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Of citizenship and other
matters
E. Ablorh-Odjidja
December 14, 2015
A Ghanaian woman, her white American husband and two US born
teenage daughters go on a vacation trip to Ghana. While
there, they decide to visit the Nkrumah Mausoleum. Their
collective experience at the entrance becomes a matter of
citizenship rights.
The entrance fee is fixed at two levels. One for Ghanaians
and the slightly higher one for non-citizens or foreigners.
What follows, with the usual curious onlookers
around, may sound or seem comical, but it hides a problem
that undergirds many aspects of blind bureaucratic practices in
Ghana.
The mixed family definitely does not appear needy. They can
easily afford the higher price set for foreigners. But what
they want most at that moment is to have their daughters
accepted as Ghanaians.
And indeed, the daughters do qualify as Ghanaians on account
of their mother being one.
For the daughters, the experience at the gate is beginning
to be a disappointment. The trip to Ghana, envisaged as an
opportunity for acceptance and chance for affirmation of
part of their heritage, has become a downer. A chance to
bath in the glory of all that their mother has always
insisted on is being denied them by this woman at the gate.
This gatekeeper is resolute in denying them their claim as
citizens, or the potential of being one; a fact that has
already been affirmed by the 1992 Constitution.
This Constitution says, " a person born in or outside Ghana
after the coming into force of this Constitution, shall
become a citizen of Ghana at the date of his birth if either
of his parents or grandparents is or was a citizen."
That means regardless of where the two daughters were born,
once the requirements of parenthood are met on the say so of
a Ghanaian parent, they become Ghanaian citizen with rights
such as the one being denied now at the Mausoleum.
The father is not claiming citizenship. It is their mother
who is the Ghanaian citizen. But this gatekeeper is
more anxious to enforce her rule, rather than using her
discretion to give them a pass.
The Ghanaian mother is shocked by the abrupt classification
of her daughters as foreigners. She has brought them
purposefully to
Ghana as Ghanaians. Suddenly, access has
inadvertently become a hurdle for citizenship claim at the
Mausoleum.
The father is in agreement with the mother. Ghana, just like
America, must also be home. But why the citizenship denial
for these girls?
So the mother proceeds to introduce herself and family to
the gatekeeper in a crisp local language. her husband is
American and these are her two daughters -mentioning the
girls’ local names in the process - a customary Ghanaian
undertaking.
You may think this is a moment when a simple “Akwaaba” may
be useful. But not for this gatekeeper.
To her, the father is white and so, obviously, could not be
a Ghanaian. The mother, by the gatekeeper's logic, is black,
therefore, can be a Ghanaian. The daughters, however, are not.
They are foreigners.
You may argue about the "why" of a citizenship requirement
for a visit to the Mausoleum. You may come up with a subsidy
reason for the lower fare for Ghanaians. And you may
conclude that the demand is right or a waste of time.
But what must not escape your attention is the robotic
handling of the matter at the gate. To allow that to happen
is to miss a serious happenstance - the grim effect that can
be caused by misapprehension and excessive bureaucracy.
This experience at the Mausoleum reflects negatively on the
tourist trade in Ghana.
The gatekeeper, a public servant, is provoking a spectacle
with her obstinacy and unique understanding of her duties
when the use of a little discretion on her part could have
been more rewarding.
But this may not be entirely her fault.
Hidden in her obstinacy is the lack of proper customer
service training for those who interact with customers or
the general public. In this one instance, she reveals the
ill preparations some of our public servants go through
before they show up in public places to embarrass us.
The price of entry is not what is at stake at the Mausoleum
gate. The family can afford that. What they want for
their Ghanaian heritage daughters is the pride of recognition.
The mother has already amply demonstrated her qualification
as a Ghanaian. A little courtesy and the benefit of doubt on
the gatekeeper’s part may be all that is required.
But it doesn’t happen.
Plainly speaking, the gatekeeper’s approach - a poor
customer service attitude - is one that is destructive for
the financial health of the Mausoleum and that of the
overall tourist trade.
The idea of a show of citizenship at the Mausoleum is not only
absurd but very discouraging for people such as those in the Diaspora.
They
are more likely to visit the Mausoleum and spend more money (than citizens).
It tells them, "You don't belong here."
Good customer service is extremely essential for a place
like the Mausoleum because it buys the perception of
hospitality.
And the idea of one price for entry at the Mausoleum should
not be disputable. It must be applicable to all
visitors. The little drop in revenue that may result can be regained
in many creative ways once the tourist is inside the
premises.
The humorous part of this story is when the driver of the
family who is also doubling as their tour guide decides to
intercede on their behalf.
The driver calmly explains to the gatekeeper the citizenship
entitlement of children from mixed parents by using the
Rawlings as example.
Do you know who Rawlings is?.
And, of course, she does.
Then please explain how Rawlings became a Ghanaian president
since his father was white?
Former President Jerry Rawlings comes from a mixed
parentage. His mother is a Ghanaian. Whether this influenced
the writing of the 1992 Constitution or not is beside the
point here. He satisfied the citizenship demand for the
presidency in the 1992 election, after having already ruled
the country for eleven years as a Ghanaian military leader.
Rawlings' daughter just won the NDC parliamentary primaries
in preparation for the 2016 elections; no question raised
about her citizenship.
Still, the gatekeeper refuses to be impressed. Her obvious
but unspoken reason is because the father is white. The
mother's plea in the local language is no more audible than
the atmospheric noise surrounding her as she is empowered by
the impossibility of the family returning home to retrieve a
documented proof of citizenship for now.
But who says this little inconvenience for the family cannot
be removed by a dash?
Meanwhile, the father watches uncomfortably from the side.
As comical as the situation is, he is not amused. He cannot
help being embarrassed by the idea that onlookers may
misconstrue his intention and think
that he is so cheap he wants to avoid paying the full entry
fee for his family.
For the mother, it is not the price. It is her pride and the
principle behind it.
The daughters are also not amused. Some damage is being done
to their perception of the dual citizenship status that their
mother has always claimed for them.
For now, however, they are all experiencing a portion of our
bureaucratic life in Ghana; the uncertainty and the
confusion embedded in it all.
E. Ablorh-Odjidja, Publisher www.ghanadot.com,
Washington, DC, December 14, 2015.
Permission to publish: Please feel free to publish or
reproduce, with credits, unedited. If posted at a website,
email a copy of the web page to publisher@ghanadot.com . Or
don't publish at all.
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