Foreign Direct Investment and Ghanaian hospitality

Ghana's Seat of Government

Approximately 10 years back

A noisy group all in denim trousers cut to knee length, slippers and fading T-shirts. They entered the restaurant with an air of familiarity, strutted around looking for a table and roughly dragged the chairs to sit when they found a spot. The restaurant owner or manager came out to chit chat for a few minutes and their food was already on the way. I was eating at one of the growing number of spice infested restaurants at the port city nearby so the group seemed not so out of place. They ate their rice quickly with sticks and bare hands and wiped their foreheads and mouths with their arms. I excused them; these looked like seafarers and they would be gone by daybreak, I thought. 

4 years ago

I came upon the intriguing sight of a lone light skinned male with short, shiny but bristly hair, busily setting up shop at 6am as I reached the traffic lights on the main road. Even the koko (local porridge) seller was only just preparing her fire. His small weather beaten white car was parked on the side of the road. Its boot, opened to the traffic displayed his wares - electric irons and kettles. His location showed he knew the city well. The busy Spintex Road runs through a light industrial area littered with estate homes, factories and various enterprises. Many of the growing middle class live along this road. The man moved meticulously and quickly as he dusted the goodies in the car boot. Oriental, I figured as I went past him. Something awful must have happened to him. He won’t be here long, I thought. I drove off and forgot about him till now.

A year ago

I finally accepted that Dumso (the all powerful whose favourite pastime is to switch our electricity on and off at will) was here to stay so I went shopping for a generator. The search for a relatively low capacity, fuel efficient, truly silent original make took me to an enclosed parcel of land about 2 acres big in the city centre; inconspicuous until the rusty metal gates opened to admit a visitor. I drove some 50 metres from the gate to a clearing in the middle of the weedy space where a large metal container and a small house tucked at its side were located. Among the three young men hanging about was my contact.

The container housed some generators so I figured this was a warehouse but I was told it was the showroom of the company, enterprise, or whatever was going on there. “In a month we will have what you want” said the contact. “We stock only genuine KIPOR machines and we are the main distributors of genuine KIPOR generators in this country”, he continued. Just in that moment, 2 Chinese males came out of the adjoining small house. One carried a hot cup of tea. The pair sat down in the porch of the little house, lit cigarettes and began chattering as if to give credence to the contact’s assurances. I think more likely to keep an eye on business.  I couldn’t quite figure out the set-up but I wondered if this alliance was the source of many small generators on sale along the city’s roads. Perhaps a onetime opportunist venture not meant to last, I thought.

Along the way and in between

They constructed roads and built glass edifices with grants from their governments. In the evenings, they sat in neighbourhood pubs and laughed at jokes with the locals - our benefactors. Advertisements on where to find acupuncture services and ginseng products started showing up in the newspapers.

AU Building Under Construction

Soon they were running restaurants from rented houses located in quiet residential areas. The locals wait on patrons and cook; the proprietors stay silent in the inner office or behind the counter. Theirs is to prepare the bill, receive the money and open the door to let you out with a well rehearsed thank you. But the food served in these restaurants taste nothing like those I remember from the Ambassador and Continental hotels in my childhood days. I was a kid then but my friends who travel confirm that food from these restaurants cannot be compared to the real thing. To explain my friends ask me to imagine myself setting up a restaurant that serves one of our native dishes in a far away country. What would my customers know?

Anyway the restaurant business got chocked with locals, Indians, Lebanese, Nigerians, all serving assorted fried rice in addition to their native specialties. That was okay because we made middle income status, we found oil, mining continued and more lucrative openings emerged for those who dared.

Now

They are leaving in droves! Their government has asked our government to send them back home in a humane manner. But why do we have to send them back when they could as well do as they did coming in – by themselves? We are not known to chase the visitor out who came knocking even at the back door. Besides, they have been our friends and benefactors have they not? Their relatives back home say we have turned on them. But why, if that is true have we done that?

A few weeks ago our government deported close to 200 foreigners. It was reported that they were illegal miners, some of whom had turned on our people with guns. Many of our friends were among those that left. Barely a week ago, hundreds of them were being processed at the airport to leave the country. On TV I saw many of them queue to turn themselves in for deportation.

Fascinating turn of events; when did these hundreds arrive and how? If we had known about their arrival would we not have given them a fitting welcome as is our tradition? Or perhaps we did. And why are they leaving so suddenly, in such huge numbers and in such a hurry? We never complained about their presence so why now and why them? Have many other peoples from far and near not lived with us for even longer and our people in other lands?

Maybe it’s not about them. Maybe it’s about something they did. Something even people like us could not contain.