One of the cruelest ironies of our story is this:
Instead of demanding better, we defend failure.
In the North—and across much of Ghana—our roads are not just rough; they are reflections. Reflections of how long we’ve waited. How low we’ve settled. How deeply we’ve been ignored.
Yet instead of raising our voices, we raise party flags.
The Tamale–Wa road didn’t break in a day.
It didn’t collapse in one term.
It has been crumbling for decades—one government at a time.
Each new administration comes with shiny boots and groundbreaking ceremonies.
They cut ribbons with scissors sharper than their intentions.
They take photos.
They smile.
Then they disappear.
And the road stays broken—like the promises made on it.
Why?
Because here, development is not a duty—it’s a transaction.
It’s not about people; it’s about power.
It’s not about needs; it’s about numbers.
They don’t build because it’s right.
They build because they want votes.
And if you don’t vote “well,” they leave you behind.
That shouldn’t be normal.
But it is.
And the saddest part?
We play along.
We’ve become foot soldiers for people who wouldn’t last one trip on our roads.
We campaign with passion for those who sit in convoys and fly over our pain.
We defend them—not because they delivered—but because they wear our colors.
They speak our dialect.
They’re “our people.”
We wear party loyalty like a second skin, tighter than our national conscience.
And in the process, we forget:
A pothole doesn’t care about your party card.
A broken bridge doesn’t check your tribal surname before collapsing.
A stranded bus doesn’t ask, “Did you vote NPP or NDC?” before the engine fails at midnight.
Still, we stay divided.
Red versus blue.
Us versus them.
Loyalty over logic.
So instead of pressure, we give praise.
Instead of protests, we post party slogans.
Instead of demands, we dance at rallies.
And what do we get?
The same roads.
The same stories.
The same suffering.
Dressed in new manifestos.
If we don’t rise above the jerseys—if we don’t put people before politics—we will remain in this cycle.
Campaign season after campaign season.
Pothole after pothole.
Excuse after excuse.
And so again, I ask—because we must keep asking:
Na who cause am?
Is it the politicians who use development as bait?
Or is it we the people, who confuse loyalty with blindness?
Because until we answer that honestly,
We will keep cheering in circles,
And sinking in the same holes.
Up next: Part Five – “The North is Not Alone: A National Crisis in Disguise”
#Puobabangna
(The Northern Roads, the Shaky Buses, and the Deafening Silence)
By Victor Raul Puobabangna from Eggu, in the Upper West Region of Ghana
