October 19, 2009
The cab of our pickup was packed with four grown men and myself. There were another four men in the box of the pickup, and another pickup following us with the same arrangement (less the Canadian girl). It took us nearly two hours to make our way down the 20km of horrible road filled with giant mudholes and other hazards. We were going to Kui.
Kui is a place I’ve heard lots about around the District Assembly. It’s a settlement about 100 km from my town of Bole and it’s home to a small scale illegal gold surface mining operation. Everyone’s been spreading stories about the place – how the population is that of a city and isn’t just Ghanaian, but also people from nearby Togo, Benin, Cote D’Ivoire, Burkina Faso, and Nigeria; how the money flows more than water; how you can buy anything you want; and how the place is overrun with social problems like prostitution, HIV/AIDS, and robbery.
I was going to Kui in a small convoy. We had Immigration Officers, the District Police Chief, some District Assembly staff, some elected Assembly Members, and the Chief of a nearby town who used to be the acting chief of Kui itself. And the random white Canadian girl. The purpose of our trip was to go and visit the people in Kui and tell them that the District Assembly wasn’t interested in shutting down their illegal operations, but instead wanted to help them legalize and obtain licenses for their activities. And that the assembly wanted to begin collecting taxes from the massive amount of money being made there.
A Sore Sight
We finally arrived in Kui after a truck ride that gave me bruises. Most days in Ghana I see sights that tug at my heartstrings, but this day was overwhelming. The settlement looked like a refugee camp. All the shelters were made from thatched grass held up by broken branches. Some had plastic sheets covering them to provide a bit of protection from the rain. There was garbage everywhere and no latrines or sanitation facilities to speak of. A lack of sanitation isn’t uncommon in Ghana, but perhaps here it was magnified because all the grass and trees had been removed to make houses or to dig through the sand for gold.
Most of the other stories I had heard about Kui seemed to be true. The place was huge and I don’t doubt that the population was larger than the 10,000 or so that are in Bole. The shelters were all arranged haphazardly and were crammed between large piles of sand or deep cuts through the earth – all results of the surface mining. The main path through the shelters was lined with makeshift stands selling all kinds of things that you can only buy in larger Ghanaian cities – even the food we were served for lunch can’t be bought in Bole. There were hundreds of crates stacked up with empty beer bottles, and even a chalkboard outside a drinking area that advertised the times of upcoming football matches they were showing on TV (there’s no electricity to Kui, but apparently no shortage of generators).
We arrived at the Chief’s Palace (a thatched grass roof held up with sticks and no walls), and were all seated in a giant circle of about 20 people. As the white girl, I was seated beside the Chief. Another 50 or 60 people gathered around our circle to listen to our meeting.
Forced Participation
The meeting was conducted with the formalities of a typical Ghanaian meeting, and there was a translator in the middle broadcasting everything which was said to the rest of the crowd in one of the local languages. The message was delivered to the people, and no complaints were heard. After most people in the meeting had spoken, the meeting chair turned to me and asked for my contribution.
“Sister, do you have anything you would like to say?”
“No – thank you sir, I am here to listen and learn”
“But you must say something”. Oh crap.
Nothing like being put on the spot. I’ve come to understand that the fact that I’m white means that people expect me to have answers when I come to meetings, and that they also expect me to make contributions whether I like it or not. So I did my best to provide an analogy of Fort McMurray, and how when a community is formed of people from many different places that no one will treat it as their home and the result is a place which no one wants to live. I urged them to come together as a community and work with the District Assembly to make it a better place to live whilst they are there trying to earn a living. Big and vague words with little tangible meaning – the best I could do while trying to think on my feet in front of the huge crowd. Who knows what the translator told everyone I said. Insert polite clapping for the white girl here.
An Interruption
At one point, our meeting was broken by a large and very muscle bound man sprinting into our circle and diving to take cover at the feet of the Chief (right next to me, while I silently freaked out in my chair). A couple of other men chased him into the circle and stopped when they saw the man was sitting at the feet of the Chief. In a couple of minutes there were five men in total, all angry and cut on their faces from fighting. The police chief and immigration officers got them all up and made them carry giant logs around town in the dead heat of the day. They all returned about 15 minutes later, sweating and collapsing from exhaustion. The police chief gave them a lecture:
“You have no jobs so you come here looking for something small to eat. And now look what you are doing to each other. None of you are sober enough to say anything of value to the people gathered here so go and sleep. If you continue this, we will come and take you to Bole [to the prison].”
I am still haunted by the face of one of the men sitting on the ground. Bleeding, sweating, he looked like he was about to cry. He glanced at me and I swear I had met him in Bole but I couldn’t place exactly where. And now here he was, drawn to this terrible place in hopes of earning some money but just ending up in trouble.
Private Sector vs. Public Sector in Development
I firmly believe that Ghana needs private sector development to move out of poverty. But it also struck me that this town is the result of breakneck speed private sector development without any government intervention. Any service that can generate a profit for someone has been catered for, as evidenced by the luxuries like ice cream being sold from generator powered freezers. But the less glamorous services, or those that require a community effort such as fixing roads, providing sanitation, education, or basic health care have been neglected.
The private sector – a small mining company from Malta - has provided a single borehole for water and they make around GHc1,000 ($720 CAN) per day from selling water - a good sum of money in Ghana. At first I was angry that the people were being charged for the water. But I quickly realized that before this well was drilled, the only water available to drink was dirty ditch water. I also realized that the local government wasn’t in the position to provide these types of services to Kui because:
1. The borehole at that location reportedly cost GHc25,000 (around $18,000 CAN - although I question this amt, it's very high). They simply don’t have this type of money.
2. Even if they had the money, the bureaucracy is slow and it would take several months to mobilize resources to drill a well, and
3. I’m not convinced that people in a very temporary mining town should be prioritized for government spending over those who live in permanent settlements and still don’t benefit from public services.
Kui’s Contribution to Development
Nothing operates in isolation, and Kui definitely contributes to the bigger picture of development in Ghana. Kui is providing jobs for the thousands of people without jobs. This is great if they take the opportunity to go and work, earn an income, save some money, and support themselves into school or other business after they leave Kui. But unfortunately I think this will be the exception rather than the standard.
I’ve heard stories of women’s groups being educated in local programs in their communities to produce shea butter and use it as an income generating activity. When the trainer went to deliver the certificates to the women, they had all gone to Kui. School aged children leave school to go there and carry water, or are even forced to go because their parents take them there. They’re often swept into the sex trade. People diagnosed with HIV leave their home communities because of the social stigma attached to the positive diagnosis, so they go to Kui where no one knows they are positive and they continue to spread the disease there. Any diseases contracted at Kui will also be multiplied throughout the home communities of the workers when they return. People also become accustomed to earning mining salaries and then when they leave the mine, they turn to robbery or crime to support their lifestyles.
Importance of Corporate Social Responsibility
I don’t know a lot about mining communities or boom and bust cycles, but the importance of the private sector providing services to the people who live in these communities and conduct the mining is evident. Communities like these in Canada, such as Fort McMurray (where I spent a total of three cold, dark, and depressing months), are stigmatized as unpleasant places to be. But here in Ghana and in other developing countries, these places are a collection of desperation. There really are no other job options as there is such a lack of private sector development throughout the nation and public sector employment is saturated. For the first time in many people’s lives they have a chance to collect something that resembles a steady income – and a significant income at that. Their governments can’t respond quickly with infrastructure and necessary services do things like prevent disease, provide safe water, or security for the citizens of the settlement. Even our rich Albertan government can’t keep up with Fort Mac, so how can we expect governments of developing countries to be equipped to respond?
Unfortunately for Kui, with the exception of the one man Maltese company mentioned above, there are no companies who are mining there. The operations are an ad-hoc free for all, loosely organized by individuals in some sort of power structure I have yet to figure out. I don’t know why there are no companies there – maybe the deposits are not big enough to warrant significant private investment. I’m not sure why, but they just aren’t there.
Since Kui is a surface mine, the operation will continue whether a private company is investing or not because it’s easy for individuals to find the gold on their own. But with most mines, the resources are not accessible for extraction without massive front end capital investments – and therefore will lie untouched without private sector intervention. Social services for the community and the workers must accompany these companies and their extraction investments because the consequences of not providing them will contribute to the decline in development of the surrounding area and even the country as a whole.
What’s Next for Kui?
The District Assembly is very focused on collecting revenue from this literal gold mine. Not just the mining, but all of the buying and selling will provide a needed push to their pool of Internally Generated Funds (IGF). Fortunately there are also some people within the assembly who are advocating for service provision for the people there. It seems like mobile services such as toilets and clinics are a start, and are investments the government feels comfortable with in such a transient atmosphere. Now to see how quickly they will be mobilized is another matter. For the sake of the people of Kui, I’m hoping these interventions won’t be delivered in ‘Africa time’.
The cab of our pickup was packed with four grown men and myself. There were another four men in the box of the pickup, and another pickup following us with the same arrangement (less the Canadian girl). It took us nearly two hours to make our way down the 20km of horrible road filled with giant mudholes and other hazards. We were going to Kui.
Kui is a place I’ve heard lots about around the District Assembly. It’s a settlement about 100 km from my town of Bole and it’s home to a small scale illegal gold surface mining operation. Everyone’s been spreading stories about the place – how the population is that of a city and isn’t just Ghanaian, but also people from nearby Togo, Benin, Cote D’Ivoire, Burkina Faso, and Nigeria; how the money flows more than water; how you can buy anything you want; and how the place is overrun with social problems like prostitution, HIV/AIDS, and robbery.
I was going to Kui in a small convoy. We had Immigration Officers, the District Police Chief, some District Assembly staff, some elected Assembly Members, and the Chief of a nearby town who used to be the acting chief of Kui itself. And the random white Canadian girl. The purpose of our trip was to go and visit the people in Kui and tell them that the District Assembly wasn’t interested in shutting down their illegal operations, but instead wanted to help them legalize and obtain licenses for their activities. And that the assembly wanted to begin collecting taxes from the massive amount of money being made there.
A Sore Sight
We finally arrived in Kui after a truck ride that gave me bruises. Most days in Ghana I see sights that tug at my heartstrings, but this day was overwhelming. The settlement looked like a refugee camp. All the shelters were made from thatched grass held up by broken branches. Some had plastic sheets covering them to provide a bit of protection from the rain. There was garbage everywhere and no latrines or sanitation facilities to speak of. A lack of sanitation isn’t uncommon in Ghana, but perhaps here it was magnified because all the grass and trees had been removed to make houses or to dig through the sand for gold.
Most of the other stories I had heard about Kui seemed to be true. The place was huge and I don’t doubt that the population was larger than the 10,000 or so that are in Bole. The shelters were all arranged haphazardly and were crammed between large piles of sand or deep cuts through the earth – all results of the surface mining. The main path through the shelters was lined with makeshift stands selling all kinds of things that you can only buy in larger Ghanaian cities – even the food we were served for lunch can’t be bought in Bole. There were hundreds of crates stacked up with empty beer bottles, and even a chalkboard outside a drinking area that advertised the times of upcoming football matches they were showing on TV (there’s no electricity to Kui, but apparently no shortage of generators).
We arrived at the Chief’s Palace (a thatched grass roof held up with sticks and no walls), and were all seated in a giant circle of about 20 people. As the white girl, I was seated beside the Chief. Another 50 or 60 people gathered around our circle to listen to our meeting.
Forced Participation
The meeting was conducted with the formalities of a typical Ghanaian meeting, and there was a translator in the middle broadcasting everything which was said to the rest of the crowd in one of the local languages. The message was delivered to the people, and no complaints were heard. After most people in the meeting had spoken, the meeting chair turned to me and asked for my contribution.
“Sister, do you have anything you would like to say?”
“No – thank you sir, I am here to listen and learn”
“But you must say something”. Oh crap.
Nothing like being put on the spot. I’ve come to understand that the fact that I’m white means that people expect me to have answers when I come to meetings, and that they also expect me to make contributions whether I like it or not. So I did my best to provide an analogy of Fort McMurray, and how when a community is formed of people from many different places that no one will treat it as their home and the result is a place which no one wants to live. I urged them to come together as a community and work with the District Assembly to make it a better place to live whilst they are there trying to earn a living. Big and vague words with little tangible meaning – the best I could do while trying to think on my feet in front of the huge crowd. Who knows what the translator told everyone I said. Insert polite clapping for the white girl here.
An Interruption
At one point, our meeting was broken by a large and very muscle bound man sprinting into our circle and diving to take cover at the feet of the Chief (right next to me, while I silently freaked out in my chair). A couple of other men chased him into the circle and stopped when they saw the man was sitting at the feet of the Chief. In a couple of minutes there were five men in total, all angry and cut on their faces from fighting. The police chief and immigration officers got them all up and made them carry giant logs around town in the dead heat of the day. They all returned about 15 minutes later, sweating and collapsing from exhaustion. The police chief gave them a lecture:
“You have no jobs so you come here looking for something small to eat. And now look what you are doing to each other. None of you are sober enough to say anything of value to the people gathered here so go and sleep. If you continue this, we will come and take you to Bole [to the prison].”
I am still haunted by the face of one of the men sitting on the ground. Bleeding, sweating, he looked like he was about to cry. He glanced at me and I swear I had met him in Bole but I couldn’t place exactly where. And now here he was, drawn to this terrible place in hopes of earning some money but just ending up in trouble.
Private Sector vs. Public Sector in Development
I firmly believe that Ghana needs private sector development to move out of poverty. But it also struck me that this town is the result of breakneck speed private sector development without any government intervention. Any service that can generate a profit for someone has been catered for, as evidenced by the luxuries like ice cream being sold from generator powered freezers. But the less glamorous services, or those that require a community effort such as fixing roads, providing sanitation, education, or basic health care have been neglected.
The private sector – a small mining company from Malta - has provided a single borehole for water and they make around GHc1,000 ($720 CAN) per day from selling water - a good sum of money in Ghana. At first I was angry that the people were being charged for the water. But I quickly realized that before this well was drilled, the only water available to drink was dirty ditch water. I also realized that the local government wasn’t in the position to provide these types of services to Kui because:
1. The borehole at that location reportedly cost GHc25,000 (around $18,000 CAN - although I question this amt, it's very high). They simply don’t have this type of money.
2. Even if they had the money, the bureaucracy is slow and it would take several months to mobilize resources to drill a well, and
3. I’m not convinced that people in a very temporary mining town should be prioritized for government spending over those who live in permanent settlements and still don’t benefit from public services.
Kui’s Contribution to Development
Nothing operates in isolation, and Kui definitely contributes to the bigger picture of development in Ghana. Kui is providing jobs for the thousands of people without jobs. This is great if they take the opportunity to go and work, earn an income, save some money, and support themselves into school or other business after they leave Kui. But unfortunately I think this will be the exception rather than the standard.
I’ve heard stories of women’s groups being educated in local programs in their communities to produce shea butter and use it as an income generating activity. When the trainer went to deliver the certificates to the women, they had all gone to Kui. School aged children leave school to go there and carry water, or are even forced to go because their parents take them there. They’re often swept into the sex trade. People diagnosed with HIV leave their home communities because of the social stigma attached to the positive diagnosis, so they go to Kui where no one knows they are positive and they continue to spread the disease there. Any diseases contracted at Kui will also be multiplied throughout the home communities of the workers when they return. People also become accustomed to earning mining salaries and then when they leave the mine, they turn to robbery or crime to support their lifestyles.
Importance of Corporate Social Responsibility
I don’t know a lot about mining communities or boom and bust cycles, but the importance of the private sector providing services to the people who live in these communities and conduct the mining is evident. Communities like these in Canada, such as Fort McMurray (where I spent a total of three cold, dark, and depressing months), are stigmatized as unpleasant places to be. But here in Ghana and in other developing countries, these places are a collection of desperation. There really are no other job options as there is such a lack of private sector development throughout the nation and public sector employment is saturated. For the first time in many people’s lives they have a chance to collect something that resembles a steady income – and a significant income at that. Their governments can’t respond quickly with infrastructure and necessary services do things like prevent disease, provide safe water, or security for the citizens of the settlement. Even our rich Albertan government can’t keep up with Fort Mac, so how can we expect governments of developing countries to be equipped to respond?
Unfortunately for Kui, with the exception of the one man Maltese company mentioned above, there are no companies who are mining there. The operations are an ad-hoc free for all, loosely organized by individuals in some sort of power structure I have yet to figure out. I don’t know why there are no companies there – maybe the deposits are not big enough to warrant significant private investment. I’m not sure why, but they just aren’t there.
Since Kui is a surface mine, the operation will continue whether a private company is investing or not because it’s easy for individuals to find the gold on their own. But with most mines, the resources are not accessible for extraction without massive front end capital investments – and therefore will lie untouched without private sector intervention. Social services for the community and the workers must accompany these companies and their extraction investments because the consequences of not providing them will contribute to the decline in development of the surrounding area and even the country as a whole.
What’s Next for Kui?
The District Assembly is very focused on collecting revenue from this literal gold mine. Not just the mining, but all of the buying and selling will provide a needed push to their pool of Internally Generated Funds (IGF). Fortunately there are also some people within the assembly who are advocating for service provision for the people there. It seems like mobile services such as toilets and clinics are a start, and are investments the government feels comfortable with in such a transient atmosphere. Now to see how quickly they will be mobilized is another matter. For the sake of the people of Kui, I’m hoping these interventions won’t be delivered in ‘Africa time’.
