It is now widely accepted that African countries, like those in the West, the Gulf, and Asia, cannot solve their developmental challenges without strong collaboration with a robust and resilient private sector.
Globally, entrepreneurs create jobs, finance infrastructure through taxes and fees, and deliver practical solutions to local problems. Yet in many African countries, private sector development has mostly benefited privileged foreign firms, often backed by their home governments, while local entrepreneurs struggle with limited support, unfair competition, and regulatory hostility.
In some cases, governments turn openly against their own businesspeople in a sad spectacle that has almost become normalised in our country.
More heartbreaking is the basis for these hostilities. They are often rooted in suspicions of political differences and ties to adversaries, resulting in years of effort and promising ideas being crushed through the state’s immense power. In every practical sense, I have sadly lived this experience in recent years.
For those who know me, it is clear I did not begin my business journey in cozy offices. For brevity, it is fair to say I started in the bustling Nima Market in Accra, trading rice, sugar, and cooking oil, during which I played every role necessary to sustain the business. I offloaded rice, helped manually transport goods to market women traders—some of whom still remember and jokingly refer to those days—and also acted as accountant, driver, and CEO all at once.
Back then, I was simply an ordinary person trading ordinary goods for ordinary people. Those early years shaped my outlook, which, as you will see later, proved valuable when adversity struck about nine years ago.
From Opportunity to Ambition
Trade teaches discipline in ways life and classrooms sometimes cannot. It teaches money management, trust, and resilience. From Nima Market, opportunity grew into ambition, strengthening my belief that indigenous resources, if properly managed, could build institutions that outlast individuals.
With the support of committed partners, that belief and ambition began to translate into investments across media, finance, education, manufacturing, and services. Each business created jobs for our compatriots, helping families escape unemployment and giving them hope. Taxes were paid, and expansion plans were drawn.
Burning My Dreams
By 2015–2017, growth felt natural, if not inevitable. Like many Ghanaians who care deeply about their country, I believed that operating within the law, strengthening governance, and committing capital locally were enough to guarantee protection and continuity.
Time proved me completely wrong.
From 2017 through 2024, my businesses entered a prolonged period of contraction. Growth stalled, operations weakened, and we were forced to shift from expansion to survival. Over time, financial losses turned into the painful experience of watching years of disciplined effort, sweat, and dreams crumble under sudden and overwhelming forces.
One moment captured the cruelty of that period: Class FM, part of a media platform that sustained multiple stations and dozens of livelihoods, was destroyed by fire.
Reflecting on that incident now, I feel it was more than a building that burned. It was an attempt to silence a voice, destroy trust, and erase the journey and dreams of a humble boy from the dusty landscapes of the Upper East Region.
Separately, I was subjected to prolonged prosecution and persecution. For nearly eight years, my life revolved around the courtroom. From Monday to Friday, I reported to court from 8 a.m. until sunset, under constant threat of warrants if I failed to appear. My entrepreneurial journey—which required presence and leadership—was replaced by legal survival, ultimately weakening my businesses.
Heritage Bank’s Takedown
There was also the collapse of Heritage Bank Limited, perhaps the most significant event for many readers.
Heritage was a licensed, operational bank with staff, depositors, assets, and obligations, led by experienced professionals. The venerable Prof. Kwesi Botchwey served as Chairman, bringing his extensive experience as a former Finance Minister, among other roles.
The bank was solvent and resilient, as confirmed by Bank of Ghana reports, and plans were underway to transform it into a technology-driven, consumer-centred institution. Then, unexpectedly, the Bank of Ghana revoked its license, shocking us and many fair-minded observers. Meanwhile, other indigenous banks in distress were supported to recover or guided through mergers.
The “Not Fit and Proper” Label
In revoking Heritage’s license, the Bank of Ghana designated me as “not fit and proper,” in what I believe was an attempt to justify a targeted decision.
That label had far-reaching consequences. Banks immediately closed my personal and corporate accounts, effectively locking me out of the formal financial system—the very structure I had sought to strengthen. With a single regulatory action, I was rendered financially excluded, unable to transact or operate as a normal businessperson.
The label quickly spread beyond banking. Company registrations were blocked on alleged non-compliance grounds, and opening new bank accounts became impossible. In official circles, I was increasingly portrayed not as an entrepreneur in distress, but as a risk—someone deemed a danger to the very financial sector I had worked to build.
Inequality in Business
Heritage’s assets were later auctioned, and properties—including fully equipped branches worth millions of cedis—were abandoned. Some of these buildings remain vacant and deteriorating, standing as silent monuments to how politics can destroy value rather than preserve it.
From my perspective, the treatment felt unequal. As I have said before, when inequality enters regulation, confidence exits the system.
What is often missing in discussions about business failure is the human cost. Businesses are not abstract entities; they are made up of people—workers whose hopes and dreams depend on their survival. When businesses collapse, lives are disrupted, and those affected are left hoping for a miracle.
Lessons and Picking Up the Pieces
For seven years, I watched people who trusted my leadership struggle with uncertainty they did not create. That burden remains and can be deeply haunting.
But it also teaches valuable lessons. I learned that optimism cannot replace sustainability, and that legality and compliance alone do not guarantee protection in our environment. For indigenous businesses, rules may exist, but their application can be selective. I also learned that resilience is not about quick recovery, but about enduring hardship without abandoning one’s values and long-term goals.
To young entrepreneurs, I offer this advice: build with resilience, not bravado. Document everything and prepare emotionally for setbacks, because in our environment, shocks often come without warning.
To the political class, business has no party affiliation. When companies collapse, families face the possibility of going without food, essential medicine, and education for their children—the very future of Ghana.
Despite everything, I do not regret building. I only regret the innocence with which I believed that good faith would always be reciprocated.
This is not written in anger. It is written in reflection on a system that sometimes suppresses ideas instead of supporting them, which should be the primary responsibility of any government.
Like air, life’s roles may fade, but the consequences of our actions endure. Power must be exercised with discretion and a firm commitment to the true interests of the state.
If there is one message for policymakers from my experience, it is this: business confidence is fragile. Indigenous enterprise must not become collateral damage in the exercise of authority.
When one business is unfairly weakened, many young people begin to question whether they should stay or risk becoming the next victims.
Fortunately, I am still standing, still believing in Ghana, and still hopeful about picking up the pieces.
The writer is a businessman and philanthropist.
Source: By Alhaji Seidu Agongo
