“Just Tilapia?” — When a Simple Fish Becomes a Court Case
I remember one Sunday morning in Kasoa when my auntie Akos ran into our compound looking more frantic than usual. She wasn’t being chased. She wasn’t late for church. No—she’d just heard that Ma Aba, the calmest, kindest woman in our neighborhood market, had been arrested. For what? Stolen fish.
I’m not even kidding. Tilapia.
At first, we all laughed. “Ah, how can fish be stolen?” “Is this what Ghana has come to?” “So, now buying cheap tilapia can land you in court?”
But it wasn’t funny anymore when the story unfolded.
Apparently, two fishmongers—just regular women hustling to make ends meet—got hauled before the court for receiving stolen goods. The goods? Tilapia worth GH¢740.
Let me just pause here. GH¢740 worth of fish. That’s like… dinner for a couple of families. Or maybe a small business stock if you’re selling on the roadside. But jail time? Fines? Court appearances?
I don’t know about you, but I’ve bought secondhand clothes, phone chargers, tomatoes—without ever thinking to ask where they came from. (Because… do we really ask those questions at Kaneshie or Agbogbloshie?)
But here we are. These two women were found guilty of receiving stolen tilapia and fined GH¢1,200 each. And that’s after pleading guilty. If they couldn’t pay, they were going to serve time.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying crime is okay. Theft is theft. But it gets murky when the person on the receiving end didn’t know the stuff was stolen. Or didn’t ask because—let’s be honest—when you’re trying to survive, you don’t exactly conduct investigations.
I could be wrong, but it feels like there’s this growing trend in Ghana where the people at the very bottom are the ones who get punished the hardest. It’s easier to fine a market woman for stolen fish than to chase down the big men stealing millions in broad daylight, with full suits and smiles on live TV.
What struck me the most was how quiet the market got after the news spread. Everyone became suspicious of everyone. Traders were side-eying their suppliers, and customers were whispering about “not wanting court wahala.” And I thought—is this really how justice is supposed to feel? Like fear and confusion, more than fairness?
I don’t know. Maybe we should all be more cautious. Ask more questions. Demand receipts.
But how do you do that in a system where half of the economy is informal, and the other half is just… vibes?
Here’s what I’ve noticed lately: the justice system seems to flex its muscles more often on the powerless. It’s like the weight of the law is heaviest on those least equipped to carry it.
So yeah, two women got fined for stolen fish.
But maybe the real story isn’t the fish.
Maybe it’s about survival.
About who gets caught. And who doesn’t.
What if we lived in a country where a woman selling fish didn’t have to worry about going to jail because someone else brought her the wrong stock?
What if justice wasn’t just about who broke the rules, but why—and who really benefits when the punishment is served?
I don’t have the answers. But the next time you’re at the market haggling over prices, maybe just take a second look at that fish.
Not because it’s bad—but because somebody’s freedom might be riding on it.
-Keywords used naturally: fishmongers in court, stolen tilapia, receiving stolen goods, Ghana market crime, justice for poor in Ghana, informal market economy, small-scale traders, Kasoa news, tilapia fine, survival vs crime.
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