Agradaa with her husband, Osofo AsiamaIn the annals of Ghanaian spiritual history, few names provoke as much controversy, curiosity, and condemnation as Patricia Asiedua, popularly known as Nana Agradaa. From her days as a feared fetish priestess promoting money-doubling rituals on television to her dramatic pivot as a born-again Christian evangelist, and now as a convicted fraudster sentenced to 15 years in prison, her story is both an exposé of personal ambition and a reflection of broader societal vulnerabilities.
Agradaa’s journey is not merely one of personal transformation or religious reinvention. It is a cautionary tale about the weaponization of belief, the fragility of regulatory systems, and the faith-industrial complex that continues to flourish in Ghana and across West Africa.
I. Shrine and Screens: The Rise of Nana Agradaa
In the early 2010s, Nana Agradaa became a household name through her “Sika Gari” rituals—promising supernatural financial multiplication to desperate followers. Operating from her Sowutuom shrine in Accra, she strategically used television stations Thunder TV and Ice1 TV to advertise her services. She offered money-doubling miracles in exchange for cash offerings, claiming spiritual power to lift people out of poverty.
But the signs of exploitation were apparent early on. In 2013, the Criminal Investigations Department (CID) arrested her after 35 individuals filed complaints, claiming they had been defrauded out of GH¢58,780. Though she escaped conviction, it foreshadowed the legal troubles to come.
Agradaa cultivated a celebrity-like mystique—embodying both reverence and fear. Her shrine became the epicenter of a deeply controversial spiritual economy, and her loyal followers treated her not just as a priestess, but as a miracle-worker. Even amid rising criticism from traditional authorities and civil society groups, she remained defiant, flaunting wealth, power, and immunity from consequence.
II. Conversion or Cover-Up? The Dramatic Shift to Evangelism
In April 2021, following the shutdown of her TV stations by the National Communications Authorityand her arrest for illegal broadcasting and charlatanic advertisement, Agradaa executed what would become one of the most dramatic spiritual pivots in Ghanaian history.
On April 29, 2021, surrounded by pastors, journalists, and her husband Pastor Eric Oduro Koranteng, she publicly burned her idols and shrine artifacts. She declared her conversion to Christianity, stating:
“Jesus saved me when I was in police custody. I made a vow to serve him.”
She rebranded herself as Evangelist Patricia Oduro Koranteng, later adopting the titles “Reverend Mama Pat” and founding the Heaven Way Champion International Ministry in Weija.
While some lauded her repentance, many—including the Coalition of Citizens for Justice and Accountability (CCJA)—viewed the transformation as a calculated attempt to evade accountability and erase her past. In fact, she was re-arrested shortly after her release on bail, reinforcing suspicions that the conversion was more about optics than atonement.
Nonetheless, her new church flourished. She maintained a massive following, capitalized on social media virality, and engaged in very public feuds with notable figures such as Apostle Dr. Isaac Owusu Bempah and gospel musician Joyce Blessing, whom she allegedly defamed.
III. The Scams Continue: The Heaven Way Money-Doubling Scandal
In October 2022, allegations emerged that Agradaa had resumed money-doubling schemes, this time under the guise of Christianity. She reportedly invited congregants to an all-night service at her church, promising that any offering made—often GH¢1,000 to GH¢2,000—would be divinely multiplied.
Over 1,000 people responded. When the promised “blessings” never arrived, the police arrested her again. One complainant, Prince Yeboah, told reporters:
“We were manipulated. She used Jesus to do what she once did with her gods.”
Charged with defrauding by false pretenses and charlatanic advertisement, she was remanded in custody, pleaded not guilty, and mounted a vigorous social media defense.
“These were offerings, not payments for miracles,” she claimed.
Meanwhile, religious regulatory bodies such as Rapha Faith Network eventually revoked her ordination in 2024 for “divorce, abuse, and misconduct”, citing her continuous violation of pastoral ethics.
IV. The Conviction: Justice or Overkill?
On July 3, 2025, the Accra Circuit Court delivered a landmark verdict. Presiding Judge Evelyn Asamoah found Agradaa guilty on multiple counts and sentenced her to 15 years in prison with hard labor. But before sentencing, the court ordered an unexpected pregnancy test, as Ghanaian law prohibits jailing pregnant women under such conditions.
Though she was not pregnant, the order caused a public stir. Critics accused the court of public humiliation and gender-based targeting. Others welcomed the move, viewing it as part of a careful due process.
Reactions to the sentence were polarized. Victims expressed relief, with one telling reporters:
“This wasn’t just money we lost. It was our faith, our trust, our dignity.”
Yet others—including religious commentators and social media influencers—argued the punishment was “excessive and vindictive”, especially given that some violent offenders serve far less time.
V. A Symbol of a Deeper Problem: Ghana’s Unregulated Spiritual Market
Nana Agradaa’s saga is emblematic of a larger, systemic problem—the rise of spiritual entrepreneurs operating unchecked under both traditional and Christian umbrellas. Ghana’s constitutional commitment to religious freedom has created fertile ground for self-styled prophets and priestesses to exploit the poor and desperate with impunity.
Despite occasional interventions by law enforcement and faith networks, the faith economy remains largely unregulated. From charging exorbitant fees for healing oils to promising visa miracles or marital breakthroughs, spiritual commodification is booming.
Agradaa’s case shines a spotlight on how performance, charisma, and media influence can override common sense and institutional safeguards. Her life blurred the line between ministry and manipulation, turning religion into both a business and a theater.
Conclusion: Conversion Without Contrition
From idols to indictment, Patricia Asiedua’s journey is a microcosm of how power, faith, and opportunism intersect in modern Ghana. Whether viewed as a charlatan, a clever survivor, or a product of broken systems, her story demands introspection.
Her 15-year sentence marks not just the downfall of a polarizing figure, but a moment of reckoning for a nation caught between spirituality and spectacle. It raises urgent questions:
• Who protects the faithful from the faith leaders?
• Should conversion erase accountability?
• And when does redemption become another disguise?
As Ghana confronts these questions, Agradaa’s story remains a living parable—a lesson in how belief, when unguarded, can become a weapon turned inward.
