RICHNESS the WRITER

By Richard Agodzo Ama was in her second year at a senior high school in Accra when she first heard that condoms had “holes designed to fail.” A classmate swore her cousin got pregnant because “condoms don’t work,” while another insisted condoms were “only for promiscuous people.” By the time a health NGO visited their school to speak about HIV prevention, the myths had already travelled faster than the truth, circulating in dormitories, whispered in classrooms, and amplified through WhatsApp voice notes and TikTok commentary. When the facilitators finished their session, students asked bold questions, but no condoms were distributed. “ GES policy ,” a teacher quietly explained. On International Condom Day, we must confront this uncomfortable reality: Ghanaian youth are digitally connected, socially aware, and sexually active, yet many are navigating misinformation without practical tools for protection. Ghana’s New HIV Infections: A Youth Reality According to the Ghana AIDS Commission ...

By Richard Agodzo  The other day, a friend posted a picture of her hospital wristband with the caption: “We thank God for life.” Minutes later, another friend uploaded a screenshot of his bank alert showing a new job and a new salary. Then someone else shared a location tag: “Chilling at Labadi Beach.” Scrolling through it all, I caught myself wondering: Is everything meant to be on social media? Our successes, our sorrows, our private moments, even our live locations. Must they all live on our timelines and statuses? Social media has become Ghana’s virtual town square, the place where we celebrate, mourn, vent, announce, and perform. From TikTok dances to “soft life” posts to tributes and testimonies, it sometimes feels like we live for the next post. However, the truth is that not everything needs to be shared. While sharing can connect us, oversharing can expose us emotionally, socially, and even physically. Among Ghanaian youth today, there’s a growing unease. We are connected ...

By Richard Agodzo In 2024, headlines across Ghana revealed a crisis that should never happen in a public health system committed to saving lives: 182 containers of medical supplies were stranded at the Tema Port, many of them carrying life‑saving antiretroviral medicines (ARVs). What followed was not just a logistical failure; it became a lived crisis for persons living with HIV (PLHIVs) across the country. When bureaucracy becomes a health emergency As the containers sat at the port, communities began to feel the impact almost immediately. Health facilities in several regions reported drug rationing, forcing patients to receive shorter refills or switch regimens unnecessarily. For a treatment that depends on strict adherence, even short disruptions carry serious risks. “I went to the clinic and was told to return in two weeks instead of my usual three months. I was scared. HIV does not wait for paperwork,” a 29‑year‑old woman living with HIV in Greater Accra shared. The delay did more...

By Richard Agodzo As World AIDS Day approaches, the annual themes that once rallied governments, communities and funders now read like a timeline of hope we risk losing. From “Getting to Zero” years to 2024’s human-rights call to “Take the Rights Path,” global messaging has been clear: end AIDS through justice, community leadership and sustained services. Yet between those slogans and life on the ground in Ghana, there is an increasingly dangerous gap — one made wider by funding cuts, interrupted supply chains and deepening stigma, including a new, corrosive online stigma facing young people living with HIV. - UNAIDS What the recent themes ask of us — and why Ghana’s record matters World AIDS Day themes urge countries to prioritise rights, communities, and resilience. In 2024, the global call was explicit: 'Take The Rights Path' — put human rights at the centre of prevention, treatment and stigma elimination. In 2025, the global message turned to resilience: “Overcoming disrupt...

By Richard Agodzo I still remember that Tuesday afternoon vividly. The sun was fierce, and I had just stopped by a kiosk to send some money. There he was — Desmond — the young man who once came to me years ago, asking if I had old textbooks he could use for school. I had watched him grow from a quiet primary school boy into a determined senior high graduate. Now, he was running his own small mobile money business, his smile as warm as ever. We exchanged greetings, and I promised to check in another time. Two days later, the news hit me like thunder — Desmond had been shot and killed by armed robbers on his way home from work. His crime? Simply trying to earn an honest living, facilitating the cashless dreams of a digital Ghana. Desmond’s death is not an isolated tragedy . It is a reflection of the darker side of Ghana’s rapidly expanding mobile money ecosystem — one plagued by fraud, identity theft, insider data leaks, and security loopholes that have turned convenience into vulnerabil...

By Richard Agodzo Before their voices are even heard, they are silenced. Before they dream, their futures are written for them. In Ghana’s Northern Region, too many girls are married off before they are 18, and the women they grow into are later cast away, labelled witches, and forced to die in isolation. This is the brutal, cyclical violence no one talks about — and it must end. In the dry, dusty villages of Northern Ghana, a quiet injustice unfolds daily — invisible to many, yet devastating to generations of women. Gambaga witches camp in the Northern Region of Ghana Girls as young as 12 are removed from school, handed to older men in exchange for bride prices or to ease a family's financial burden. Their lives become a series of burdens: childbirth before adulthood, unpaid domestic labour, and the trauma of leaving behind their childhood dreams. “I was married off to a man older than my father,” shares a 16-year-old girl from Yendi. “I wanted to be a teacher, but now I’m a wife...