On March 26, 2024, Georgina Oboako, a mother of two, shared her painful ordeal on live television and radio, as well as Facebook and YouTube via a live video stream. The pineapple hawker, who moved from her rural hometown of Otuam in Ghana’s Ekumfi district to the city of Kumasi, started her story by revealing her struggles with accommodation. 

She recounted initially having to sleep at the Metro Mass Transit Limited bus terminal. After a few months, her two boys became acquainted with an elderly man, Agya Osei, who offered to house them in a small kitchen. The favor came along with a promise to enroll her sons in school. 

Excited and relieved, Oboako and her children moved into this makeshift bedroom, which she likened to receiving a chance to be in heaven. 

But one night, Osei paid Oboako an unexpected visit past 10 pm, under the pretext of buying her a TV. That night, he raped her, eventually even waking her sleeping children. 

Oboako approached the Sompa Nkomo show—which, as per Sompa TV, has over 300,000 listeners and viewers across radio, TV, and social media—to receive support and protection from her abuser. Sompa Nkomo is an entertainment talk show centered on self-appointed adjudication, where hosts mediate family and social disputes in the format of a court with a jury panel for resolution. 

Oboako shared her story with media personality Oheneni Ama Korankye, the host and resident judge of the show. Despite Oheneni’s over 12 years of experience as a journalist, the interview questions from the video, now widely circulated demonstrate a serious issue of a lack of enlightenment in ethics and criminal reportage. 

Portions of the conversation went like this:

“I sleep on my belly and before I realized it, he had slept (chest down) on my buttocks,” Oboako illustrated.

“That means he wants to penetrate your anus?” The host queried. 

“Yes!” she responded. 

“Abomination! LBTQ+,” the host shrieked in shock, announcing a break from the story to interview a representative of the show’s sponsors. When the show returned to Oboako’s story, it became even more comical while staying true to its graphic details. 

“He was stronger than I was so he forcefully pushed it into my anus,” Oboako reminded everyone.

“Georgina, please, can you confirm that he managed to push it into your anus?”

“Yes!”

“Gina, so he pushed it, deep inside your anus, and it entered…did it hurt…did you fluctuate?” Korankye asked in a squeaky and whimsical voice.

“It hurt,” Oboako responded. 

“Was this because you refused to give him your vagina?”

“He has raped me about six to eight times, so sometimes it is vaginal.”

“Then it (the vagina and anus) has possibly opened enough to merge, like the length of a pair of trousers.”

Silence.

Ghana’s Failing Justice System

Before the European invasion in 1471, the area now known as Ghana was governed by traditional customary laws, which continue to coexist with the national judiciary system and are upheld by Ghana’s Constitution through the institution of chieftaincy and its councils.

In Ghana’s traditional framework, a chief receives a complaint with a token of schnapps and money. The defendant also presents a token and the hearing and adjudication process begins. After the resolution, the parties pay their fines or offer another token to show appreciation. The higher the rank of the traditional authority, the higher the required tokens, and the more finality their ruling brings. 

Recently, these systems have proven inaccessible for the average Ghanaian facing 23.5% inflation as of January 2025, high taxes, poverty, a devalued cedi, and an underfunded health and education system. Additionally, most Ghanaians have seen both justice systems work to appease political power, and are losing faith in these institutions. 

In 2019, Afrobarometer reported that only one in 20 Ghanaians uses formal legal courts, with most respondents claiming it is too expensive. Others cited bias and long delays as their reasons. The report also found that “conditions necessary to ensure efficient and equal access to judicial systems, such as affordability, proximity, comprehensibility, and responsiveness, are not in place for a number of Ghanaians.”

In September 2024, the #StopGalamseyNow protest arrests showed many Ghanaians how the state operates, how we interact with it, and what it means to be ruled by autocracy within a democracy. Galamsey is the local term used to describe illegal small-scale mining activities, which is popular in most forest areas of Ghana. 

“34 out of 288 (forest) reserves have been affected,” explained John Allotey, the head of the Ghana Forestry Commission. The total area destroyed, he added, is estimated at 4,726 hectares. 

So, the #StopGalamseyNow movement was born, a citizens’ class action to address the country’s most pressing environmental and public health emergency. This movement sought to protect Ghana’s water security as rivers have become the basin where illegal miners wash the dirt off their gold deposits. 

Sadly, the response to the September 2024 peaceful protest organized by Democracy Hub being arrests and prosecution has demonstrated alarming abuses of power within Ghana’s policing and judicial systems. 53 individuals were detained for two weeks, some were outright kidnapped by police forces as they came out of a hospital, visited arrested friends, or stopped to take photos of the ongoing protests. 

They were denied access to lawyers and separated across police cells. The charges—assault, unlawful assembly and damage, conspiracy—were largely without foundation, designed to intimidate and halt the momentum. The treatment of the protesters shows that the Ghanaian government has no qualms about using its judiciary as a tool for intimidation. 

In this climate, where do Ghanaians turn for justice? Increasingly, that answer in the last four years has been the media. Though imperfect, the support these shows garner reflects Ghanaians’ demand for a responsive and accessible form of justice that does not favor wealth and political influence. 

Media Sensationalism and The Sompa Nkomo Show

The media adjudication system in Ghana follows a structured yet informal format that mirrors aspects of traditional and formal dispute resolution. Each session begins with the host calling out the case, introducing the complainant and accused, and summarizing the nature of the dispute. Typically, only the complainant is physically present, while the accused is contacted via phone and invited to appear in a future episode. 

The complainant is then allowed to share their side of the story, after which the accused, if available, responds. Both parties can present witnesses to support their claims. Once the testimonies are heard, the show’s panel members analyze the case, offering their opinions. The audience is then invited to call in and share their perspectives, adding a layer of public scrutiny. Finally, the host delivers a verdict, sentencing through sanctions and peace agreements but not formally convicting the defendant, which both parties often accept as a fair resolution. 

True to the format of the Sompa TV and Radio show, Oheneni Ama Korankye strikes a gavel to announce the cases by number and to demand “order in court.” She beats her guests with canes, belts, and her bare hands if she morally disagrees with their decisions, be it abortions or just “silly life choices” like taking out a loan for your husband who eventually leaves you. One of the three-panel members calls the host “my lady” and rings a medium-sized bell to emphasize each case’s scandalous aspects. 

The emerging popularity of these radio shows, especially in Kumasi, is as much about its accessibility as its entertainment value. The rules of evidence or ethical standards do not bind the hosts. Personal grievances of sensitivity like marital issues, accusations of theft, invocation of curses, or family disputes over properties with severe social consequences are amplified into public dramas as intimate details are revealed, and accusations are thrown out with abandon. The decisions are based on the most compelling story, not necessarily the most accurate one. 

The mode of these shows is transactional. The higher the shock value, the more entertained the audience is, the better your prolonged stay on radio and television, and the larger your payout—which includes cash and wax print, according to host Oheneni Ama Korankye. 

It is worth noting that most of the plaintiffs, mainly women, mention that the cases discussed on these shows have already been to the Legal Aid Commission Ghana, local police stations, and other welfare agencies under the Ministry of Gender, Children, and Social Protection. 

In Oboako’s alleged multiple rapes, Osei was called to respond. The accusations were presented to him and then the pair were given a chance to argue over the details of their case, with the host reminding Osei that his taking advantage of Oboako could be less complicated if he only engaged vaginally in the alleged rape. 

Osei admitted to sleeping with Oboako after offering her a place to stay but rejected the claim that he had anal sex with her. Oboako insisted that none of the sexual activities were consensual. Osei then threatened Oboako’s life, encouraging her to stay under the protection of the show and never come home. Meanwhile, Oboako shared that she had moved back to the bus terminal, leaving her vulnerable to these threats. 

After the 7-minute 20-second phone call with Osei and his promise to appear on the show (which never occurred), the session ended with one last set of questions for Oboako.

“So, Gina, please, between your anus and your front, which one is more enjoyable since you are the one he penetrated?” Korankye asked. “My child, tell your mother (the host) the truth?”

“I’m not lying on this large platform,” Oboako responded. “The man forcefully had sex with me anally and vaginally. And I did not enjoy the anal sex.”

“So the front was good?”

“The tip of his penis is huge so it hurt when he started, but it was okay once we got the rhythm. But the anal sex has affected me.”

The host held out her index and middle fingers, a sign of praise and respect often used in celebratory settings “I like you, baby,” she expressed to Gina. “So Agya Osei is really good in bed, then?”

“He is. I just wish he’d tell the truth.”

Cheers erupt in the studios as the bell rings in celebration of her coerced admission of enjoying her ordeal. 

How Media-Led Justice Can Complement Ghana’s Legal Landscape

Growing up in the early 2000s, radio drama shows reenacted household conflicts and encouraged listeners to call and pass judgment. These shows were hosted during off-peak hours. The sense of empowerment cultivated by the callers drove heavy traffic to these shows. 

Nonetheless, the final ruling is a quick judgment often influenced by the host’s biases or the tone of callers who may not be fully informed. Recently, as more listeners can weigh in on matters that typically remain private, more and more of these media court shows are popping up on mainstream radio, and online platforms, especially in Kumasi. 

Some of the shows with a heavy following include Oyerepa Afutu show hosted by Auntie Naa, Nhyira FM’s Mama Efe hosting Nhyira Obra, Makosem on Ezra FM, Akoma Mu Nsem on Akoma FM, Sompa Media, etc. While there are no penalties for abiding by the ruling of the media courts, the presenters often threaten accused persons with legal action, which is considered worse than accepting the resolution of these journalists’ turn judges. The only way to appeal a case is to apply to a different show with your story, which happens more often than not.

Ultimately, media adjudication entertainment shows drive home the point of a deeply rooted issue: the public’s waning faith in Ghana’s legal system. Yet, they should not be forced to choose between prolonged, expensive court cases and the sometimes reckless immediacy of radio and TV adjudication. While these shows have their place in entertainment and show business, the reality is that they have also become a lifeline for people in need—where individuals reach out for mutual aid to cover major surgeries, fund education, and other life expenses of guests. 

Oyerapa TV and Radio’s Auntie Naa, real name Eunice Amerley Nortey, has raised millions for guests. Whereas a man might languish in jail awaiting bail for lack of a surety, a radio host on a justice entertainment show might bring the issue to light, compelling listeners to help him within hours. Families have mended broken relationships with DNA reveals, and young people have secured guidance and mentorship resources. 

But while they provide a sense of accountability and can often lead to tangible resolutions, their effectiveness as a viable alternative to Ghana’s formal legal systems depends on key safeguards. At times, individuals with mental illness appear on these shows to share their grievances, often presenting disjointed narratives. Rather than addressing them with sensitivity, these moments are frequently reduced to comic relief, with hosts and audiences alike turning their struggles into sources of amusement.

Legal oversight, professional mediation, and clear appeal mechanisms are necessary to prevent sensationalism and ensure fairness. Rigorous fact-checking and adherence to due process will help maintain credibility. 

With these checks in place, media-led justice could complement Ghana’s legal landscape, bridging gaps in accessibility while upholding the principles of fairness and accountability.