It is amazing how development can change the status of subsistence groups so quickly. One minute, you and your group of herdsmen are labeled a ‘subsistence rural population’ who live off of the resources of say, a forest, and are the subject of intense anthropological study, your experiences heavily romanticized. The next minute, you are branded a bunch of ‘illegal loggers’ who are encroaching in the forests belonging to the government. Academics make so much out about the debate between traditional and commercial rights. But is there really any debate to speak of? The reality is, if there is little hope for the aborigines of Australia, whose lands are being ploughed by mining interests, and the First Nations of North America, whose livelihoods have been disrupted by an array of commercial interests – groups based in developed countries with significant NGO representation – what hope is there for the groups in say, the Niger Delta?
The most amazing thing about subsistence groups is how they become the topic of intense criticism for doing nothing - or more specifically, for doing ‘their own thing’. Groups, for example, who have been living in a patch of forest or in a wetland area for centuries, deploying the same hunting, foraging and gathering skills as their parents and their parents before them. It as if there is a multimillion dollar propaganda facility aimed at swaying public opinion about these subsistence groups. As soon as there is a mine that has been sited or patch of forest that is to be harvested, the articles start to be churned out by the hundreds about how these groups are ‘resisting’, are ‘encroaching’ on government lands, or are ‘criminals’.
This is what is happening throughout Ghana, and it extends well beyond the small-scale mining sector, whose operators, despite being branded as criminals, are making significant contributions to national coffers. It includes the Ewe fishing communities of the Bui area, which, despite having been there for a hundred years, are now being pushed aside to make way for the Chinese-funded Bui Hydroelectric Dam. And, the Fante fishermen of the Western Region, who will no doubt be pushed aside and whose interests will be ignored because of newly-discovered oil reserves offshore. Their inevitable resistance will no doubt get the propaganda machine going.
So a warning to all subsistence groups: beware of commercial interests. They could be in your backyard next and soon, you too could also be branded 'a bunch of criminals'.
Thursday, 31 July 2008
Wednesday, 30 July 2008
Random thoughts on today’s travel
If you want to surround yourself with some of Ghana’s elite, take an internal flight from Tamale to Accra. Whilst the flight costs about 90 pounds, it is certainly beyond the budgetary means of the average Northerner, who must resort to using shared buses to get to the country capital. I took a shared bus up to the north on the way up to Bolgatanga, and the differences in the people you encounter and their attitudes – whilst perhaps obvious – are striking: conversations are no longer conducted in Twi but rather English; people drink bottled water, not the sachet water prevalent along the roadside; and people are seen drinking herbal teas before boarding as opposed to the Milo that I thought was a staple of every African’s breakfast.
The conversation you hear in the Tamale airport lounge is too predictable: personal competitions about accomplishments. One woman, whose suitcases were carried for her from her car through customs, and onto the plane, seemed to be having a competition with another man about who had been abroad the most. ‘I hate going through London when I go to Canada,’ the woman said. ‘It means that I am in transit for nearly four hours.’ To this, the man responded: ‘Just go through the States direct. Delta has a direct service from Accra to New York, and you can connect to Canada. First class is not as good as they say, though…’ The discussion soon turned to where their children were educated.
The most noticeable difference between taking the bus and the plane is people’s sense of time. Whereas time is a non-issue for people on the bus, many of whom appear glad when it breaks down, in the middle of nowhere, eager to share their stories with one another, people boarding the plane are highly conscious of the time. ‘I hope this plane leaves on time,’ another woman said, after looking at her watch for the 45th time and to no one in particular, ‘because I have a meeting in Accra at 9.’ The time consciousness stems largely from where these people were educated or where they have spent significant portions of their lives: in Europe or North America. The obsession with deadlines, though, seems almost forced: I mean, who in Accra actually shows up for a meeting on the day, let alone at 9 o’clock?
These same people have likely never seen the inside of shared transport in Ghana, have drivers to take them to the Lebanese-owned grocery stores in Accra, have a house with 10 bedrooms, and have children in the country’s top private schools. I attracted frowns from many of them, likely because I was the only one boarding the plane who was not wearing a suit of some sort. In all likelihood, I would have attracted even more frowns had they known that I occasionally drink sachet water, that I take tro-tros regularly, that I eat food cooked at the roadside, that I don’t have a driver, and that the only reason I was taking the plane was because I discovered 100 pounds in my bag that I never knew was there.
Boy, to be rich in Africa…
The conversation you hear in the Tamale airport lounge is too predictable: personal competitions about accomplishments. One woman, whose suitcases were carried for her from her car through customs, and onto the plane, seemed to be having a competition with another man about who had been abroad the most. ‘I hate going through London when I go to Canada,’ the woman said. ‘It means that I am in transit for nearly four hours.’ To this, the man responded: ‘Just go through the States direct. Delta has a direct service from Accra to New York, and you can connect to Canada. First class is not as good as they say, though…’ The discussion soon turned to where their children were educated.
The most noticeable difference between taking the bus and the plane is people’s sense of time. Whereas time is a non-issue for people on the bus, many of whom appear glad when it breaks down, in the middle of nowhere, eager to share their stories with one another, people boarding the plane are highly conscious of the time. ‘I hope this plane leaves on time,’ another woman said, after looking at her watch for the 45th time and to no one in particular, ‘because I have a meeting in Accra at 9.’ The time consciousness stems largely from where these people were educated or where they have spent significant portions of their lives: in Europe or North America. The obsession with deadlines, though, seems almost forced: I mean, who in Accra actually shows up for a meeting on the day, let alone at 9 o’clock?
These same people have likely never seen the inside of shared transport in Ghana, have drivers to take them to the Lebanese-owned grocery stores in Accra, have a house with 10 bedrooms, and have children in the country’s top private schools. I attracted frowns from many of them, likely because I was the only one boarding the plane who was not wearing a suit of some sort. In all likelihood, I would have attracted even more frowns had they known that I occasionally drink sachet water, that I take tro-tros regularly, that I eat food cooked at the roadside, that I don’t have a driver, and that the only reason I was taking the plane was because I discovered 100 pounds in my bag that I never knew was there.
Boy, to be rich in Africa…
Saturday, 19 July 2008
Rallying Call
The more you see of him, the more Nana Akufo-Addo looks the part. He is charismatic; he speaks eloquently; and most importantly, he is saying the right things. Whilst local media outlets portray Ghana as being politically polarized – which is indeed the case – the growing support for Akufo-Addo leaves little doubt that he will be enshrined as the new President of the Republic come December.
Like all politicians, Akufo-Addo is making plenty of promises, among the most interesting of which is the idea that the revenues generated from newly-discovered oil, projected to be in the tens of millions, would be used to bridge the development gap between the south of the country and the north, should he be elected. This certainly bodes well for the pockets of impoverished in the likes of Tamale, Bolgatanga and Wa, the capitals of the Northern, Upper East and Upper West Regions – Ghana’s poorest areas. His speeches on the issue have been almost convincing. The $15billion to be derived from the oil proceeds in the first five years of the crude oil export, he explained adamantly, would be used in the development of the country and not to line his pocket or that of members of his government. “I would put one billion dollars into the Northern Development Fund as seed capital to cater for the development of roads, construction of small scale dams and harvesting of rain water to modernize agriculture,” he said.
This, indeed, is desperately needed; but Mr Akufo-Addo’s virtual denial of the way the present NPP regime has ignored the development needs of the north makes you wonder about how genuine these speeches are. Many northerners still see the NPP as a ‘Southern Party’ which has focused strictly on developing areas of the Ashanti, Eastern, Central, and Greater Accra Regions. And they argue with good reason: under the watch of the incumbent, the north has attracted only 2% of the country’s development projects, and virtually none of the President’s Special Initiatives. But to deny the reality of what has amounted to – either intentionally or unintentionally – a ‘development bias’ in Ghana is denial that there is a problem altogether. He hailed Tamale, the capital of the Northern Region, as the most beautiful in the country. There is little arguing here about the accuracy of this statement but claims that ‘It [Tamale] was not like that seven and half years ago’, in reference to the NPP’s arrival, however, are delusional: the city is still scarred with rampant poverty, and has little in the way of income-generating activities. His response to remarks about the ‘development bias’ has been that ‘Development projects under the NPP were shared equitably, its programmes, policies and interventions have national character, these include National Health Insurance Scheme (NHIS), school feeding programme and capitation grant that had benefited all Ghanaians’.
The pledge to develop the north, as well as ensure that public universities are in each of Ghana’s regions, were the rallying calls of the incumbent’s election campaign, in 2000; neither has happened. The campaign of Mr Akufo-Addo is effectively the same thing. But whilst he sounds more convincing in his speeches on tackling these issues, his repeated denial about the failure of his party to deliver on several fronts raises questions about the genuineness of many of his promises. For the sake of Ghana’s poor, let us hope that, should this charismatic and eloquent politician be the country’s next president, he delivers.
Like all politicians, Akufo-Addo is making plenty of promises, among the most interesting of which is the idea that the revenues generated from newly-discovered oil, projected to be in the tens of millions, would be used to bridge the development gap between the south of the country and the north, should he be elected. This certainly bodes well for the pockets of impoverished in the likes of Tamale, Bolgatanga and Wa, the capitals of the Northern, Upper East and Upper West Regions – Ghana’s poorest areas. His speeches on the issue have been almost convincing. The $15billion to be derived from the oil proceeds in the first five years of the crude oil export, he explained adamantly, would be used in the development of the country and not to line his pocket or that of members of his government. “I would put one billion dollars into the Northern Development Fund as seed capital to cater for the development of roads, construction of small scale dams and harvesting of rain water to modernize agriculture,” he said.
This, indeed, is desperately needed; but Mr Akufo-Addo’s virtual denial of the way the present NPP regime has ignored the development needs of the north makes you wonder about how genuine these speeches are. Many northerners still see the NPP as a ‘Southern Party’ which has focused strictly on developing areas of the Ashanti, Eastern, Central, and Greater Accra Regions. And they argue with good reason: under the watch of the incumbent, the north has attracted only 2% of the country’s development projects, and virtually none of the President’s Special Initiatives. But to deny the reality of what has amounted to – either intentionally or unintentionally – a ‘development bias’ in Ghana is denial that there is a problem altogether. He hailed Tamale, the capital of the Northern Region, as the most beautiful in the country. There is little arguing here about the accuracy of this statement but claims that ‘It [Tamale] was not like that seven and half years ago’, in reference to the NPP’s arrival, however, are delusional: the city is still scarred with rampant poverty, and has little in the way of income-generating activities. His response to remarks about the ‘development bias’ has been that ‘Development projects under the NPP were shared equitably, its programmes, policies and interventions have national character, these include National Health Insurance Scheme (NHIS), school feeding programme and capitation grant that had benefited all Ghanaians’.
The pledge to develop the north, as well as ensure that public universities are in each of Ghana’s regions, were the rallying calls of the incumbent’s election campaign, in 2000; neither has happened. The campaign of Mr Akufo-Addo is effectively the same thing. But whilst he sounds more convincing in his speeches on tackling these issues, his repeated denial about the failure of his party to deliver on several fronts raises questions about the genuineness of many of his promises. For the sake of Ghana’s poor, let us hope that, should this charismatic and eloquent politician be the country’s next president, he delivers.
Saturday, 31 May 2008
The Power of the USB and Cellular Phone
When European explorers first braved the interior of the ‘Dark Continent’ they often marvelled at – and occasionally frowned upon – the nomadic nature of many of its people. Whether it was a group in the Congo or a tribe traversing the Sahara from Kano, it seemed that people moved with all of their belongings, whether it was a camel, shovel or blade. This kind of lifestyle seemed unthinkable to the European, whose sole aim, it seemed, was to accumulate wealth through the acquisition of land, riches and property.
But has much changed since in many parts of Africa? Let me clarify (and forgive me for slightly departing from the discussion at hand) with some examples. How do you gain the confidence of a government official in Africa, gain the trust of a professor, or even secure a date? In my experience, by providing one of two gifts: a mobile phone or a pen drive (USB). The big project work financed by development agencies, which has facilitated few improvements in quality of life in sub-Saharan Africa, has made the aforementioned all the more valuable. Because amid all of the civil violence and electricity brownouts you are often forced to endure in Africa, you can count on two things, regardless of how dire your situation may be: an effective mobile phone network, propelled by ‘pay as you go’ credit, and an internet café. This is why a mobile phone and a pen drive are so essential in this environment: they store all of the African’s information and are, of course, portable. These items are no longer symbols of wealth in Africa but rather necessities in what seems to be – albeit for different reasons these days – a place where people are constantly on the move.
Thus, if an African’s house explodes, it is not the end of the world; if his or her farm burns down, it is not grounds to shoot oneself; if his or her car suddenly stopped working, it is not a disaster. But for people constantly on the move, losing a pen drive or cellular phone, which contain the details of one's life, ambitions, connections and lifestyle, would be catastrophic.
But has much changed since in many parts of Africa? Let me clarify (and forgive me for slightly departing from the discussion at hand) with some examples. How do you gain the confidence of a government official in Africa, gain the trust of a professor, or even secure a date? In my experience, by providing one of two gifts: a mobile phone or a pen drive (USB). The big project work financed by development agencies, which has facilitated few improvements in quality of life in sub-Saharan Africa, has made the aforementioned all the more valuable. Because amid all of the civil violence and electricity brownouts you are often forced to endure in Africa, you can count on two things, regardless of how dire your situation may be: an effective mobile phone network, propelled by ‘pay as you go’ credit, and an internet café. This is why a mobile phone and a pen drive are so essential in this environment: they store all of the African’s information and are, of course, portable. These items are no longer symbols of wealth in Africa but rather necessities in what seems to be – albeit for different reasons these days – a place where people are constantly on the move.
Thus, if an African’s house explodes, it is not the end of the world; if his or her farm burns down, it is not grounds to shoot oneself; if his or her car suddenly stopped working, it is not a disaster. But for people constantly on the move, losing a pen drive or cellular phone, which contain the details of one's life, ambitions, connections and lifestyle, would be catastrophic.
Thursday, 8 May 2008
Local Economic Development?
To what extent are mining companies contributing to local economic development? This question is being fiercely debated around the world. On the one hand, you have the companies, World Bank and investors pointing to how the industry has a mandate to hire locally, builds schools and libraries for indigenous groups, and attempts to generate local employment for affected peoples. On the other hand, you have NGOs arguing that because they are mechanized, mines provide very few employment opportunities; that the schools being built have no schoolteachers and that libraries are well-stocked but are in areas where no one can read; and that the efforts made to generate employment have been sporadic and ineffective overall. I tend not to get caught up in these debates.
But what I am interested in is how a company’s operations are contributing to local economic development. One way of doing that is to make use of local smallholders’ product. In Ghana here, it pains me to drive through rural areas and see tons of produce – mangoes, citrus, bananas, plantain – rotting on the roadside because it did not get to the market on time. I have seen this time and time again in mining communities, which raises the questions: to what extent are companies using local producers? This is something that needs to be investigated.
Someone once told me that in Ghana, one company does catering for all of the mining companies. That is a lot of money and more importantly, a lot of food. ‘It is ridiculous what some of these companies are doing,’ a Guyanese colleague once told me. ‘Here in Guyana, these companies are importing apples, when you have mangoes and papaya here; they are importing canned tuna, when you have the best shrimp and fish right here; and they are importing rice when you have the best rotis produced right here.’ Having eaten at several of the mining companies’ canteens in Ghana, there is certainly evidence of this taking place: the beef, potatoes, apples, pears and juices are surely imported, in true expatriate style. And fair enough, I guess. But there are also local dishes served alongside these luxuries, including fu-fu, banku and red red. These dishes use local ingredients: plantain, maize, yam, cassava. So where is the catering company sourcing its supplies of these goods?
Of course, a mining company cannot make everybody happy. But allowing caterers to go outside of catchment communities to secure food supplies seems senseless. I am by no means advocating that this is taking place in Ghana but communications with colleagues suggest that it is happening elsewhere in the world. Using local producers would certainly make a lot of people happy, and could go a long way toward restoring a company’s relationship with its communities.
After all, is not engaging with local producers a more beneficial CSR initiative than a school with no teacher?
But what I am interested in is how a company’s operations are contributing to local economic development. One way of doing that is to make use of local smallholders’ product. In Ghana here, it pains me to drive through rural areas and see tons of produce – mangoes, citrus, bananas, plantain – rotting on the roadside because it did not get to the market on time. I have seen this time and time again in mining communities, which raises the questions: to what extent are companies using local producers? This is something that needs to be investigated.
Someone once told me that in Ghana, one company does catering for all of the mining companies. That is a lot of money and more importantly, a lot of food. ‘It is ridiculous what some of these companies are doing,’ a Guyanese colleague once told me. ‘Here in Guyana, these companies are importing apples, when you have mangoes and papaya here; they are importing canned tuna, when you have the best shrimp and fish right here; and they are importing rice when you have the best rotis produced right here.’ Having eaten at several of the mining companies’ canteens in Ghana, there is certainly evidence of this taking place: the beef, potatoes, apples, pears and juices are surely imported, in true expatriate style. And fair enough, I guess. But there are also local dishes served alongside these luxuries, including fu-fu, banku and red red. These dishes use local ingredients: plantain, maize, yam, cassava. So where is the catering company sourcing its supplies of these goods?
Of course, a mining company cannot make everybody happy. But allowing caterers to go outside of catchment communities to secure food supplies seems senseless. I am by no means advocating that this is taking place in Ghana but communications with colleagues suggest that it is happening elsewhere in the world. Using local producers would certainly make a lot of people happy, and could go a long way toward restoring a company’s relationship with its communities.
After all, is not engaging with local producers a more beneficial CSR initiative than a school with no teacher?
Tuesday, 6 May 2008
Dirty Looks in the Akwatia Diamond Market
Last week, I visited Akwatia for the first time, despite having carried out research on mining in Ghana for nearly a decade. It is indeed a shell of its former self, in large part because the parent company, Ghana Consolidated Diamonds (GCD), has pretty much ceased operating. The purchasing arrangement inaugurated under GCD was unique, and provided tributers with security of tenure and, most importantly, a job. A decision by Antwerp to regulate exports of Ghanaian diamonds has further complicated things. Apparently, UN people have concluded that Ivorian diamonds are being smuggled into Ghana and exported as Ghanaian diamonds. Major buyers and retailers do not want to be caught up in buying ‘conflict diamonds’, and I see their point. But what I do not see is the justification for such a sweeping generalization, particularly when only isotopic analysis can differentiate between an Ivorian and Ghanaian diamond. Is this analysis being carried out? I hardly think so.
Every morning between 8 am 12 AM, the diamond buyers – or the few who can afford to sponsor diamond miners and/or purchase their product – converge in the centre of town. I was told that during the heyday, as many as 500 buyers were packed into its narrow streets. On the day I went, however, there were fewer than 40. ‘Business is tough these days,’ explained one buyer. ‘It is because of the Kimberley Process.’ Recognition of Kimberley signifies that these guys know what is going on – specifically, that forces beyond Ghana are responsible for their fate. This could explain why I received innumerable dirty looks throughout the day: perhaps they thought I worked for the UN or was, in fact, Mr Kimberley. The most depressing, and indeed identifiable, feature of Akwatia is its ‘(boom) bust-like’ appearance: abandoned stalls, shops selling goods that were once affordable luxuries, and empty hotels. With the exodus of mining, of course, has come poverty, which can only be fixed with, well, the resurgence of mining.
So let us hope for the sake of Akwatia’s people that the diamond embargo is lifted. After all, it has not been a location of civil violence, so why should its people also be victims of what unfolded in Sierra Leone, the Ivory Coast and Angola?
Every morning between 8 am 12 AM, the diamond buyers – or the few who can afford to sponsor diamond miners and/or purchase their product – converge in the centre of town. I was told that during the heyday, as many as 500 buyers were packed into its narrow streets. On the day I went, however, there were fewer than 40. ‘Business is tough these days,’ explained one buyer. ‘It is because of the Kimberley Process.’ Recognition of Kimberley signifies that these guys know what is going on – specifically, that forces beyond Ghana are responsible for their fate. This could explain why I received innumerable dirty looks throughout the day: perhaps they thought I worked for the UN or was, in fact, Mr Kimberley. The most depressing, and indeed identifiable, feature of Akwatia is its ‘(boom) bust-like’ appearance: abandoned stalls, shops selling goods that were once affordable luxuries, and empty hotels. With the exodus of mining, of course, has come poverty, which can only be fixed with, well, the resurgence of mining.
So let us hope for the sake of Akwatia’s people that the diamond embargo is lifted. After all, it has not been a location of civil violence, so why should its people also be victims of what unfolded in Sierra Leone, the Ivory Coast and Angola?
Leftovers
It is amazing what you can find in an African market. The majority of goods available are second hand, of course: clothes, radios and shoes. Of the goods that are new, most are produced in China and India and are generally of poor quality.
On the one hand, the level of material reuse in Africa is commendable. Here, you have automotive parts that would be instantaneously melted down or discarded in the UK being refitted into a ‘tro-tro’ or communal vehicle: they are treated as raw materials. The continent is indeed the king of automotive refurbishment, and we in the West could learn a lot from these guys. But on the other hand, this simply underscores what Africa is for us: a repository for our waste and unwanted products. After all, the refurbished automotive parts were selected from, well, outdated cars in the first place – cars that would not be deemed fit to be on a European road; nor which anyone in Europe would want anyway.
Sometimes it is amazing what trade liberalization and de-regulated markets have created in the developing world. I mean, twenty years ago, who would have thought that African capitals would be epicenters for poor-quality used clothing manufactured in South Asia, used bicycles produced in the Far East, rice manufactured in Thailand and the US, and toothpicks – I repeat, toothpicks – produced in China. In Ghana here, the indispensable MSG-infested Maggi cubes that make or break the jolof rice, chicken dishes and light soups we consume, are manufactured in Malaysia; as is the ketchup used on our rice dishes, despite the fact that the country is a major producer of tomatoes. But what perhaps tops everything is the television program shown during primetime (Friday and Saturday nights). This is a Mexican soap (produced circa-2001) translated into English. Accra seems to stop on Friday and Saturday nights to watch it, and if you are in a building where it is being televised, you often see women pick up their cell phones to call their friends, sisters and mothers to gossip and reflect critically on what Carlos Raul or Alessandro has said, has not said, has done, or has not done. From what I hear, most African countries have similar soaps ‘imported’ from Latin America and the Philippines.
Sometimes the things you see in Africa are mind-boggling.
On the one hand, the level of material reuse in Africa is commendable. Here, you have automotive parts that would be instantaneously melted down or discarded in the UK being refitted into a ‘tro-tro’ or communal vehicle: they are treated as raw materials. The continent is indeed the king of automotive refurbishment, and we in the West could learn a lot from these guys. But on the other hand, this simply underscores what Africa is for us: a repository for our waste and unwanted products. After all, the refurbished automotive parts were selected from, well, outdated cars in the first place – cars that would not be deemed fit to be on a European road; nor which anyone in Europe would want anyway.
Sometimes it is amazing what trade liberalization and de-regulated markets have created in the developing world. I mean, twenty years ago, who would have thought that African capitals would be epicenters for poor-quality used clothing manufactured in South Asia, used bicycles produced in the Far East, rice manufactured in Thailand and the US, and toothpicks – I repeat, toothpicks – produced in China. In Ghana here, the indispensable MSG-infested Maggi cubes that make or break the jolof rice, chicken dishes and light soups we consume, are manufactured in Malaysia; as is the ketchup used on our rice dishes, despite the fact that the country is a major producer of tomatoes. But what perhaps tops everything is the television program shown during primetime (Friday and Saturday nights). This is a Mexican soap (produced circa-2001) translated into English. Accra seems to stop on Friday and Saturday nights to watch it, and if you are in a building where it is being televised, you often see women pick up their cell phones to call their friends, sisters and mothers to gossip and reflect critically on what Carlos Raul or Alessandro has said, has not said, has done, or has not done. From what I hear, most African countries have similar soaps ‘imported’ from Latin America and the Philippines.
Sometimes the things you see in Africa are mind-boggling.
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