Memoirs of Accra

Travelling back to Ghana brought so many strong emotions in me, greater than I thought imaginable. In 2 months, I found myself right at home yet, oftentimes, longing for home. Having grown up outside Ghana, with the world now becoming my home, my true home in the world no longer felt like it- at least, initially anyways.

Luckily, holding both this hazy limbo allowed me to observe things deeper than what the locals would consider ordinary, and beyond what a tourist would seek to understand. For instance, it was on this trip that I fell in love with the Ghanaian spirit to innovate, start anew, and build afresh. Every square meter of Accra, is brimming with the hustler and go-getter spirit: a barber around the corner, the convenience store along the alleyway, the photo studio at the junction, all birthed from the insatiable desire to have a source of income, something to call your own.

Another phenomenon I got to witness, during my short-lived stay in Accra was the rustic, untainted beauty of Ghanaian architecture. The hubs of economic activity- Osu, East Legon, Accra circle, Kaneshie- I felt, were so purely and unapologetically Ghanaian. Buildings, that could have been adorned with the modern glass walls, were rather decked out with palm trees and wooden sculptures. Up and coming restaurants, serving both the locals and the diaspora were nestled under timber oak, which made eating (something I had always loved to do) even more enjoyable. The markets I visited had also retained their essence, the proverbial chatter of prices negotiated, the clanking of coins, the beckon ‘yess mama come and greet me’ echoing throughout, as I would imagine it did 50 years ago.

Although I would imagine Ghanaian architecture and aesthetics may have been largely controlled by the local resources- the oak, the palm, the cocoa- that are so widely in abundance, there seems to be a sense of intentionality to it; that the architecture chooses to pay homage to the culture and people that formed it. In what we would call a modern age, it was so refreshing to see a city that had seemed to have no intentions of changing, that embraced its roots and was set on remaining grounded in them.

But I am worried that such a landscape is on the brink of extinction. Okay, in a less melodramatic tone, it seems that as time goes by, the Accra I have come to acclaim will soon change, joining in alongside the rapidly industrialised world. Speaking with the artisans of the Accra Art Centre, I learnt that, with the city’s development, the once vibrant market was to be moved to an obscure part of the city. The sellers worried, and rightfully so, that tourists and local Ghanaians would be likely to be discouraged from visiting, as they would soon have to travel further to purchase their artefacts. As you would imagine, this would drive the already faltering economy and slow down their income even further than the pandemic has.

Empathising with sellers, I too was immediately enraged. Why would they move the Accra Art Center, from its historic site in Jamestown to a further out place they have yet to fully disclose? I felt for them; their livelihoods are likely to shrivel, with the reduced buzz (and no doubt money) from the visiting tourists. Upon doing more research and watching more videos, such as Vannessa Kanbi’s video on the gentrification that has affected the occupants of Osu and other areas, it seems that this situation was more pervasive and dire than I thought.

And the biggest realisation of it all was, that a large contribution to the change was in fact the return of the diaspora and the people who once lived in Ghana, people like myself. Though our return brings excitement (and once again, money for pocket), it introduces a demand for upscale hotels and entertainment scenes, to accommodate the high-end taste of its visitors. But unfortunately, with our stay often only lasting a few weeks, these hotels are quickly emptied, leaving only shallow spaces and abandoned buildings. So for the locals, who would not dare pay abrofo (or foreigner) prices, and the hoteliers who are not willing to reduce their prices for a season, all that effort for relocation seems put to vain.

So the question I found myself asking is, what can we do to accommodate everyone who holds the privilege of being Ghanaian? Both those who are here temporarily and those who are here to stay. How can both their needs be accommodated without dampening the other? How can I as a person who calls himself, unapologetically Ghanaian, enjoy what my country has to offer without adversely affecting those who are the backbone of running it? These are questions that I have grappled with, and whose answers I am keen on finding. I hope starting this conversation, is my first step to finding them.

In Ghana, we have an Akan phrase and an adinkra symbol ‘Sankofa’ ( pronounced SAHN-koh-fah) which literally means ‘to go back and get’. It's a call to find your roots, and to pay homage to the land that birthed you. But Sankofa is also a mandate to cater for the needs of your people, to go and retrieve, to go back and serve.

So for me, while it is always a pleasure to return somewhere to call home, however much that feeling falters the longer I’m away, I hope with this new awakening I find the balance, to not just return to, but to serve the place I call home.