For 32-year-old market trader Edna Ayittey, the memory is still painful. Two men in neatly pressed white shirts approached her stall in Accra, flashe
For 32-year-old market trader Edna Ayittey, the memory is still painful. Two men in neatly pressed white shirts approached her stall in Accra, flashed what appeared to be official documents, and accused her of violating market licensing rules. They demanded an immediate cash payment.
Fearing she could lose her stall, Ayittey handed over her entire day’s earnings in exchange for what looked like an official stamped receipt. Weeks later, she discovered the receipt was fake.
“We thought we were paying our taxes to support the country,” she told The Fourth Estate. “But it turned out we were only feeding somebody’s pocket.”
Ayittey’s ordeal is far from isolated. Between late 2022 and 2023, dozens of hawkers and small shop owners across Accra were defrauded by men posing as municipal revenue officers. Often escorted by armed guards, these impostors demanded cash payments, issued forged receipts, and vanished.
What may seem like a minor scam is, in reality, a deep-seated revenue leak. Traders, auditors, and local officials describe an entrenched racket that has quietly siphoned public funds for years.
At Agbogbloshie Market, the clamor of trade is constant — tomato sellers shouting prices, the smoky scent of grilled fish filling the air, and porters balancing towering loads through crowded lanes. Amid the noise, one trader whispered:
“These scams aren’t old stories — they’re happening every week in different markets,” she said, requesting anonymity for fear of reprisal.
The Accra Metropolitan Assembly (AMA) admitted as far back as 2018 that counterfeit tickets were circulating after furious vendors presented fake receipts to radio stations.
In one case, internal auditors caught two revenue collectors using counterfeit ticket books with identical serial numbers in separate markets. They pocketed ₵500 before being caught.
“If just ₵500 was taken in one incident, imagine how much could be lost if this happens daily across dozens of markets,” said a trader at Madina Market.
Many victims, fearing intimidation or confiscation of their goods, have chosen silence.
At Kaneshie, a food vendor spoke softly as she served customers. “Just last month, I lost money to men who said they were from the Assembly. We are scared to talk.”
And at Dome, where heavy rains flood the alleys and traders crouch under makeshift tarpaulins to keep their goods dry, another stall owner recalled:
“Last year, I paid ₵30. The only receipt they gave me was a plain sheet of paper with the amount scribbled on it.”