokuase, Accra Central, and the Motorway corridor, with additional reports from Dansoman and Spintex.

It’s not an isolated case. Across cities and towns, passengers describe being dropped partway, reloaded, and charged again — a quiet erosion of trust in a system meant to serve.

In Kumasi, it’s no different. Commuters say they’re often forced off mid-journey and made to pay extra to reach their destination. The tactic, known locally as short short, has left many frustrated and financially stretched.

A directional signpost near Suame Roundabout in Kumasi points toward Kejetia, Old Tafo, Suame, and Bantama — marking a corridor where some commuters reported segmented routes and inflated fares.

Like Serwaa, Michael Adjei at Kejetia said a once-GHC 4 trip now costs over GHC 10. “Kejetia to Suame, Suame to Maakro, Maakro to Kronum, and Kronum to Afrancho,” he listed, counting each segment on his fingers.

The Kejetia corridor saw the most complaints, alongside Santasi–Tech Junction, Ejisu, and the Junction–Oforikrom route. Other areas showed isolated cases.

“There should be a general fare. Sometimes I pay more in the evening than in the morning,” a commuter who uses the trotro along the KNUST route shared. Another resident added, “Fares have been reduced, but with these short distances and evening overpricing, it doesn’t feel like anything has changed.”

While less common, similar cases were reported in Central and Eastern regions.

The cost of silence

In a country of over 30 million people, where many rely on public transport to survive the week, these tactics hit hard and the stakes are high. When fare cuts are ignored or manipulated, the burden falls hardest on those with the least to spare. And when enforcement fails, the financial loss isn’t abstract: it adds up, quietly draining millions from the system each day.

💰 The hidden cost of a broken system

If just 2 million commuters each overpay GH¢1 a day — whether from segmented routes or fares not reflecting the full 15% cut — that’s GH¢60 million lost every month. Left unchecked, it could quietly drain GH¢720 million a year from already stretched pockets.

That’s money that could fund:
– Food, school fees, and medicine for thousands of families 🍚📚💊
– Over 10,000 student scholarships 🎓
– 100 health clinics or dozens of rural roads 🏥🛣️

This isn’t about spare change. It’s about the slow siphoning of survival money on a national scale.

The shadow workforce

In the middle of this chaos are the shadow boys or loading boys. They hustle at many bus stops, shouting destinations, and filling buses. Some get tips. Others get insults.

Kofi Isaac, 30, works at Kwame Nkrumah Circle. With restless eyes and cracked palms, he explains how commuters play a role in the exploitation. “We are not lazy. We are surviving. If mates shout high fares or short routes and people refuse to enter, they will change. But when everyone enters, they take advantage. We all help them do it.”

“We are not lazy. We are surviving. If mates shout high fares or short routes and people refuse to enter, they will change. But when everyone enters, they take advantage. We all help them do it.”
— Kofi Isaac, Circle
Loading boy at a bus stop
A loading boy pauses at a bus stop in Accra.
Often called ‘shadow boys’, these young men work long hours lifting cargo and loading commuters onto buses — unpaid, unprotected, and unseen. Their labour keeps the system moving, but they remain invisible in policy, pay, and protection.

In moments of desperation, social behaviour, not just corruption, becomes the grease in the machine.

Trapped by roads and silence

In places like Ashaiman in Greater Accra, fare manipulation isn’t even the issue. Sometimes, there are barely any cars. Roads are broken. People wait hours and pay whatever is asked.

“We are not getting cars. We don’t have any say, so we will pay. We must go,” said a woman at Ashaiman Katamanso (Auntie Araba), her words stripped of complaint — just fact. At the Lebanon Zone 4 and 5 station, a driver named Simon added, “Our roads have been in a bad state for years.”

That story repeats elsewhere. In Ahafo, poor infrastructure deepens the cost of commuting. “The bad road network in Ahafo is the main cause of high transport fares. The Sunyani–Ntotroso road is in very bad shape. It needs urgent attention,” Kyeremeh said

Trapped until something snaps

Across the country, commuters are boxed in by broken roads, fare hikes, and silence. But not everyone stays quiet. Pressure builds — then breaks.

Mascot, a commuter at Tema Station, witnessed one such moment. “I just saw a driver and passenger quarrel over the new prices. I waited patiently to fold my money into the mate’s hand. Ghana, we are our own problem.”

It doesn’t always end in shouting. In 2022, a man died at the Lapaz terminal after a GHC 2 dispute turned physical.

The Ghana Statistical Service has urged businesses to pass savings to consumers. But that message is lost in the chaos of horns and shouting mates.

A promise without power

Ghana’s transport sector stands at a crossroads. The economy may be cooling. Prices may be stabilising. But for the average commuter, things still feel out of control. The system still lacks enforcement, transparency, infrastructure, and trust.

The Kumasi crackdown proved a simple truth: without enforcement, fare reductions are just ink on paper. KMA’s actions show the cost of inaction isn’t just measured in cedis, it’s counted in the quiet surrender of everyday Ghanaians who just want to get home.

As Kofi at Circle put it: “They won’t reduce it not when we help them get away with it.”

Unless something changes, the system will keep feeding on itself — and on us. Because in Ghana, it’s not just the fare that costs you. It’s the silence you pay it with.

But silence is not a strategy.

Relief will only come with reform — one that starts with transparent fare publishing, empowered local enforcement, and a revival of public transport options like Ayalolo and Metro Mass. Assemblies must assign and enforce fixed routes for commercial vehicles, while commuters and civil society groups must demand accountability when drivers deviate, overcharge, or manipulate the system. Awareness campaigns, community reporting, and sustained public pressure will be key to rebuilding trust and fairness.

Until then, policy will remain paper-deep, while commuters carry the cost in silence and cedis.

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