On my recent trip to Ghana, I took the wheel myself—I drove myself. From the buzzing streets of Accra to the coastal calm of Cape Coast, then deep inland to Kumasi. But I didn’t just arrive in Kumasi—I owned those streets. Bantama, Asafo, Kwadaso, Kejetia… you name it. I navigated it all. And yes, I even braved the madness of Adum and the infamous Kejetia roundabout. Most folks looked at me like I was wild for trying it, but I smiled. Why? Because I’m a Kejetia boy. No GPS, no fear—just vibes and muscle memory.
Sometimes, I had to pay my way just to get access—because the services that should be provided by the city are often handled by everyday people who are simply trying to survive. It’s the new normal.
But this trip wasn’t just about nostalgia or dodging potholes. This time, something hit different. I saw Ghana not as one nation—but as five or six, all layered on top of each other, coexisting but rarely intersecting. Same country, different realities. Here’s what I saw:
1. The Political Elite Class
These are the big players—the politicians, their families, and the powerful few in their circles. To them, Ghana is a place of endless opportunity. They move in siren-blaring convoys, live behind fortress-like walls with private security and backup generators, and enjoy perks most Ghanaians can’t even imagine. Their kids go to international schools. They travel with diplomatic passports. Their Ghana is polished, air-conditioned, and far removed from the chaos of daily life.
2. The Rich Class (Your East Legon Executives and Friends etc)
This group overlaps with the political elite but also includes CEOs, property moguls, influencers, and thriving entrepreneurs. They’re the ones who shop in Dubai, dine in upscale restaurants in Accra, and share their lives on Instagram like it’s a lifestyle magazine. Fuel shortages? Load shedding? Public hospitals? Not their problem—they have options. For them, Ghana is a playground of untapped investment and luxury convenience.
3. The WhatsApp Class
Now this group is interesting. They’re not always wealthy, but they’re deeply connected—digitally, at least. Their world is built around WhatsApp, Twitter (X), TikTok, and Facebook. They’re hyper-informed—or think they are. They debate everything from elections to football in group chats. One person might fly from Accra to Kumasi but still claim to know exactly what’s happening on the Accra-Kumasi road. Their Ghana is filtered through trending posts, viral videos, and forwarded voice notes. Reality? Sometimes blurry.
4. The Radio & TV Crowd
This is the analog crew. They wake up with morning shows and fall asleep to late-night political debates. Their worldview is shaped by radio talk shows, TV panel discussions, and whatever headline is screamed the loudest. There’s passion, no doubt—but also a lot of misinformation and recycled drama. Still, their opinions shape national narratives more than you’d think.
5. The “Pray-for-a-Miracle” Crowd
This is a Ghana powered by faith. Churches are always full weekdays, weekends, overnight services. People are fasting, praying, tithing, and sowing seeds with the hope that a miracle will turn things around. Job? Visa? Healing? Breakthrough? They believe it’s coming. Faith is beautiful—but sometimes, it replaces the push for practical, systemic change.
6. The Everyday Working Class (Always on the Hustle)
This is the real heartbeat of Ghana. The people you see in trotro stations, selling at markets, fixing phones, riding okadas, tailoring, cooking, sweeping—just grinding every day. They don’t have the luxury of choice, but they have resilience and heart. They’re always looking for a connection, a plug, a “someone who knows someone.” That one call that could change everything. They carry the weight of the nation on their backs—but rarely get the credit.
One Nation, Many Realities
It’s wild. We all claim Ghana, but live in completely different versions of it. We stand in the same bank lines, buy from the same street vendors, sit in the same traffic—but the gap in our experiences is massive.
That’s the Ghana I saw this time. A country that’s vibrant, complex, and full of promise—but also deeply divided by access, class, and perspective.
And so I ask myself—and maybe you too—how do we connect across these realities? How do we build a Ghana that’s fair, inclusive, and true to its full potential?
May God bless our homeland Ghana.
May she rise with all her people—not just a privileged few.
