— A Satirical Reflection on Ghana’s Road Toll Resurrection

It all began with the gospel according to St. Bawumia, Chapter One, Verse One:

“In the beginning was the Ghana Card, and the Ghana Card was with the people, and the people knew it not.”

They laughed.
They scoffed.
They tweeted with more confusion than a goat on astroturf.
But lo and behold, from the political wilderness of opposition cometh one John the Digital Baptist—His Excellency John Dramani Mahama—proclaiming boldly:

"Every car is linked to the owner’s Ghana Card… cross the East Legon bridge, and we simply take a picture of your car. The toll charge goes straight to your MoMo or bank account. Just pay 1 cedi.”

Suddenly, the same Ghana Card that once took the punches of political ridicule has been baptized afresh—this time in the digital waters of the East Legon Bridge.

Ghana Card Resurrection: Credit Where Credit Is Juicy

Social media did not disappoint.
One digital disciple exclaimed:

“Bawumia is a prophet! He said the Ghana Card was more important than interchanges, and now his enemies are laying it at the altar of toll collection!”

Another added, with a splash of sarcasm:

“Ghana, where even the vision of the blind is copied by the sighted.”

Indeed, the toll booth debate has become the latest episode in Ghana’s long-running series: ‘Politics of Petty & Poetic Justice.’

The Vision—and the “Revision”

The emerging plan, as envisioned by Mahama, is nothing short of science fiction dipped in kelewele oil. A digital sticker, synced with your Ghana Card and bank account, will sit gallantly on your windshield. Each time you cross a designated toll zone, a camera captures the sticker and quietly deducts GHS1 from your wallet.

No stopping.
No arguing with toll collectors.
Just “ka-ching!” and you move.

Some call it innovation. Others call it creative plagiarism. But as the elders say, “If the chicken lays golden eggs, who cares if it came from the neighbour’s coop?”

Visionaries vs. Revisionaries

This isn’t just about toll booths; it’s a battle for digital bragging rights.
One side shouts, “We saw it first!”
The other retorts, “We’re doing it better!”
Meanwhile, the average Ghanaian motorist—still dodging potholes deeper than political promises—just wants to get home with their shock absorbers intact.
As our forebears put it, “Even the fowl must thank the hawk if it teaches it to fly higher.”

If Mahama’s new road toll strategy is riding on Bawumia’s digital wave, let the nation benefit. Let the camera click and the cedi slip—so long as the roads don’t strip our vehicles bare.

From Kenkey to Card: Ghana’s Hypocrisy Parade

And then came the comments:

“So Ghana Card is not a waste anymore? Kenkey is no longer our priority? Now we agree it’s better than interchanges?”

Another netizen dropped this spicy bit:

“This is unity in irony. The NDC walks in NPP’s digital sandals, and both pretend it’s Italian leather.”

Ah, Ghana. Where policy resurrection is more dramatic than a Kumawood courtroom scene.

Conclusion: A Nation on Toll Control

In the end, the toll saga is a metaphor for our republic:
Everyone wants to drive, few want to pay, and nobody wants to fix the brakes.
But if we must go digital, then let’s go all in. Let every toll booth become a data hub. Let potholes be geo-tagged. And let our leaders stop borrowing each other’s speeches like borrowed Kente at a weekend funeral.

Because in this republic of recycled rhetoric and rebranded reforms, we know one thing for sure:

A bad road does not care who made the asphalt speech.

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The writer, Jimmy Aglah, is a media executive, author, and sharp-eyed social commentator. His debut novel, Blood and Gold: The Rebellion of Sikakrom, now available on Amazon Kindle, explores power, rebellion, and the soul of a nation. When he’s not steering broadcast operations, he’s busy challenging conventions—often with satire, always with purpose.