At dawn in Kumasi’s Kejetia Market, Ama Serwah rearranges her stall of maize and cassava, her fingers brushing over grains that have doubled in price since January.
By midday, she’ll halve her portions to keep customers—a survival tactic echoing across Ghana’s bustling food hubs. But behind the haggling and hurried transactions, a deeper crisis simmers: skyrocketing food inflation is gutting small businesses and rewriting menus in homes nationwide.
Ghana’s food inflation, now hovering at 32% year-on-year, isn’t just a statistic—it’s a slow bleed. Maize, a dietary cornerstone, costs 27% more than in 2020, while wheat prices have turned staples like bread into luxuries. A loaf that once sold for GH¢10 now demands GH¢15, forcing bakeries into a grim calculus: raise prices, shrink sizes, or shut down. For street vendors like Serwah, profit margins have evaporated. “I sell kenkey [fermented corn dough] for the same price but use half the maize,” she admits. “People notice it’s smaller, but what choice do I have?”
The crisis isn’t confined to market stalls. Fast-food joints in Accra are swapping wheat flour for cassava blends, while restaurants quietly downgrade cooking oil quality to stay afloat. These cuts carry hidden costs: nutrition declines, foodborne illnesses rise, and trust in small businesses erodes. Meanwhile, global commodity shifts offer little relief. While the UN’s Agricultural Market Information System reports a dip in wheat and rice prices, maize has hit a 15-month high—a blow to Ghana’s import-reliant food chain.
Numbers paint a dire mosaic. The World Bank estimates 50 million West Africans face acute food insecurity, with Ghana wedged between climate shocks and a funding drought. Only 3% of global development aid targets food systems, per a 2024 Financing Flows report, leaving initiatives like Ghana’s Planting for Food and Jobs (PFJ) gasping for resources. Launched to boost local farming, PFJ battles smuggling, delayed subsidies, and patchy infrastructure. “We’re planting more but harvesting less,” laments Kofi Mensah, a corn farmer in Bono East. “Without fertilizers on time, the yields don’t add up.”
Paradoxes abound. Global rice prices fell 10% this year, yet Ghanaian imports remain 14% pricier than pre-pandemic levels—a testament to snarled ports and import taxes. Families now pivot to cassava and yam, but these staples lack the shelf life or scalability to offset reliance on foreign grains.
Government assurances ring hollow for many. At a recent press briefing, Agriculture Minister Owusu Afriyie Akoto praised PFJ’s “steady progress,” but traders counter with empty stalls and unpaid loans. “They say ‘grow local,’ but who buys my maize when imported rice is cheaper?” asks Serwah.
Ghana’s food crisis is a tangle of global markets and homegrown gaps. While PFJ’s vision is sound, execution falters under underfunding and graft. The real fix? A dual overhaul: slashing red tape for imports while turbocharging local agro-industries with cold storage and processing hubs. Until then, the silent hunger—for affordable meals, thriving businesses, and policy action—will gnaw deeper. As Serwah says, “Empty pots cook no stories.” The clock ticks louder with each shriveled maize sack.
