GH?50 for two pears: When did everyday food become a luxury?

By Enoch Young DOGBE

After church, I decided to treat myself to a simple, familiar meal—yam, ripe plantain, pear, and egg stew. Nothing extravagant. Just good food, the kind many Ghanaians grew up eating without much thought.

On my way home, I stopped at the market to buy the ingredients. The yam was expensive but expected. The plantain was not cheap either. Then I got to the pears.

One pear was selling for ?30. A smaller one for ?20.

I hesitated. Asked again. Looked around. Then I paid ?50 for two pears—and I took pictures.

As I walked away, one question refused to leave my mind: when did everyday food become a luxury in Accra?

This article is not really about pears. It is about what their price reveals.

The quiet shock at the market

There was no argument at the stall. No raised voice. No public protest. Just that familiar Ghanaian pause—the one where you calculate quickly, sigh inwardly, and pay anyway.

That pause is becoming common.

Across Accra, consumers are encountering prices that feel unreasonable but unavoidable. Tomatoes, pepper, garden eggs, onions, fruits—items that once formed the foundation of daily meals are increasingly treated like optional extras. You buy less. You skip some items. You adjust.

This is how food inflation now shows itself: not through loud outrage, but through silent endurance.

If we don’t import pears, why are they so expensive?

Pears are grown locally. They are not imported. Their price cannot be blamed on foreign shipping costs or exchange-rate volatility.

So, what explains ?50 for two Pears?

The answer lies in long-standing structural weaknesses that continue to define Ghana’s food system:

• High transport costs, driven by fuel prices and poor logistics
• Significant post-harvest losses
• Too many intermediaries between farmers and consumers
• Weak coordination and oversight within food markets
• Pricing decisions that thrive in the absence of transparency

Each inefficiency adds a few cedis. By the time food reaches the market, consumers are paying not just for production, but for everything that went wrong after harvest.

The most dangerous stage of a food crisis

What makes this moment particularly worrying is not only how expensive food has become, but how normalised the prices are becoming.

People complain quietly, make dark jokes, and move on. There are no real alternatives. Hunger does not wait for market corrections. Nutrition cannot always be postponed.

So, people keep paying—not because they believe the prices are fair, but because they have no choice.

This is the most dangerous stage of a food crisis: when citizens stop questioning the system and focus only on coping.

When food inflation becomes a dignity issue

Food is not just about calories. It is about health, dignity, and quality of life.

When fruits become optional, nutrition suffers.

When balanced meals become “treats,” inequality deepens.

When households must negotiate whether to add vegetables to a meal, the long-term costs appear elsewhere—in health outcomes, productivity, and overall wellbeing.

At a time when many households are already struggling with high rent, transport fares, and utility costs, rising food prices leave little room to breathe. The pressure compounds quietly, meal by meal.

A society where ordinary people struggle to afford food grown in their own soil should not be comfortable with that reality.

Why the anger is real—but muted

Ghanaians are not unaware of what is happening. They are exhausted.

Exhausted from adjusting budgets that no longer stretch.

Exhausted from explaining rising prices to their children.

Exhausted from earning more on paper but affording less in practice.

The anger exists—but it is quiet, because complaining does not lower prices. Silence, however, should not be mistaken for acceptance.

The question we can no longer avoid

The issue is not whether ?50 for two pears reflects “market forces.” The real question is this:

Should a country that produces much of its own food allow basic nutrition to drift out of reach for ordinary citizens?

If the answer is no, then food pricing cannot remain a background economic statistic. It is a public issue—one that deserves urgent attention, better coordination, and deliberate policy focus.

A final thought

The pears I bought will be eaten and forgotten. Their price should not be.

What food item shocked you recently?

What have you stopped buying—not because you want to, but because you have to? How long can this quiet endurance continue?

Because when everyday food becomes a luxury, the crisis is no longer approaching. It is already here

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