By Alolga Akata-Pore, Concerned Senior Citizen and Ex Soldier

When the Flowerpot Interchange in Accra was unveiled with great pomp and ceremony, it was hailed by the President and other leading NPP politicians as a landmark

achievement in urban modernization, promising to ease traffic congestion and improve mobility. Yet, instead of the headlines the government had envisioned, celebrating its functionality and progress, the interchange has become a glaring symbol of exclusion and inequity. It stands as a stark reminder of how the ‘nobility’ of society often disregard the struggles of the ‘plebs,’ with the plight of a young coconut seller igniting national

outrage and critical debates about the social costs of such grandiose development projects.

This young hawker, displaced during the construction phase of the interchange, returned to her spot soon after its completion, a quiet act of survival rather than

defiance. Her reappearance, however, was met with swift and harsh punishment. The Accra Regional Minister, reportedly upon hearing of her return, personally supervised the destruction of her wares in what can only be described as a spectacle of state power. The intention was clear, to deter others of her social class from following her example. But this act has raised profound questions about governance, equity, and the treatment of the most vulnerable in our society.

The Human Face of Urban Development

The young coconut seller’s story is emblematic of the daily struggles of countless

informal workers in Ghana, whose livelihoods depend on the streets and spaces often deemed undesirable or illegal by urban planners. For her, the Flowerpot Interchange represents not progress but displacement and economic hardship. Her return to the

spot is not an act of rebellion but a reflection of necessity; an attempt to earn a living in a system that offers little support to those at the margins.

Had she been a middle-class entrepreneur, perhaps selling smoothies or artisan

products from a branded kiosk, her treatment would have been vastly different. Instead of destruction, she might have been offered a prime location or even celebrated as an example of “modern entrepreneurship.” But as a poor, informal worker, her presence

was treated as a nuisance. The minister’s intervention framed her as if she were a

disease that needed to be eradicated to save lives, a cruel dehumanization that exposes the hypocrisy of our democratic governance.

From Military Impunity to Political Impunity

This incident draws uncomfortable parallels to Ghana’s history of governance under military rule, when the demolition of so-called illegal structures was met with

widespread condemnation as heavy-handed and authoritarian. Back then, these actions were seen as the unchecked impunity of military regimes, violating the rights of citizens with little regard for justice or due process.

Yet, in today’s democracy, we witness similar actions cloaked in the authority of elected officials. The destruction of the coconut seller’s wares is no different from the actions

decried under military regimes. It is emblematic of how the impunity of military rule has morphed into the impunity of ministers and politicians. The hypocrisy is palpable:

democracy, which ought to champion fairness, dialogue, and inclusion, is now enabling the same high-handedness once vilified in authoritarian times.

Impunity, whether exercised by soldiers or politicians, is a blight on governance and must be condemned without equivocation. A democracy that disregards the humanity of its poorest citizens cannot claim moral superiority over military rule.

Selective Enforcement and Double Standards

The minister’s actions also highlight the stark double standards in Ghana’s urban governance. When wealthy individuals erect illegal structures or encroach on public lands, enforcement is often delayed or entirely absent. Negotiations, legal battles, or

outright impunity protect the interests of the elite. Yet, when a poor coconut seller sets up her modest stall to earn a living, the full weight of the state comes crashing down on her.

This selective application of power is not only unjust but deeply corrosive to public trust in governance. It sends a clear message: in Ghana’s cities, the rights and dignity of the poor are expendable, sacrificed on the altar of an elitist vision of modernity.

Thinking New About Development: A People-Centred Approach

The Flowerpot Interchange could have been a symbol of inclusive progress, an

opportunity to integrate informal workers into the urban economy rather than exclude them. Imagine a development model where hawkers are not treated as nuisances but as integral stakeholders in the city’s fabric. Designated vending zones could have been incorporated into the interchange’s layout, allowing traders to operate safely without

obstructing traffic. Such an approach would reflect a commitment to equitable urban development.

As a schoolboy in the 1960s, I vividly recall how Kwame Nkrumah prioritized consulting those whose livelihoods would be affected by major development projects like the

Akosombo Dam and the urbanization of Bolgatanga as the capital of the then Upper Region. This hallmark of governance, respecting and engaging citizens as equal

stakeholders, defined Nkrumah’s leadership. He understood that development was not just about infrastructure but about uplifting the people it impacted. It is no surprise that no government since Nkrumah has been able to achieve even half the level of public approval and trust that he enjoyed.

Instead, the interchange has become a flashpoint for exclusion, its promise of progress overshadowed by the failure to address the realities of those it displaced. True

development must uplift everyone, not just the privileged few.

A Call to Reject Impunity and Embrace Equity

The plight of the young coconut seller is not an isolated incident; it is a reflection of the

systemic inequities that plague Ghanaian governance. The minister’s actions at the Flowerpot Interchange should serve as a wake-up call, reminding us that democracy is not just about elections but about justice, inclusion, and fairness.

As Ghanaians, we must demand an end to the impunity that crushes the livelihoods of the vulnerable while protecting the powerful. Whether under military rule or democracy, the abuse of power is a betrayal of the social contract. It is time for our leaders to adopt a governance model that prioritizes people over appearances, dialogue over

destruction, and equity over exclusion.

The Flowerpot Interchange must not stand as a monument to exclusion and hypocrisy.

Instead, it should serve as a catalyst for a broader conversation about the kind of society we aspire to build: a society where the dignity and humanity of every citizen,

from hawkers to middle-class entrepreneurs, are equally respected and upheld. Only when development includes everyone can we truly claim to be making progress as a nation. Only then can ordinary citizens see participation in elections as a civic duty worth their time and faith, knowing their voices will be heard and their livelihoods

protected.

Conclusion

The story of the young coconut seller at the Flowerpot Interchange is more than a tale of individual hardship; it is a reflection of systemic issues in Ghana’s approach to

governance and development. As a nation, we must recognize that progress cannot come at the expense of the marginalized, nor can democracy thrive when the poor are alienated and excluded.

To move forward, we must demand a governance model that prioritizes fairness,

inclusion, and dialogue. Policies must ensure that all citizens, especially the vulnerable, have a seat at the table in shaping their communities and livelihoods. The Flowerpot Interchange offers a critical lesson: development is not just about building roads and bridges; it is about building a society that values and uplifts every citizen. Only by embracing this principle can Ghana achieve true progress and fulfill the promise of democracy for all