Once upon a time in Ghana
Ghana’s tourism industry is booming, writes Eugene Yiga
WITH the median age of its population at just 30 years, Ghana is a young and vibrant country with a story that’s just getting started.
“Can you sing?” a lady in our group asks our tour guide when he tells us that his name is Elvis. He flashes a gaptoothed smile. “Yes,” he says in a booming voice that proves his point. “But only Ghanaian songs”.
And what better song is there to sing than that of his country? The 47-year-old Elvis Wallace-Bruce, wearing a traditional shirt and sporting a thin moustache, tells us that he’s been leading tours for the past 15 years. And it’s a lot busier now than it was when he first started.
Indeed, it seems that Ghana’s tourism industry has experienced a major turnaround over the past decade. Visits increased at an average annual growth of 17% from 2006 to 2010, which was when the UN’s World Tourism Organisation’s annual compilation highlighted Ghana as one of four countries in sub-Saharan Africa that outperformed the world average tourism growth for that year.
“Sometimes I use an interpreter for European tourists,” Elvis says, pointing out that most visitors come from places like Germany, France, the Netherlands, the UK and the US. “They like to come for the culture and history.”
Right now, tourism is the fourth highest foreign exchange earner and contributed $1.7 billion (R22bn) to GDP in 2013, the year Ghana was ranked among Africa’s top 10 destinations. But even though the industry employs over 400 000 people, the competition doesn’t bother Elvis. With the World Travel and Tourism Council predicting that international tourist arrivals will reach over a million visitors each year by 2021, Elvis believes there’s more than enough to go around.
Cultural and ethnic diversity
Elvis attributes the growth to the friendly people of Ghana, a country Forbes magazine ranked as the eleventh friendliest in the world in 2011.
Ghanaians have a great deal of cultural and ethnic diversity.
“Each of the country’s ten administrative regions has its own languages, customs and culture,” Elvis says, explaining that Greater Accra is the smallest but most populous. “But there is no fighting between ethnic groups.”
In many ways, it’s thanks to school, where Ghanaian language and culture is taught alongside English (the official language), French (to facilitate communication between neighbouring countries) and more. Elvis explains that youngsters from different cultures share dormitories so that they can become friends.
Similarly, university graduates are given government jobs in parts of the country away from their native lands, forcing them to socialise with other groups.
It’s the same with religion. Although Ghana is mostly Christian, the country’s religious and moral education teaches Islam and traditional beliefs. And if two people from different faiths get married, their children are free to choose which they wish to follow, as long as the family accepts.
“We see each other as Ghanaians before our ethnic or religious groups,” Elvis says, recalling his ability to pray without conflict at the same time and in the same space as his Muslim university room-mate. “We see each other as one.”
Traders everywhere
To get up close and personal with the locals, our tour takes us to Makola Market. Unlike the shopping mall, where the presence of South African stores – Truworths, Shoprite, Mr Price and Game – made me feel like we were back home, it’s somewhat chaotic. There are traders everywhere, displaying some impressive skill, either by hacking open coconuts with machetes or balancing products on their heads without bumping into anyone else.
But the real test comes when we make our way to Accra Handicraft Market. The traders here are determined to make a sale. “Remember that there is no fixed price,” Elvis says. “So if they tell you something even if it seems cheap you must take off one third or even one half. Then you can bargain. And if you’re not happy, just walk away.”
I’m grateful for this advice as soon as we step off the bus and the traders come running, like sharks detecting blood.
But despite their somewhat aggressive nature and us looking like typical tourists I’m adamant not to get involved. That’s because I’m far more interested in finding a story than finding another fridge magnet or keyring.
From orphans to artists
That’s how I meet Mumin Issaka and his brother Prince. He tells me that they’re orphans who perfected their artistic skills while moving from one village to another. And they’ve now been in the city selling their products for the past 15 years.
“See?” Prince says, as he folds and unfolds one of his paintings. “It doesn’t get damaged. That’s why I now use acrylic instead of oil.”
I continue browsing through the store, filled with intricately woven straw baskets and carvings made from single pieces of wood in a process that can take up to five days. Mumin can see my fascination at which point he pounces and insists that I buy a symbolic mask. “They were used as passports to show which tribe someone was from,” he explains. “Now you can take one and have a good story to tell about where you were.”
It doesn’t take long for us to reach a reasonable agreement on the price. But things are more complicated with another trader, who was in the process of making a bracelet with my name. Even though we’d agreed on the amount beforehand, he claims that the price was in US dollars, making it four times the Ghanaian cedi amount.
Different people and cultures
“It sounds like you were a victim of the Kwaku Anansi.” Elvis laughs when I tell him what happened. “He’s the spider who lures you into a bad deal and then leaves you alone.”
Elvis tells us all the story of the time Kwaku had to share a loaf of bread with his two non-spider friends. Acting generous, he insisted that each friend take half the loaf, leaving himself with nothing. But then, in return for his generosity, he insisted that each friend give him half of their half. That left Kwaku with half a loaf and a quarter for each of his so-called friends.
A casual look around at the locals mingling with plenty of young expats confirms Elvis’s belief that different people and cultures can coexist.
And so, while a small group of people (including someone who might be the country’s first hipster farmer) danced to diverse songs that changed too fast, we joined the pretty party and took our seats on black plastic chairs that spilled into the street. It was the perfect spot from which to watch the convoys go by while sipping on the bar’s most famous drink: the kokroro.
Nobody could quite identify the mysterious “spirit component” listed on the menu. Then again, perhaps finding out what it was, would be a story unto itself.
‘We see each other as Ghanaians before our ethnic or religious groups,’ Elvis says. ‘We see each other as one’