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ACCRA. CAPITAL CITY. POPULATION 2.6 MILLION. FORTY JOURNALISM students, one goal: To tell the stories of everyday people. From its bustling boisterous markets. To the relentless enterprising merchants who hawk their wares in perilous streets that buzz with motorists and merciless motorbikes that dart recklessly in between traffic. To the faithful “Kayaye”—the young women who work as head porters, carrying more than their weight on their heads and a small child tied in a cloth on their backs.

"The consensus around here is that whatever superlatives may be used to describe Ghana, one must also interject the word, 'hard.'"

This is their story—presented here as an abridged version. It is a story of the rhythms of life and of this time. The story of a people whose hardship alone is not enough to dissuade them from choosing to view life through the prism of possibility, even when sweat is dripping like raindrops from their brow, their backs aching from carrying their burdens in the heat of the day, their fingers stretched, their feet wearied and worn, and another day’s journey of toil for little pay awaiting at the light of each new sunrise.

This is their story. A story of life, love, laughter and faith. Of endurance in this capital West African metropolis, where the consensus around here is that whatever superlatives may be used to describe Ghana, one must also interject the word, “hard.” There is another undeniable truth. It is as glaring as the inevitable suffocating traffic on the Spintex Road: That "freedom and justice," for many here in the humbling, hardscrabble streets of Accra, looks and feels a lot like, "freedom and just us." And it is apparent, they say, that no help is coming, at least no time soon.

“Ghana is hard,” they say. But the people of Accra are harder—more resilient than the poverty and lack that many face. Unbreakable in spirit and in determination. This much is clear in their stories. Like the story of the young men who wander in search of scrap metal, lingering somewhere between homelessness and subsistence.

The story of the mother who sells tomatoes in the market and ekes out a living for her family by her mastery. The story of the young woman who has broken the unspoken barrier of becoming a lottery agent in a male-dominated world. The tale of the family for whom producing and selling kenkey is their pride and joy, like a daughter called Grace who leads the family charge.

"People of Accra" is a story in which it becomes apparent that perhaps some of the people in this world richest in faith and spirit are those poorest in substance. That socioeconomic circumstances cannot extinguish the joy, dignity and pride of a people. And that examining the world through the stories of everyday people, even the poor, is a worthwhile undertaking for both journalism's sake and democracy's.

People of Accra is a collective human story of hope and also despair. A story of life and also hardship. A story that shines like the golden morning sun on this city’s brightest days. And that pales like a dark and stormy sky, threatening consuming rains to drench the streets, washing away whole communities by ensuing floods, and with them, even the vulnerable kiosks of merchants and also their wares, plunging them deeper into the daily plight for survival.

People of Accra. This is their story. Told through the eyes and pens of Ghanaian students enrolled during spring 2022 in a journalism course at the University of Ghana-Legon. It is a human story. A story about Africa and Africans told, not by outsiders looking in, but by insiders with the insight, sensitivity and ability to tell those stories accurately and incisively. People of Accra: A Portrait In Time.

It is an important story. Our Story. A story we can all share.

–John W. Fountain

Next: A Brief Photo Slideshow Introduction followed by Abridged Stories and Other Media

Passing the Time at The Shop

Searching For Scrap Metal; No Place To Lay HIs Head"

By Rees Oduro Hakeem

Into The Busy Market: Scenes from Madina and Makola

Mildred Songsore Salia Reporting the Story

The Heartbeat of the City; Faces and Voices of the People of Accra

One Family United in Kenkey; Fortified by A Woman Called Grace"

By Josephine Awuku

Tell Me Your Story; Reporter Jacob Tetteh takes notes in the field

From Food to Fabrics; Merchants hawk their wares

Lessons And A Life In A Tomato"

By Joanna Mawusi Dogbey

The Streets are Alive with The Sound of Business

I Want To Hear Your Story"

Reporter Nana Frempong on the Beat

...Portraits of Merchants in the Streets of Accra

From Tomatoes to Onions to Potatoes; The sell of produce flows

The Evangelist; A Street Soldier for Christ"

By Michael Etrue

For One Tro Tro Driver: An Odyssey With Contentment"

By Dina Okyerebea

The Hustle and Bustle of The Marketplace

A Day In The Life Of Madina Market; Several Head Porters Rest Under A Foot Bridge With Their Babies" (In Photos)

By Samuella Quartey

COVER STORY: "One Family Struggles; Still Clinging to God and Hope"

By Emmanuella Amoafo Asante

"People of Accra"

A Portrait of Humanity

Labor...

Life...

Love and Laughter...

Hope amid Despair

People of Accra

People of Accra credits

CONTRIBUTORS: Adelaide Ayeaku Birikorang; Dillon Owusu Brown; Dina Okyerebea; Elorm Kofi Deh; Emmanuel Ako-Gyima; Emmanuella Amoafo Asante; Enid Araba AsamoahErnest Boakye Duodu; Frank Asiedu; Gertrude Oforiwaa Brako; Gifty Aboagye-Mensah; Hope Kwabena Akpabli; Jacob Tetteh; Joanna Mawusi Dogbey; John Kofi Dorgbefu; John Yaw Asare; Josephine Awuku; Joy Sena Anku; Juliana Kwofie; Juliet Takyiwaa Nyamekye; Lucy Ackah; Maame Efua Yamoawah Essel; Michael Etrue; Michele Dede Quarcoo; Mildred Songsore Salia; Nana Ama Hayfron; Nana Boakyewa Frempong; Nihad Suhuyini Sayibu; Philip Edwin Ansah; Rees Oduro Hakeem; Reward Feehi Kpokli; Salma Gifty Braimah; Samuel Kofi Kilinfingh; Samuel Terkpeh Otoo;Samuella Naa Oyoe Quartey; Sarah Pomaah; Shafiulahi Ibrahim; Theodora Mawufemor Aku Agbodeka; Theophilus Degenu Smith (Photo on left: John W. Fountain)

Project Edited and compiled by John W. Fountain)

A Place To Lay His Head

“The solace everyone is looking to find… is not to be shut away from the world in some safe place, but to be free in the world… wherever you are.” -Ron W. Rathbun

By Rees Oduro Hakeem

HIS SWEATY FACE AND DUSTY FEET give only an indication of the distance he had covered and yet had nothing to show for it, apart from his grease-stained navy-blue jeans matched with a gray shirt, a pair of black cycling gloves and black slippers. His two-wheeled metal cart, made from the condenser of refrigerators, pieces of plywood and metal bars, appeared in need of some maintenance.

And yet, a peace and calm covered his face. Not even the chirping of birds, the giggles and chatters of passersby or the occasional honk of passing vehicles distracted him from his sleep.

The grown-up weeds, garbage bin and the pungent smell of ammonia-smelling urine are clear indicators that this place is not meant for afternoon napping. But the feeling of despair exacerbated by tiredness can perhaps sometimes cause a man to do unthinkable things without taking into consideration the ripple effects. Perhaps the hustle shall surely pay one day. Perhaps not.

Every day, hundreds of scrap metal peddlers walk the streets of Ghana’s cities, towns and suburbs in search of these discarded as waste but very useful metals, with no idea where to find some. Propelled perhaps, or inspired, only by a strong sense of hope, they search

And in this one sleeping portrait of a man at peace amid the stench of human inhabitability lies a symbol of a large number of young men who migrate from the northern part of Ghana in search of greener pastures in the southern part, especially Accra and Kumasi, where making a livelihood by foraging for “condemned” metals can be elusive.

But at least, he had found sleep.

Day in The Life of Madina Market (photos)

By Samuella Quartey

(Top four photos) Scenes of the Madina Market unfold on a typical day. (Bottom photo) Reporter Samuella Quartey speaks with Fdela Yusif, a head porter with her baby boy strapped to her back.

The Evangelist; A Street Soldier for Christ

By Michael Etrue

HER MARKET PREACHING CALLS her to visit markets across Ghana in places like Madina, Nsawam, Accra, Lapaz, and Dome. To walk through sections of the market underneath the scorching sun.

Evangelist Gladys Tetteh preaches the Gospel in the open air, armed with only a megaphone and a Bible, and with young William, her son, strapped to her back with a cloth.

All in all, she said, she is satisfied with her work, despite challenges. Like being sacked by some traders offended by her preaching. But that’s not enough to make her quit. To dissuade or discourage her from the mission at hand.

“I am a soldier of Christ. Christ suffered the same way too,” Tetteh declared. “I will continue doing the work He has given to me.”

A Mother’s Hope: Better for Her Children

By Adelaide Ayeaku Birikorang

AT MAKOLA MARKET, ONE of Accra’s busiest, the street buzzes with the sounds of business and vehicles as petty traders, popularly referred to as market women, hawk food items and commodities. Among these women is Rosina Addai, a single mother of three, originally from Dormaa in the Bono Region.

Her only source of income comes from the sale of Scotch bonnet peppers and also onions at Makola Market, she says. She is the sole provider for her and her three children. Selling peppers is her livelihood.

Addai’s story is not unusual from many women at the market who find themselves working here and living day to day with the hope of eventually making a better life for themselves and for their families. But Addai’s story is also a tale of success, hard work and perseverance.

Recently she recounted how her first husband and father of two of her children left her after she had their second child, largely over his inability to meet their financial need, she says. Later, she says, she met another man with whom she had her third and youngest child.

But after he too deserted her, she says, she was left with the burden of having to be sole provider for her family. Addai recalled having to painstakingly gather money from different sources to be able to raise enough capital to start a business.

She also recalls for a long time being chased by her debtors after her first business of selling second-hand clothing failed. She says she managed, however, to pay off most of her debts after she started trading in food commodities.

Eventually, Addai says she narrowed her trade down to a single item: peppers. She found them more affordable to purchase in bulk because of their wide availability locally.

Ghanaians also happen to be fond of using peppers and onions in their cooking, which works in her favor. And Addai’s hub in Makola Market is situated close to other women whose produce complements hers, like the tomato seller.

Still, Addai admits how tough it gets sometimes, and that there are days when she makes very few sales. Then there’s the lack of funds to rent a market shed for days when it rains. On those days, she shelters beneath an old sun umbrella that has seen its best days. In fact, sometimes it is insufficient and Addai has to close up shop and leave the market early to avoid being beaten by rain.

Addai says she places her faith in God and believes that he will make a way for better opportunities, adding that being a single mother of three is a great responsibility and that she hopes she has the strength to continue to work to put her children through school.

Her children, she says, are her source of hope. So, she faithfully comes to the market each day to sell her onions and peppers amid the noise and bustle.

A Beggar at Bus Stop; Longing for Home

By Elorm Kofi Deh

Imagine. Imagine living a story similar to Joseph, son of Israel in the Bible, but without the happy ending—at least not one that Adamu Salifu Banson can see right now.

Imagine being a budding farmer and salesman one day and being a beggar on the street three months later. Imagine. Life seems to have turned for the worst for Banson. He considers the streets of Accra Airport Road his home and the “Airport Second” bus stop, his sleeping place.

He has no job, he says, and struggles for survival day by day. However, life was not always this way for the 28-year-old. Banson grew up in Bawku Pusiga in the Upper East Region of Ghana with his father and three half-brothers.

“This morning I begged a woman and she bought me bread worth two Ghana cedis."

“We have one father and different mothers my mother is no more, but their mother is still alive,” he explained. “Growing up with my brothers was good.” He recalled working on his father’s farm. “We planted dawa, (a plant used to make koko), cassava and onions, and animals.”

Life seemed normal for Banson. He says he and his brothers came to Accra for business purposes. “We brought goods, sheep, goats and fowls, to sell and go back and rented a room in Agbogbloshie market, Accra Central, for two weeks,” he recalled.

A week passed after sales and his brothers hadn’t shown up, he said, adding that he eventually learned from a sales associate that his brothers had squandered all their money on a gambling game without his knowledge, gathered some money and went to Bawku, leaving him behind.

He says he later confirmed the story from his buyer. “I don’t know why they would do this. At least they should have told me something," he said recently, speaking passionately. Soon he had to evacuate the room. “And that’s how the hustle started,” he said.

He currently walks the length and breadth of the Accra streets, begging people for food, money or work. He carries a jute bag, containing only a sleeping cloth, one change of clothes (jalabiya) and a sponge to bathe. Banson narrated his daily struggles: battling rain, the cold outdoors, and mosquitoes among others.

“Sometimes in the middle of the night, I wake up and stay awake for fear of being harmed,” he said. “This morning I begged a woman and she bought me bread worth two Ghana cedis. This afternoon, excuse me to say, I searched the dustbin over there (near a restaurant), and I found some leftovers.”

Through all of this, he says his only hope is “God.” His deepest desire, he says, is to return home. “I wish I had someone to just take me to the bus station. Don’t even give me the money, just pay for my bus fare.”

He says that to date he has found nobody to believe and help him.

Asked why he wants to go home, he said, “At home, we have goods and animals and my father is a farmer so I will not suffer.”

Despite circumstances, Banson still dreams of becoming a farmer like his father. He said, “I see that as a work of blessing because you can get food to help people.”

Despite Dreams Deferred, One Father Finds Hope and also a Living in Toothpaste

By Frank Asiedu

Simon Antwi answers questions from a potential buyer at Madina Zongo junction, which leads to the Madina Market.

IT’S SATURDAY MORNING IN APRIL, around 9 o’clock. The weather looks good for market business, not shiny, even though clouds appear to be gathering. At the Madina Zongo Junction traffic light towards Madina Market, pedestrians and vehicles jostle for space as the roads leading to the Madina Market are completely choked, restricting vehicular and also human movement to the frustration of motorists, commuters and others going to the market for weekend shopping.

Market women shout for customers to come to purchase their foodstuffs. Yogurt sellers blow their horns.

Head porters shout for the way to be cleared for them. Tro tro mates (bus conductors) bellow for the attention of potential passengers. Cars hoot. And police officers in patrol cars move to and fro, ensuring the security of sellers and buyers.

It is a busy day here at one of the largest markets in Accra, which attracts people from far and near, including from Kasoa in the Central Region of Ghana.

Here, at the market, you will also find Simon Antwi. He is a toothpaste seller. He is popularly known in the market as “Aluta.” He sells his products just opposite the Madina Police Station. Antwi, 41, has been selling toothpaste for more than a decade.

He has a wife with five children—two male, and three female, including twins. The eldest of his children is in senior high school, he says, with the second of his eldest in junior high, and the other three still in primary school.

Antwi is from Obuasi in the Ashanti Region of Ghana and works in Madina. Recently he recalled that while growing up, his dream was to join the Ghana Police Service and become an officer of the law. Due to financial hardship, however, he could not pursue an education beyond junior high school—something that he admits shattered his ambitions of someday becoming a police officer.

And yet, Antwi says he has decided not to allow his unrealized dream to prevent him from seeking to create a better future for his children. He also holds out hope that perhaps a son will fulfill his police dream.

Meanwhile, with proceeds from the sale of toothpaste and a small farm back in his village, he says he has been able to provide for all five of his children to attend school—the eldest in senior high school.

He says he has also opened a shop for his wife and has a four-bedroom, semi-completed apartment where he lives with his family.

Simon Antwi sells tooth paste amid his dreams deferred and the hope of making a better life for his children.

She Finds Lessons And A Life In A Tomato

By Joanna Mawusi Dogbey

Salomey Frimpong Darko, 43, sells tomatoes at Madina Market in Greater Accra, finding her way in a business that is highly competitive as other vendors compete to sell their wares at one of Accra’s largest markets.

It has not been easy, says Darko who is from Akyem Tafo in Ghana’s Eastern Region. She is of both Asante and Akuapem descent. Darko completed basic school in 1993 and could not further her education because of financial constraints, she said. Whether she found the business of selling tomatoes, or if tomato-selling success found her, is not clear.

But in Darko’s eyes, it certainly wasn’t luck. And she certainly has had her share of tests along the path to success. Her first test, she recalled, was when she suffered huge losses in sales and, as a result, incurred debt. She said she felt like quitting the trade at that point.

Eventually, however, she was able to repay her supplier who gave her more product to sell. Then she used the profits from subsequent sales to gradually pay off her debts, she explained. Since then, with lessons of the trade learned, she claims to have mastered the business.

“I have learnt to be extra careful and vigilant when sourcing for goods,” she said.

In fact, she carefully inspects her tomatoes before purchasing to make sure they are in good condition and form.

It is a strategy she says she did not know previously and therefore accepted whatever was offered to her then could not sell in the market because of the produce’s poor quality.

“Now I am eye red,” she said, her voice filled with joy. “I demand for quality goods and won’t settle for less.”

COVER STORY: One Family’s Struggles; Still Clinging to God and Hope Story and Photos

By Emmanuella Amoafo Asante

Obaa Yaa Sekyere, 71, grandmother of 23-year-old Nana Yaa Sekyere tells the story of family loss and tragedy with tears and anguish visible in her face.

HAVE YOU EVER HAD TO SLEEP under a bridge before? Have you ever had to take care of children you didn’t birth? Have you ever had to share a small wooden kiosk with four other people as a home?

This is the plight of 23-year-old Nana Yaa Sekyere who has had to be both mother and father to her deceased sister’s children while also taking care of an ailing grandmother. Recently she recalled having to immediately grow up at an early age and take on the responsibility of feeding four other mouths after her older sister died due to complications during the birth of one of her children.

Sekyere makes her living as a kayaye, one of the seemingly countless young women who work as head porters across Accra, carrying items, often heavy, upon their heads in the searing Ghana sun. She works at Ashaiman Market, although she previously hawked plantain chips around the Tema Motorway. With no job, a friend introduced her to the kayaye business, she recalled.

It was a turning point in her life’s journey—one that she said has had its share of hardship. She recalled how her father had abandoned her mother to marry another woman. How, in order to feed the family, her mother sold smoked fish for years then developed breast cancer before passing away in 2012.

She said that she and her elder sister, Ofosuaa, had to move in with their grandmother for about two years and that she never went beyond Class 6 because her grandmother could not afford to take her to school.

She explained how tough life was after moving from Kumasi to Accra for greener pastures. A friend had visited the family in Kumasi, Ayeduase, where they had lived all their lives, Sekyere recalled. The friend promised to help her and Ofosuaa land a job if they could follow her to Accra. Excited about the opportunity, she said, they packed a bag and hurriedly came to Ghana’s capital city with her.

Eventually, however, the sisters found themselves homeless and living under the Mile 7 Bridge for over a year, Sekyere said. While living there, she said, her sister got pregnant by a young man who lived under the bridge too.

Ofosuaa died in 2019 while giving birth to her son, Kpexor, she said.

More hardship befell the family in 2020, when Sekyere said she developed a stomach ulcer. Most of the money she earned from her sales at the time went to purchase medicine and she often found herself bedridden, in part, because she did not have money to eat. The whole ordeal has been a trial of her faith.

“I wonder if God still sees us because I am tired,” Sekyere said. “I wish I could believe that all will be well. Every time I choose to believe, something worse than what I am going through happens and I’m back to doubting God again.”

Today Sekyere lives in a small wooden structure at Ashaiman, the words, "Jesus Help Me Please" hand written in white on one of the small home's bare walls. Sekyere lives here with her grandmother, Obaa Yaa Sekyere, 71; her nephews, Kwasi Amexo, 11, and Kpexor Bernard Kwertey, 3; and her niece, Akosua Edinam Amexo, 14.

And despite the family's meager means, Sekyere still holds on to faith and the dream of someday becoming one of Ghana’s best seamstresses.

Indeed there is cause for one family's hope. Sekyere said she is ready to enroll her eldest nephew and her niece at a local community school before year’s end.

A smile spread across her face as the words fell from her lips, in the kiosk their family calls home, grateful to be out from under a bridge.

Home for the Sekyere family

Obaa Yaa Sekyere, 71, and her family rest at home.

The Lotto Agent: Not Just A Man’s World

By Hope Kwabena Akpabli

DISCOURAGED BY MANY PEOPLE, BUT still having faith in herself. That is the perhaps inspiring story of Donell Mavis, a female lotto agent at Madina Atomic Junction who has chosen to break the barrier and work in a male-dominated industry.

Mavis, 23, works as a lotto agent—a job that she relishes amid a lack of jobs in Accra.

“After searching for jobs, being a lotto agent was the only option I had,” Mavis said. “I chose to do this work because I feel it is good for me."

But when she started this journey a month ago, how did people react to what she felt good doing, especially since women don't typically work as lottery agents and the lottery business itself is frowned upon by many Christians?

"When I started this work, there was a lot of discouraging feedback, especially from the members of the church I attend,” Mavis recalled. “If they ask me the work I do and I tell them I'm a lotto agent, they tell me lotto is the Devil's work, so it’s not good."

But any criticism by members of her church, Mavis said, only fuels her determination to work to provide for herself.

“He who does not work shall not eat,” she said, citing II Thessalonians 3:10. “This is what I do to feed myself and it’s good for me.

“Even God says the hand that does not work, should not eat,” Mavis added. “So, this is what I have. So, I don't let anybody’s comment discourage me."

One Family United in Kenkey and Fortified By A Woman Called Grace

By Josephine Awuku

THE YOUNG WOMAN CONSTANTLY WIPES sweat from her forehead as she packs balls of kenkey into two separate chests in Bohye. Standing alongside the ongoing packing, she bellows orders to various workers underneath the shed.

“Separate the shito from the onions!” Grace Dorkor shouts to a worker.

These workers help out with various tasks. Some fry fish, some prepare the kenkey, and others prepare the truck to transport the food to the venue. This has been the scene of every other evening for the Dorkor family for the past 13 years.

Dorkor’s family consists of her mother and four siblings. Every member of the family is involved in the kenkey business. In fact, all in then family run shifts to help their mother sell kenkey, both at home and at a taxi station.

Grace Dorkor, 24, is her mother’s only daughter and the fourth born among her siblings. But it is her task to make sure her siblings are ready every day to attend to their customers.

“All my siblings and I work other jobs but we still run shifts to sell Kenkey to support the family,” she said. “I do the cooking, sometimes I go for the selling or my brother helps. We run shifts.”

She wears other hats as well. She works as a baker, sells clothes and also works with the Ghana Cocoa Board (COCOBOD), selling their products such as chocolate, she said.

But her main work is the family business. In fact, the Dorkor family is known to be the main producer of kenkey in Bohye. It is simply a family affair.

A Day In The Life of The Madina Market

By Dina Okyerebea

THE COLORFUL SIGHTS AND HAPPENINGS OF a typical day at Madina Market include displaying their wares, restocking and the exchanges between merchants and those who venture into the marketplace. Among the constant figures present are Suleman Abudu and his tro tro conductor.

For One Tro Tro Driver: An Odyssey With Contentment story and photos

By Theodora Aku Mawufemor Agbodeka

HE’S KNOWN AS “CHAIRMAN TONY.” That’s what everyone around here calls him. It’s a title he earned after 32 years of consistency, diligence, and many sacrifices as a bus driver, he says, he became chairman of the Ghana Private Road Transport Union (Medina-Newtown Bus terminal). His real name is Abdul Shafiq Ibrahim. This is his story.

Ibrahim, 52, from Kwae (Volta North region) was born in 1970 in Tema, in the Greater Accra region of Ghana. Islamic born and bred, he lived a few years with his parents and moved to Medina, Zongo, with his uncle, Ibrahim recalled. He said he began his basic education at Labone International School and was later transferred to the Atomic Energy School, both in Medina, Accra. He recalled earning the opportunity to be among the selected few in his class for his school’s exchange program.

“I was lucky they added me to that batch,” he said.

The exchange program was organized for students in both Ghana and Cuba by both governments. However, Ibrahim said his father could not afford the travel fees.

“We tried everything but he was reluctant to take further steps in making the payments,” Ibrahim recalled with disappointment. “I began to hate my father because he had ruined my future.”

Still, he completed his basic level of education while living with his uncle and had aspired to be a military officer in the future. Those dreams, however, were short-lived, he said, as he had no one to assist him to pay his fees. Then he was invited by his sister’s husband to learn a trade. After much persuasion, he agreed to join his brother-in-law in the transport business.

“This was the day my life in the transport business began,” Ibrahim said, adding that he decided to work his way up the ladder in the transportation business. At about 20 years old, he was hired by a “bank manager” to be a personal chauffeur and also to drive his public transport vehicle, which lasted 12 years.

His work ethic pleased the bank manager so much, he said, that he chose to rename the Islamic-born and raised driver, “Tony” after his own son whom he agreed shared similar traits. After years in the business, “Tony,” as Ibrahim later came to be called by many, matriculated from a “bus mate” to a chief driver. And in that time, he has raised two children with his wife, he said.

He has trained several drivers and “mates” and has built relationships with many others at the Central Medina Zongo (Medina to Newtown Bus Terminal). He said his experiences have taught him much more about life and that his religion has guarded his life’s choices, even the harshest of them, and earned him the position of chairmanship at the bus station.

“Chairman Tony” credits his belief in Allah for bringing him through tough seasons of rejection, financial hardships, and even family issues, adding that he always trusts in “the miracles of God” and is duly content with whatever life throws at him.

And he still believes the future has even more in store for him.

“Should I get the help, I will still want to further my education and even apply to the military academy,” he said.

He plans to stick with it.

"Chairman Tony" chatting it up and laughing with friends

The Story of The ‘Kayayo’; More Than Meets The Eye

By Juliana Kwofie

It is difficult to not notice the ladies, carrying objects that appear to be triple their weight on their heads across Madina Market in Accra. Kayayo is their name. Kayayei is their plural.

They are the young women, especially girls, from Ghana and the country’s northern rural districts who comprise this group, and who dot the markets, terminals and streets, toting their load on their heads and often their babies in cloths on their backs.

They may look the same, bear a certain familiarity in their balancing act of labor and grace. Beneath their crowns and behind their faces, however, are myriad personal backstories. Kayayo means “girl-carrier” in the Ga language. In Hausa, kaya means: weight, luggage, good, or burden. Yei means woman or female.

In search of a better life, many travel from their faraway communities, even other African countries, to work in bustling cities such as Accra or Kumasi, drawn by the hope that life in the big city offers job opportunities and a better life.

Only to soon learn that this is not necessarily the case. That the life of the Kayayo can be a hard life, one in which each woman daily carries her own load, often for little pay, though always appearing soon after the sun rises in the city each day.

Faith; Nigerian Woman Finds the Substance of Things Hoped For

By John Yaw Asare

FAITH ONWANGO, 22, PLIES HER TRADE at the Madina tro tro station in the heat of the crowded market. She is Nigerian and came to Ghana only a few months ago, she said, after her quest to find a job in her home country proved futile.

As is the story of many firstborns in Africa who enter a world of poverty and hardship followed sometimes by tragedies that can thrust a child too early into a world of adult responsibility, Faith’s education came to a halt after her father died, she said. She had to step in to fill her father’s shoes as a caretaker of her younger siblings, especially because her mother was incapable of looking after them.

This is a story about a woman called Faith. A young woman who has found a legitimate means of survival, even in an era where the cry and search for employment often go unfulfilled. It is the story of a determined woman who would not relent, and who did not give up on her dream of making it in life, but who turned to selling clothes, Pakka trousers to be precise.

On advice from a friend, she moved to Ghana to stay with friends, and knowing her mission of finding work, she started selling anything she could lay her hands on, including bags. She has now settled on Pakka trousers and other clothes in Madina—first working for someone, and now, for herself, with a shed of her own.

Life at New Bortianor Junction

By John Kofi Dorgbefu

The area was quiet, without many human activities and crowded with filthy old kiosks and rusting metal containers.

Still, there was sign of a few traders, some conversing among themselves about Ghana’s economy, here amid signs of despair and poverty and stagnant business. For many here, life is akin to walking on a tight rope without a circus net.

Across the road, fleets of empty taxis stood empty as some of the drivers sat, idling while others still slept on benches underneath a tattered shed. Life here seems cold, cheerless.

Inside a nearby taxi station, there were no signs of business. A nearby gutter choked the air with an uncontrollable stench.

And yet, not far away a section of the community shone in contrast—green lawns, and colorful flowers and trees, a teasing reminder of the disparity of life at New Bortianor Junction.

A Fisherman’s Tale: Faith, Hope and A Good Catch story and photos

By Gifty Aboagye-Mensah

Every day, at 5 a.m., Seth Annor is among three to four gallant men who leave the comfort of their beds in Bortianor-Oshie to face the rough and cold winds at sea to go fishing.

On a bright Wednesday morning, there were no signs of rain. But the whole place looked deserted. There would be no fishing that morning. The reason: The “sea was spoilt.”

In fishermen’s terms, that meant there was a high volume of water, and the waves were big and rough so that it was not advisable to go fishing with the sea in turmoil—something that fishermen here said happens quite often.

He doesn’t want any of his children, however, to join him in his business..."

On this day, they sat at the beach chatting about everything and nothing at the same time. The fish that were being sold nearby by women who got them from Tema Fishing Harbour. From all indications, this happens quiet often and it is a worry to the fishermen.

Still, they were hopeful of catching their own fish and making some money before the season ends and the Ministry of Fisheries and Aquaculture announces the close of the sea in July. The uncertainty in the air left them feeling pensive.

Seth Annor, 45, has been a fisherman for more than 25 years. He said he joined the business at a tender age, managing to survive the dangers, even though he now faces difficult days in the trade.

His method of fishing is simple. He and other local fishermen like him use a hook and line to catch fish. They carry along on their fishing voyages an old fridge and ice to preserve the fish at sea.

Annor said that during bumper harvest, they make a lot of money. But during the raining season or off-season when they cannot go fishing, he goes to work on the farm at a neighboring Tuba, a town where farming is common. During this time, however, according to Annor, the women go to Tema to buy fish from the harbor.

He admits that things are difficult these days and that he and other fishermen like him have to rely on loans to buy basic things they need to ply their trade. He hopes that someday soon a nearby stream can be turned into a fishpond so that during the off-season the community can rely on it for their livelihood.

Annor is married with three children. He doesn’t want any of his children, however, to join him in his business for two main reasons in his estimation: Too risky and not rewarding. In fact, he plans to sell the two canoes he has managed to acquire once he’s ready to retire from the business.

Annor is not without those who admire his hard work ethic and what has managed to achieve for himself. Nii Amasah, a friend, described Annor as generous and a deep thinker and someone they all look up to in their fishing community determined to survive, come what may.

Seth Annor, a fisherman in Bortianor-Oshie shown here says he does not want any of his three children to follow him into the business.

A woman under her shed sells the fish she bought from Tema Fishing Harbor, since there was none at the Bortianor – Oshie Beach.

Fishing canoes sit idle as the sea one morning is "spoilt."

The old fridge the fishermen must carry along to preserve the fish.

Seth Annor and His friend Nii Amasah make repairs.

The presence of canoes and the absence of work and fishermen indicate that the raging waters are too risky today for fishermen.

Between The Lanes; Street Hawkers Walk Tightrope Between Livelihood and Death story and photographs By

Philp Edwin Ansah

The “What ifs” of Ataah’s trade are existential: What if she accidentally trips, spills the wares and the traffic light turns green, the automobiles move?"

CHRISTIAN ATAAH, BORN A TWIN, EXHIBITS enterprise, plying a trade in confectionary on the often perilous, traffic-cluttered streets of Madina, where street hawkers dodge motorbikes and motorists often with harrowing frequency.

For Ataah and others like her, saddled with their wares atop their heads, danger is simply a fact of life as they seek to make a living in the heart of Accra for their families with visions of hope and a dream. Born May 19, 1983, Ataah is from Dawu-Akropong. She has been married twice, she says, and is mother to three daughters.

Her dream, she says, speaking in native Akuapem Twi: “I want my children to have good education and marry good men.”

Ataah recalls quitting school as a girl to help with petty trading at the market to help take care of her family—her life jolted by the incapacitation of her mother. She moved from one petty trade to another, eventually moving from her hometown to Madina.

Today at 39, she describes herself, as an “out and out, a trader,” and “God fearing.” Romans 8:32 is her mantra that she says motivates her. “He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all – how will he not also, along with him give us all things.”

On a typical day hawking, she carries the confectionary, both hands occupied with other items. When the traffic light signals red, Ataah and a sea of hawkers besiege the lanes. When the traffic signal turns green, they hurriedly take cover by the concrete median.

The “What ifs” of Ataah’s trade are existential: What if she accidentally trips, spills the wares and the traffic light turns green, the automobiles move? What if a melee ensues on the scene?

This is not conjecture. In 2001, a newspaper vendor on the streets at Legon lost his life in a road melee, falling victim one of the innumerable possible “what ifs” that vendors brave each day they take their wares and their lives into the middle of busy Accra streets, sidestepping, sometimes without a second to spare, an oncoming automobile or motorbike.

What if an automobile skids off and rams into the concrete median? What if an automobile loses its brakes? What if a rogue driver or a fugitive is being pursued by the police, or a truck carrying explosives happens to collide with a motorbike and erupts in deadly catastrophe?

Everyday their livelihoods and their lives are at stake amid the perils of the streets. And yet, Ataah emerges each day, braves the dangers with her wares in tow. Out her, she earns the admiration of her peers for mustering enterprise and the audacity to self-start.

Out here, she earns empathy for braving the odds and also the drudgery of conducting her daily trade beneath the blazing sun that is no more merciful than the unrelenting perils on this tightrope between a livelihood and death.

People of Accra Finale Photo Gallery

Photo collective by Jacob Tetteh; Dillon Brown; Emmanuel Ako-Gyima; Joy Sena Anku; Juliet Takyiwaa Nyamekye; Maame Efua Yamoawah; Michelle Dede Quarcoo; Mildred Songsore Salia; Sarah Pomaah

Thank You for Visiting

With Gratitude, Admiration and Appreciation

for the People of Accra

Project Edited and Compiled

In Accra, Ghana—By John W. Fountain 2021-2022 Fulbright Scholar Professor, Roosevelt University