Hypertension is Ghana's Silent Killer and We Must Face It Head On
My days at the clinic are starting to look too familiar, and I don’t like it. At least three patients come in with a damocles sword symbolized by six digits. Figures on the numerator, the systolic, cause us to raise our brows when they consistently exceed 140 mmHg, and figures below, which we call diastolic, cause us concern when they regularly exceed 90 mmHg.
On this day, a 52-year-old market woman walks into the consulting room, complaining of a hammering headache, heart palpitations, and vomiting. Her blood pressure reads 180/130 mmHg. After taking her history, I explain to her that her blood pressure is high enough to cause a stroke. She waves it off, saying, “It’s probably because I vomited,” she insists, refusing to believe she has hypertension, a disease she claims she’s never had. When I urge her to be admitted for life-saving treatment, her response in Twi is: “Doctor, I have to go back to the market.” The day’s business is more urgent than the hypothetical threat of a brain hemorrhage. After all, she and her family face real economic threats if she doesn’t return to the market.
Later, a man in his late forties arrives with crippling dizziness and blurred vision. His blood pressure reads an astronomical 200/180 mmHg. He admits he’s felt these symptoms before but was convinced he was suffering a spiritual attack. He has spent the previous weeks fasting and praying for deliverance, inadvertently allowing a medical emergency to escalate into a potential disaster.
Then there is the 68-year-old woman who, having been mistakenly told by someone that her blood pressure was too low, was advised to “eat more salt.” She reports following this disastrous advice faithfully. Her feet are swollen, her heart pounds constantly, and the resulting confusion has encouraged her to try a local herbal concoction. When she finally sees me, her blood pressure reads 160/112 mmHg.
These aren’t hypothetical; they are the face of a hidden national crisis. Hypertension, commonly known as “BP”, is quietly becoming one of Ghana’s most devastating epidemics. It is no longer a disease limited to the “old”; it cuts across every age group, gender, and social background. My position is clear: the most dangerous challenge we face is not a lack of medication or clinics, but a fundamental gap between access and understanding. We have the tools to treat this disease, but we are failing to teach our people how it works and why they must commit to lifelong care.
Free medication is available, often covered by Ghana’s National Health Insurance Scheme, and clinics are ready. But between the clinic and the community lies a hazardous gap filled with myths, misinformation, and dangerously misplaced faith. Data suggests that one in three adults in Ghana lives with hypertension, yet most remain undiagnosed or, if diagnosed, untreated. The patients I have seen who miss their follow-up appointments are not typically facing financial barriers. Their reasons are far more troubling: “I forgot,” “I was feeling fine,” or the conviction of “I’ve been healed in Jesus name.” Rarely, others admit to halving their prescribed doses to “stretch out” their supply, failing to understand that stretching the medicine stretches the risk of a stroke.
I have realized the problem is deeply rooted in partial, patchy knowledge. People know that “BP” is dangerous, but they barely understand the mechanics of why. They might know excess salt and fat are harmful, but they overlook the critical roles played by regular exercise, weight management, and genetics. This oversight is compounded by the rapid spread of dangerous health misinformation through informal channels, promoted by self-proclaimed healers and unlicensed practitioners. This creates a collision course where deeply held beliefs, enforced by faith and cultural myths, compete directly with scientific truth. Furthermore, in many households where no one can read a prescription, adherence is nearly impossible.
“The most powerful intervention we can offer our communities is not a new pill, but a new, intentional approach to dialogue.”
Faith is profoundly woven into the Ghanaian identity, offering comfort and strength. But in the case of hypertension, faith and medicine must learn to collaborate, not collide. Hypertension is a physiological condition, not a spiritual curse. While prayer sustains the spirit, medicine sustains the body. We must engage our religious and community leaders as active partners in health promotion, helping them understand that delaying treatment in favor of prayer alone is a deadly risk.
The most powerful intervention we can offer our communities is not a new pill, but a new, intentional approach to dialogue.
We must make health education unavoidable. We need a sustained national effort to embed health information into every community interaction whether at the marketplace, in places of worship, or at social gatherings. Public health messages must be simple, use local languages, and rely on cultural metaphors that resonate deeply. Imagine a campaign where the children of these patients visit homes with the specific goal of teaching what hypertension is, why taking medication daily is essential, and how simple adjustments to diet and exercise prevent fatal complications. This small, consistent education can save more lives and prevent more strokes and kidney failures than any emergency ward can. Fortunately, this is already happening thanks to the University of Ghana Medical Students’ Association Health Committee. This committee leads future doctors as they meet their communities where they are and speak a language divorced from the jargon that is common in our referral hospitals and ivory towers. Initiatives like these need to be highlighted and supported. Many pharmaceutical industry actors recognize this and have joined the committee in their efforts to bridge the aforementioned health education gap.
Beyond in-person activities, healthcare workers must leverage social media to combat misinformation. Again, the committee and students’ association recognize the important role of social media in the prevention, early diagnosis, and management of hypertension in Ghana. You can help support these activities by following them on various social media platforms, interacting with, and sharing their content. Through a follow, share, comment, or like you can be a hero and save a life.
We cannot afford to treat hypertension as the disease of an isolated group of individuals because the data clearly state that it impacts at least one person among our loved ones and acquaintances. Hypertension is here and whether it stays or not depends on our actions. Therefore, it is a collective challenge of education, culture, and care that belongs to all of us. If we fail to act with this level of clarity and commitment, the next generation will inherit more than our genetics; they will inherit our neglect and our ignorance. We have a duty to educate now.