President John Mahama marked Ghana’s Independence Day not with celebratory fanfare, but with a somber visit to Ketu South’s ravaged coastline, where tidal waves have reduced homes to rubble, uprooted graves, and left livelihoods hanging by a thread.
The trip underscored a harsh reality: a decade after his administration launched a critical sea defense initiative, stalled progress has left thousands exposed to nature’s wrath.
In 2015, Phase I of the Sea Defense Project fortified stretches from Havedzie to Agavedzi, transforming once-vulnerable villages into shielded communities. Satellite imagery reviewed by News Ghana confirms these areas now stand intact amid relentless waves—a testament to the project’s efficacy. Yet Phase II, designed to protect Agavedzi, Salakope, and Adina, has languished for six years, trapped in bureaucratic limbo under successive governments.
The consequences are stark. Last week’s tidal surge collapsed houses, flooded schools, and gnawed at the only road linking Anloga to Denu—a lifeline for trade and travel. “If the sea takes this road, it won’t just isolate us. It will erase us,” said Kofi Ahiagbe, a fisherman in Agavedzi, standing where his home once stood. Traditional leaders echo the desperation. Torgbui Adamah III, Paramount Chief of the Some Traditional Area, implored Mahama to treat the crisis as a national emergency: “Resume Phase II now. In two years, there may be nothing left to save.”
Behind the urgency lies a funding dilemma. While the World Bank’s West Africa Coastal Areas (WACA) program promises long-term support, locals argue delays for bureaucratic approvals could be fatal. Officials close to the discussions reveal pressure to fast-track Phase II using domestic funds, with hopes of later reimbursement. “Waiting for external aid while communities drown isn’t an option,” a regional planner anonymously noted.
Volta Regional Minister James Gunu’s declaration of a state of emergency and distribution of relief supplies offered temporary respite, but residents demand permanence over palliatives. Historical parallels haunt them: a 1926 photo of Keta, once a bustling port, shows a coastline now largely swallowed by the sea. Without intervention, fears grow that Adina and Salakope could vanish like Keta’s neighborhoods.
As Mahama assessed the damage, the visit became a political litmus test. Critics accuse past administrations of “project amnesia,” abandoning infrastructure initiatives with each electoral cycle. Phase II’s blueprints, dusted off annually during tidal disasters, symbolize a broader pattern of deferred responsibility.
Yet the solution, experts argue, lies in continuity, not politics. “Sea defenses don’t belong to parties; they belong to the people,” remarked Editor-in-Chief of News Ghana Roger A. Agana. “Phase I worked. Replicate it—before the waves write Ghana’s obituary for these towns.”
With the Atlantic’s roar as a backdrop, Mahama’s pledge to revive Phase II resonated, but skepticism lingers. For Ketu South’s residents, independence now hinges on one question: Will their government finally stem the tide, or let history’s waves wash them away?
