Armed Highway Robbery on the Kasoa–Winneba Route: A Road We All Fear
A few years ago, I stumbled into a situation I never saw coming. I was heading back from Cape Coast with a few friends after a beach trip that had turned into one of those long, laughter-filled days that leave you sunburned and full of roasted plantain. It was late — too late, honestly — and somewhere between Kasoa and Winneba, the music in our car cut out. Just static. Then came the brake lights ahead. Lots of them. We thought it was traffic. It wasn’t.
Now, to be clear — we didn’t get robbed that night. But we came close. We saw shadows moving in the bush. Heard shouting. One guy in another car, a few vehicles ahead, swerved off the road into the grass just to escape. I still remember the weird silence that fell over us. Not the silence of peace — the kind that makes your heart slam against your ribs like it’s trying to escape too.
That route? It’s infamous now. The Kasoa–Winneba stretch — especially at night — feels more like a gamble than a drive. And I hate that we’ve gotten used to it. Like, how did we get here?
I’ve seen videos online (the ones people share with that cold, sinking tone in their captions), showing drivers lying face-down on the asphalt, their cars emptied out, the kind of scenes that stick with you even after you scroll past. Some folks even say they expect to be attacked at some point — as if it’s a rite of passage now. Imagine normalizing that.
Here’s what makes it worse: this is a major route. We’re not talking some off-grid back road. Families use this highway. Traders. Students. Workers trying to get home. It’s like the lifeline between Accra and parts of the Central Region. And still, armed gangs manage to set up blockades, rob passengers at gunpoint, and disappear into the night like phantoms. Every time it happens, there’s outrage… then quiet. Rinse and repeat.
I might be wrong, but it feels like we’ve fallen into a pattern of reacting instead of preventing. More patrols after a robbery. Temporary checkpoints after the fact. It’s like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted (and the horse probably got robbed too).
And honestly, it messes with your sense of safety. I’ve found myself checking the time obsessively before leaving Cape Coast, trying to “beat the danger window.” As if the sun going down is some kind of countdown to chaos. That shouldn’t be normal.
But here's the real kicker: we talk about development, tourism, and attracting investment — and then allow this kind of insecurity to fester on one of our key highways? It’s like polishing the front of the house while the back is on fire.
I don’t claim to have all the answers. Maybe it's more community watch programs, maybe better lighting, maybe — just maybe — real consequences for the people behind these attacks. But more than anything, we need to stop shrugging our shoulders like this is just how things are now.
Because someday, it might not just be a close call. It might be your sister, your dad, your favorite auntie on that road. Or you.
And if that happens… what will we say then? Just another headline? Just another “Kasoa–Winneba route incident”? Or will we finally decide this can’t be the norm?
Honestly, I don’t know. But I do know this: no road in this country should feel like a trap. Especially not one we all rely on.
Have you ever driven a road that made you feel like you were being hunted? If so… why are we okay with that?
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