Osu Beach – A Treasure Turned Trash Dump

By Jasmine Zahabi

The beach behind the Christianborg Castle and Black Star Square in Osu.

During a recent visit to the beach behind the Christianborg Castle in Osu, we were confronted with a heartbreaking sight, a dead sea turtle, tangled in plastic, washed ashore.

It was a stark and gut-wrenching reminder of the pollution suffocating this once-vibrant shoreline. 

The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the beach, once filled with laughter and life, now lay eerily silent.

Dead sea turtle tangled in plastic on the beach behind the Christianborg Castle

We spoke to residents, their voices thick with frustration and despair, about the waste collectors who use tricycles, commonly known as “aboboyaa borla cars.”

The tricycles, commonly known as “aboboyaa borla cars.”

“Most of these ‘aboboyaa’ waste trucks dump their waste into drains and gutters, which get swept into the ocean when it rains,” one resident said, “They don’t care about our health or safety."

Mama Adjorkor, a resident nearby, angrily said in Ga, "You can't even swim here anymore! The beach smells terrible, with rubbish and waste openly dumped; If authorities don't act soon, it will worsen, and we'll all get sick or die."

Her words hung in the air like a plea for help, a call that demanded immediate action.

Fishermen we met also shared their struggles, one held up a net filled with plastics and all sorts of rubbish, and said, “We used to catch fish to feed our families, but now we pull in more plastic and other trash than fish—how are we supposed to survive?”

To drive home their point, they took us to a nearby dump site where they have been forced to pile the rubbish they pull from the ocean, revealing overwhelming mountains of plastic, broken nets, and debris, a grim testament to the scale of the crisis.

“This is what we deal with on our fishing days,” said Adjetey, one of the fishermen, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

Nearby, we met a group of tourists visiting Christianborg Castle, we asked if they had been to the beach but they shook their heads emphatically and said, "We came to see the castle, but we wouldn’t go near the beach; the filth is unbearable, and it doesn’t feel safe. This place could be beautiful."

Their words echoed the sad reality of a once-promising shoreline now neglected and avoided, highlighting the growing economic toll on local businesses dependent on tourism and fishing struggling to survive.

We had hoped to speak to activists or officials from the Accra Metropolitan Assembly (A.M.A.) to understand what was being done to address the sanitation crisis, but despite our efforts, no one was available to comment.

Despite the efforts of environmental groups, the pollution persists, a glaring reminder of systemic failures, inadequate waste disposal, a lack of public toilets, and weak enforcement of sanitation laws only highlighting the urgent need for stricter policies, better facilities, and real consequences for those who dump waste improperly.

As we left Osu Beach, the image of the dead sea turtle, the fishermen’s dump site, and the tourists’ disappointment stayed with us, haunting reminders of what’s at stake.

The question is no longer about saving the Beach, but about whether we have the courage to act, if we will rise to the occasion and protect this cherished place, or let indifference wash it away? 

The choice is ours, and time is running out—will we take action before it's too late?