How do you define what makes someone a Ghanaian? After living abroad for three decades, a writer finds her way back home to Ghana in search of answers.
For as long as I can remember, Ghana was a country that I knew through others. It was often through the traditions of my parents and the stories of my older siblings of their time there that pieced together what I thought Ghana was.
I was born in Ghana but moved to Botswana when I was three, after my father began a new job as a university lecturer there. In our new country, my siblings and I were brought up eating a plethora of Ghanaian food—jollof rice, banku, fufu, nkontomire. When we couldn’t get them, we found solace in substitutes—ground plantain for fufu, spinach for nkontomire, mielie meal or maize flour for banku. Our parents also consistently spoke to us in Twi—the language of the Akan people of Ghana—although my mastery of the language proved elusive as I spent more time speaking English both in and out of school, than Twi at home. There was also a strong contingency of Ghanaians present in Botswana, so it was easy to maintain a lot of our culture. We were very cognizant of the fact that we were not Batswana but from elsewhere and that undoubtedly strengthened our affinity to all things Ghana.
In South Africa where I attended an international all-girls boarding school and made friends with people from all walks of life, my Ghanaian heritage was still front and center. But again, while attending college in the United States and then living and working in Indonesia, I found myself as the “other.” Not only was I an immigrant from another country, but I was also a Black African. In America, I was an outsider in another way as I found myself being identified more for my race as opposed to my ethnic identity. In Indonesia, there was both a focus on my race as well as my ethnic makeup. It was, however, harder to identify as a Ghanaian when I found my nationality being questioned.
I first came face to face with the idea of not being “Ghanaian enough” while attending Luther College in Decorah, a small town in Iowa. There, native Ghanaian students were quick to label people like me—who had not grown up in Ghana—as not truly Ghanaian. When I tried to say something in my stilted Twi, they would usually hurriedly tell me to stop. For them, my lack of fluency filled them with a hint of disbelief—or at times, ridicule. This often left me feeling confused as I asked myself, If they wanted me to speak Twi, why make me stop each time I tried to?
It was only amongst my family and friends back home that I could truly lay claim to my country. However, despite being nestled in this Ghanaian cocoon through each stage of my life, I could not help but shake off a certain sense of disconnect, the feeling that I was not completely whole when it came to claiming that identity.
So profound was this feeling that I chose it as the topic for my college application essay, “Waiting for the True Me.” In it, I spoke about how I always felt that a part of my identity was missing, convinced that once I made it back to Ghana I would in some way, be made whole again. And as with most things one expects, things didn’t go exactly as planned.
In June of 2017, I returned to Ghana after more than 30 years abroad. As the plane slowly approached Kotoka International Airport and we prepared to land, I looked out of my window with tempered excitement and a hint of trepidation. It was finally happening! Here I was coming back to my birthplace and country. I did not know what to expect, but one thing I did know was that I had been waiting for this moment all my life.
Ghana, oh Ghana, I thought to myself. No more looking at family photos and creating scenarios in my head, imagining what things were like. No more listening to my siblings’ stories. Finally, it was my turn to experience Ghana for me, and me alone.
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Life in Ghana was a myriad of lively experiences and I embraced them wholeheartedly. There was the music: Afrobeats’ WizKid, Davido, P-Square, Tiwa Savage; Hiplife, pioneered by Reggie Rockstone who helped give rise to artists such as Sarkodie, R2Bees, VIP, Kofi Kinaata and countless others; and Highlife, featuring artists Daddy Lumba, Bisa Kdei, King Promise, Kuami Eugene and KiDi. I became engrossed as I found myself discovering and enjoying more of the music scene. The hypnotic rhythm of reggae and dancehall, longtime favorites of mine, were also genres that I continued to listen to. It was a real pleasure to see and experience such an animated representation of it in Ghana through songs from musicians like Samini (formerly known as Batman), Stonebwoy, and Shatta Wale. Musical genres are often fluid, so it is common to see a lot of these artists creating music that span across, and encompass, a number of the different music styles.
There was also the welcomed normalcy of being able to again use words and phrases I had to change when living in the United States: washroom instead of toilet, bin instead of trash and chips instead of fries; it was the little things that reminded me of growing up in a Ghanaian household while living in both Botswana and South Africa.
I eagerly explored Ghana’s abundance of beaches, taking many trips every chance I got. I was resolute in my desire to tour as much of Ghana as possible, making my way to places such as Labadi Beach, Bojo Beach in Bortianor, the beaches in Kokrobite (Kokrobite) and Prampram (Ningo-Prampram), Aqua Safari Resort in Ada Foah, all in the Greater Accra region. I also took the opportunity to explore various other regions like Aburi Botanical Gardens in the Eastern Region, Takoradi (Western Region), Sogakope (Volta Region), Cape Coast (Central Region), where I made sure to visit Elmina Castle and Kakum National Park and Akosombo (also in the Eastern Region), where I managed to take a boat cruise to Dodi Island, all to the amazement and joy of my family and friends. Out of all these trips, the real highlight for me was finally being able to go to the Ashanti Region, my hometown district, where I got to visit both Adanwomase (the hometown of my father and also where my mother mostly grew up) as well as Assamang (the hometown of my maternal grandmother and my mother), including Kumasi. To not only be present and see the places where they had grown up and attended school, but to also hear the nostalgia in their voice as they recounted stories from their childhood, was a true blessing for me.
Then there was the fashion – oh, how Ghanaians love to look good! It is a true sense of pride in Ghana, and it is illustrated in the varied styles and radiant colors of our outfits. Gone now were the days where I seemed “overdressed.” And of course, finally being surrounded by fellow Ghanaians, the diversity of language flowing effortlessly, the culture – all a bigger representation of the pocket of Ghana that was present while living in Botswana.
However, as much as things felt familiar, I found that even here in my own country, I could not escape the question that had followed me throughout my entire life; Where are you from? Growing up and living outside of Ghana, it was an understandable question. So, it was jarring to me to come face to face with this type of inquisition here in Ghana, especially since it was often followed by expressions of surprise and adamant protests when I said “Ghana.” For many, they were certain that with my supposed accent and physical appearance (for some), there was no way I could be Ghanaian.
In Ghana, I often found myself lamenting with other Ghanaians who like me, also grew up outside of Ghana. For us, we struggled to understand this frustrating dichotomy: the idea of being considered a “foreigner” both in Ghana as well as our adoptive countries.
After coming face to face with the assertion, you are not Ghanaian, time and time again, I finally had to challenge one of my naysayers, asking, “What makes a Ghanaian?” He wasted no time in rattling off his set of perceived requirements; you must be born in Ghana – check, I said to myself, both your parents must be from Ghana – another mental check.
I was quick to point out to him that I had “met” both requirements, but he continued to insist that I was in fact, not Ghanaian. For him and the many others who also shared this belief, they were insistent on showing me just how “different” I was.
Another example of this being done was how if I found myself saying phrases or sentences in a certain way, then it was quickly whittled down to, “Oh, you are not Ghanaian.” Or, if I was not familiar with how certain things were done, again came that dreaded declaration. At times it was said in jest as it even became a running joke with one of my friends. But for the most part, it was a statement that seemed to be steeped in a need to delineate myself and others like me as the “other”.
Having lived, been educated and worked in five different countries on three continents, I have been exposed to many different cultures and am able to connect easily to individuals from various backgrounds. While this may make me “different,” it’s what makes me unique. Through my upbringing that was deeply rooted in Ghanaian culture, the language and my overall life experience, Ghana forms a huge part of who I am because Ghana is my home. I may not have the qualities of a typical Ghanaian—if there is even such a thing—but the world is ever-changing and one thing I can say is that I embrace my life’s journey.
Being here in Ghana for the past three years and finally able to explore all that it has to offer is an opportunity I would not change for anything. As I visited Adanwomase and Assamang, I found myself brimming with pride at how, given their humble beginnings, my parents had managed to come so far. I am not only a product of these two strong, determined, hard-working Ghanaians who both worked and excelled in the field of education, but I am without a doubt, fully Ghanaian as well. Not only did I manage to make it back to Ghana, but I have come to appreciate its vibrant tapestry of cultures rich in history and vast, lush greenery. Funny enough, even though I was the last to visit, I now know more regions of Ghana and most of Accra far better than my parents and my siblings. And just as Ghana is a country filled with a multitude of ethnic groups with their numerous differences, I am an extension and representation of these differences. My life is an addition to the vitality of Ghana as a country.
“What makes a Ghanaian?” is not a question that can be answered simply. For all the Ghanaians that have traveled and lived outside of Ghana, they bring to Ghana a diverse perspective that draws, not only on their Ghanaian nationality, but also on their exposure to various ethnic cultures in their adoptive countries. So yes, I believe I am a Ghanaian—just by way of Botswana, South Africa, the United States and even Indonesia.
