Fellow Ghanaians – Rent, Ruin and the Reign of Greed

Fellow Ghanaians,

Every morning, in every corner of this country, thousands of Ghanaians wake up to a single, recurring crisis—not of war, not of hunger, but of housing. And not because there are no houses, but because there is no fairness. Not because there are no laws, but because the laws don’t work. And not because we are a poor country per se, but because too many have turned housing into a greedy, lawless empire that thrives on the desperation of the very people it was supposed to shelter.

Ask the young graduate in Accra searching for a room to rent. Ask the newlywed couple trying to start life on a modest income. Ask the trotro driver, the schoolteacher, the young nurse, or the radio presenter living. In today’s Ghana, finding a decent place to live has become a nightmare. Renting a one-bedroom apartment in Accra, Kumasi, or Takoradi has become an Olympic event and not for the faint-hearted.

Landlords and landladies are demanding two years’ rent in advance, sometimes even more, and they say it with boldness, as if it is the law. Some ask for three. No receipts. No contracts. No negotiation. Just take it or leave it. And they know you will take it. Because you are desperate. Because you have no choice. Because the market has been left to fester, unregulated and unchecked.

And perhaps the most painful irony in all this is that even after paying such outrageous amounts, sometimes two to three years of rent in advance, tenants are still subjected to appalling living conditions. You would think that such steep upfront payments would guarantee quality housing, functional facilities, and, at the very least, human dignity. But no. What many tenants walk into after coughing up their life savings is often little more than a repainted concrete box with broken plumbing, cracked tiles, leaking roofs, and washrooms that belong in a museum of neglect.

In too many parts of this country, tenants are treated not as valued clients, but as intruders. Washrooms are often communal but unusable, kitchens are shared but filthy, and privacy is an illusion. The windows barely open, the doors barely lock, and electricity becomes a privilege, not a right. Yet these very same landlords turn around and charge what can only be described as premium prices for poverty. There is no tenant protection. No quality control. And no consequences for providing slum-level accommodations at East Legon-level prices.

This is not just unfair, it is exploitative. It shows that in Ghana today, the rental market has no conscience. And worse, no regulation that bites. We’ve built a housing culture where the amount you pay is not tied to the quality you receive, but to the desperation you feel. And in that environment, the poor are not just suffering, they are being punished.

And where is the Rent Control Department in all of this?

Ah, Rent Control, the institution that exists in name but has no teeth, no bark, no bite. The law, as it exists, says landlords are not allowed to charge more than six months’ advance. But walk through any compound house, any chamber-and-hall in Osu, Adenta, Dome, Kasoa, Fiapre, Patasi, or Tamale, and tell me how many landlords respect this law. None. And yet the law is still on the books. What is the purpose of a law that is widely flouted and never enforced? What is the point of having a Rent Control Office if it is reduced to begging landlords to be reasonable rather than enforcing the law?

Fellow Ghanaians, the rent situation in this country is not a market problem; it is a moral failure and a regulatory scandal.

We have created a housing economy that punishes the poor and protects the powerful. The result? A city like Accra, where young people live ten in a room, where others commute three hours each day because they cannot afford to live anywhere near their workplace, and where people spend over 60% of their income just to keep a roof over their heads.

And then, just to compound the madness, you take a drive through Cantonments, Airport Residential, Trasacco, Ridge, and East Legon Hills, and what do you see? Empty houses. Huge, walled, multi-storey mansions standing idle and lifeless, no tenants, no families, just silence and an occasional guard dog. Who owns these homes? Why are they not occupied? Who builds property in the middle of a housing crisis and refuses to rent it out or sell it at reasonable prices?

Some say it’s a matter of taste, others say it’s for prestige. But increasingly, many are whispering what others dare not say publicly: Is this a case of money laundering? Is Ghana’s real estate market becoming a parking lot for illicit wealth? Is that why some of these homes are never lived in, never listed, never touched, just built, locked, and forgotten?

Let the question hang.

But while we wait for answers, we must confront another painful truth: our so-called affordable housing schemes have failed, spectacularly.

Over the years, government after government has promised to deliver thousands of housing units for low- and middle-income Ghanaians. Names change, slogans evolve, but the story remains the same. Either the houses are never built at all, or when they are, the pricing is so ridiculous that the very people they were meant for can’t even afford the gate fee. How can you call a two-bedroom apartment “affordable” when it’s selling for GHS 450,000? Affordable for whom? For public sector workers? For teachers? For nurses? For new graduates?

And when the houses are not overpriced, they are embroiled in corruption, stalled construction, missing funds, poor-quality finishes, and endless litigation. From Saglemi to Borteyman to Asokore Mampong, we’ve seen scandal after scandal, audit after audit, excuse after excuse, but never justice, never completion, and never real relief for those who need homes the most.

The truth, Fellow Ghanaians, is that housing has become the new frontier of inequality in this country. It is no longer just about shelter; it is now a symbol of social status, political power, and economic divide. If you can’t pay two years’ rent in advance, you are invisible. If you can’t afford a $150,000 home and more, you are unworthy. If you’re poor or middle-class, the system does not want you to live in comfort. It wants you to survive, barely.

But what are we doing about it?

Rent Control is sleeping. The Ministry of Works and Housing is silent. Parliament has failed to pass meaningful reforms. And the private sector is left to run riot, setting prices, setting terms, and kicking out tenants at will. No rent ceilings. No tax incentives for landlords who rent affordably. No enforcement of tenant rights. Just chaos and silence.

And let’s not forget: a housing crisis is not just a social issue, it is an economic emergency. When people spend most of their income on rent, they save less, invest less, and consume less. Productivity drops. Credit becomes inaccessible. Stress increases. Health deteriorates. And hope begins to die. How can a young person build a future if they’re working just to keep a ceiling over their head? How can families plan for tomorrow if today’s rent might kick them out tonight?

We must begin to treat this as the national emergency it is.

Immediately, the Rent Control law must be updated and enforced. Six-month advance must be the rule, not the exception, and landlords who violate it must face actual, tangible penalties, not lectures. The Rent Control Department must be empowered with a clear mandate, funding, and authority to act. Landlords must be registered. Tenants must have contracts. And the entire rental market must be monitored, not left to chance and cruelty.

Then, we need to audit and tax empty homes in prime areas. If you can afford to keep a house empty for years, then you can afford to pay an idle property tax. That is how real cities discourage hoarding and speculation.

We must also rethink affordable housing completely. The government should focus less on building mega estates that never finish, and more on public-private partnerships that deliver modest, decent homes at real market-aligned prices. Target the teachers. Target the nurses. Target the first-time buyer. That’s how we restore dignity.

And then, rent-to-own schemes must be scaled, not just piloted. People should not have to choose between renting forever or borrowing the equivalent of five decades’ income. There is a middle path, but it requires creativity, willpower, and a government that listens more than it lectures.

Fellow Ghanaians,

We deserve better than this. We deserve to live in a Ghana where housing is not a luxury, but a right. Where you don’t have to beg a landlord to accept 1 1-year advance instead of two. Where your salary does not vanish into someone’s back pocket every January. Where home ownership is not a dream only achievable through a political appointment or foreign remittances.

Let us stop pretending that the housing crisis will fix itself. Let us confront it. Boldly. With legislation. With justice. With creativity. And above all, with heart.

Until then, we are building a country where the walls are high, but the people are homeless.

I’ll see you again tomorrow.

Good morning.

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