Author Archives: Angela Johnston

About Angela Johnston

Angela Johnston says that she loves getting to the “heart of a story by finding the everyday people involved,” which is precisely what she’ll be doing for the next six months interning at Citi FM in Accra, Ghana. Before arriving in Ghana, Johnston spent more than two years working for CBC in Saskatchewan as a reporter for radio and television. As a general assignment reporter, she covered a wide range of stories, including a piece about stalking victims pushing to change peace bond laws and a feature about 90-year-old farmers putting in another harvest for the year. Johnston’s previous international experience includes interning for the CBC’s London bureau and working for a Canadian media program in Malawi. She is a graduate of Carleton University’s journalism program and has a Masters in media and globalization.

Plans to “re-patriate” psychiatric patients in Accra facing long delays

It’s a habit Raphael Armah just can’t quit.

For the better part of the past decade, Armah has been in and out of Accra’s psychiatric hospital for smoking marijuana.  Although he believes the answer is institutional care—it does not mean Armah enjoys hospital life.

“I don’t like staying here,” he says, “Because when I’m here, I don’t feel like myself.”

In an open-air courtyard at the hospital, a TV blares for patients.  Some men pass time by playing nonchalantly games.   After a two-month stay, Armah says he is ready to go, and his mother is going to pick him up soon.

Armah is one of hundreds of patients slated to be “repatriated” from the Ghana’s chronically overcrowded psychiatric institutions.  The exercise is a story I first worked on about six months ago—and a program that was scheduled to take about as long.

But as I recently discovered—officials are now forecasting massive delays.  Doctors are now estimating the exercise may not wrap up until the middle of next year.

One such man set to go home is 86-year-old Samuel Adu Armah from Accra.  He says he his fifth-born daughter brought him here because he was preaching too intensely.

“I want to go,” he says, “I want to go home, because I am okay.”

Back in January, hospital officials touted plans to send home 600 patients in six months from the Accra hospital, which at times had more than double its capacity.  But as of mid-July, only 200 patients had returned home—a far cry from the original plan.

For chief psychiatrist Dr. Akwasi Osei, the exercise is happening too slowly.  He says massive congestion means some patients sleep on mattresses on the floor.

“If you go to the wards, the condition is more like what you expect to be seeing in prison, or concentration camps,” says Osei, “That is obviously not good enough.  So we want to decongest such that patients will then feel comfortable and feel that we are at a hospital and not a prison.”

There are a number of reasons for the delay.

One includes the high cost of travelling to some of Ghana’s more remote regions—at times almost 3,000 cedis (approx. $1,900).

“That is a serious drain on our resources,” says Osei, “But the point is that it’s still much cheaper than if we were to maintain [the patients] here.”

Other reasons include administrative backlogs causing repatriation trips to happen every three weeks instead of two, and the need for more support staff on the trips (which means fewer seats on the bus for patients).

Osei says there are plans to cope with the massive delays.  One is to set up an observation ward at the hospital, where all new admissions will be monitored for three days before being admitted.

Osei also says he’s hoping the country’s health ministry will supply an additional bus to the hospital, which would mean two teams could head out at any given time.

Of course, simply getting patients home is not the end of the story.  Osei says he knows the right supports in Ghanaian communities do not necessarily exist. For example, while every district should have at least ten psychiatric nurses, some have none at all. There is no such thing as a half-way home in Ghana.

Still, Osei says the rationale for the repatriation exercise is to reduce stigma surrounding mental illness in Ghana.  World Health Organization estimates suggest at least 2 million Ghanians are living with some form of mental illness.

“The current trend all over the world is community care, rather than institutional care,” says Osei, who has long advocated for the passage of the country’s mental health bill which would formalize community care.

As for Raphael Armah, he says he’s happy to be heading home.  He wants to get back to his music career, where he raps and sings about issues like religion and kinship.  As for staying off the marijuana, he says he’s hoping finding a good church to keep him on the right path—rather than returning to the psychiatric hospital.

Ghanaian national amputee soccer team kicks on

A player from Black Challenge, Ghana's amputee football team, showcases his moves on a beach in Accra. Photo by Angela Johnston.

It’s an early-morning soccer practice on a beach in Ghana’s capital city, Accra.  With the shriek of a whistle, players leap into action, dribbling the ball with careful precision. It may be a typical soccer practice, but it’s not your typical team—this is Ghana’s national amputee soccer team, the Black Challenge.

Waves from the Atlantic Ocean crash in the sand. Every so often, passersby stop and curiously watch players in action. They’re running a kicking drill, dusting up sand with their crutches with each step. It looks grueling.

Still, these players are used to tough conditions, both on and off the field. The Black Challenge is the highest-ranked amputee team in Africa. Its goalkeeper is the best in the world. And yet players face daily difficulties, at times begging on the street, or struggling to find bus fare to get to practice.

John Mensah Badu plays defense and is the captain of the Black Challenge. He catches a bus by 4 a.m. to get to practice, and on his own dime. His left leg was amputated more than 20 years ago, after a traffic accident. Now, he says he has a point to prove.

“I want to help my nation and prove to Ghanaians and my colleagues who are physically challenged that being disabled is not inability,” he says.

This is Ghana’s national team, but players buy their own sachets of filtered “pure” water from informal hawkers walking by on the beach. Some do not play with proper soccer cleats.

Black Challenge coach Ali Jaraa says the team does not need much: “Water, transport—that’s all.”

Jaraa used to be one of Ghana’s rising star goalkeepers. He scored a contract with European club FC Cologne, and also played for the Accra Hearts of Oak.

That changed suddenly 18 years ago. A neural disorder, Guillan-Barré Syndrome, temporarily paralyzed him. He does not play anymore, but he still has a career in football. He currently runs a goalkeepers’ academy and coaches the Black Challenge.

“While you are kicking, and you are a star, everybody hails at you, follows you . . . but when something happens to you, nobody cares,” he says. “That’s the situation we are in. And I feel I’m part of them.”

Jaraa may say all the team needs is water and transport, but there have been larger financial problems in the past.

Last year, the Black Challenge was set to play at the amputee soccer World Cup in Argentina. But the team had only raised half of the 80,000 cedis (approximately $52,000 CAD) needed to attend a week before the tournament.  The Ghanaian government eventually helped out.

And this October, Ghana is slated to host the amputee African Cup of Nations tournament. So securing money is currently on the country’s amputee football federation president’s mind.

Francis Adjetey Sowah says finding money for big events is one thing. But securing government, NGO or donor money for the team’s everyday operations is more difficult—a feat made no easier without any office computers or vehicles to get around.

“If you have enacted a law, and that is the disability law, which says that government will be able to provide the needed resources to people with disabilities . . . then I think it is an indictment on government to be able to assist them tremendously,” he says.

Off the field, finding work can be a challenge for the players, says Sowah. He says many have completed high school and university but struggle to get a job. He says some save money from tournament per diems to start up small businesses.

At the end of practice, the players stretch, and then huddle together in prayer.

The trek from the beach back to the main street is gnarled, with the players gingerly stepping over open gutters and piles of rubbish.  Still, team captain John Mensah Badu says he wouldn’t give this up for anything.

“I’d like to play ball until the last drop of my blood,” he says, and then laughs, “Yeah, until the last drop of my blood.”

Bringing green to the screen at Accra’s environmental film festival

Ghana's Environmental Film Festival features recycled clothing fashion shows (above), workshops from young filmmakers' and international and local film screenings. Photo by Angela Johnston.

By Angela Johnston

First up is a sci-fi flick from Kenya, set in a future without water. A female scientist desperately attempts to grow a plant.  Next is a music video about sanitation, featuring Ghanaian hiplife artists urging Africans to “keep it clean and tidy.” Very different films, but both share a green message—one that Accra’s environmental film festival is trying to promote to Ghanaian audiences.

Film-festival attendees snack on plantain chips and groundnuts at a screening in Ghana’s capital city. Afterwards, Kojo Kormedza says he is excited.

“It’s a very nice platform,” the science teacher says. “We are not only coming to just watch it, but we will go and practice what we have learned from here.”

What began as a small gathering of filmmakers and environmentalists seven years ago has now grown into a full-fledged festival with almost 1,000 film screenings to date. And organizers say it’s only going to get bigger in years to come.

Films here broach topics like over-fishing and river pollution in Ghana to garbage problems plaguing Cairo. International films are featured—including two from Canada—but many are Ghanaian.

That’s an important component for festival co-director Kwesi Owusu, who says environmental issues have for too long felt foreign to local audiences in Ghana.

“Climate change was always explained with polar bears and breaking of the ice and the North Pole,” he says, “But if you look at indigenous systems of knowledge it’s very much infused with preserving the environment.”

Getting the attention of Ghanaians is a big part of the festival, which includes a film competition for local producers, a young filmmakers workshop and an open-air cinema, which screens films to thousands of people in venues like refugee camps and older neighborhoods of Accra.

“Most film festivals are pretty elitist in many ways,” says Owusu. “We thought it was important to break through that by bringing the films to people who don’t necessary come to places like Alliance Française or the Goethe-Institut,” he adds, referring to two cultural centres in Accra.

Creating a digestible environmental message for youth is something also on the mind of government ministers here.

“Sustainable environmental management is a shared responsibility and can best be achieved if people understand the message through the media,” Ghana’s environment minister, Sherry Ayittey, told crowds at the festival’s launch in early June.

With local issues such as mining, coastal erosion, e-waste and recently, oil drilling, all part of Ghana’s environmental landscape, Owusu says the festival has helped fuel increasing media reporting in the country.

And as for the future, he says the main goal is to mainstream environmental thinking more and more. The festival already features a recycled clothing fashion show. But Owusu says adding a poetry component next year another idea.

Owusu says he has high hopes for the festival, which is one of two in Africa dealing with the environment.

“It’s pretty unique and we are pretty excited about it,” he says.

Autism in Ghana part II: Battling stigma and education youth

Seletay Pi-Bansa, 8, learns to read at write at AACT, a special school for autistic youth in Ghana. Photo by Angela Johnston.

A group of students gather in a circle around a blackboard in a small Accra classroom. Eight-year-old Seletay Pi-Bansa holds a piece of chalk. He begins to sketch letters on the board and his classmates clap in a rhythmic beat to encourage him.

“Let’s hear for Seletay,” the teacher says at the Autism Awareness, Care and Training Centre (AACT).

Seletay’s mother, Evelyne Pi-Bansa, sits outside. She says this autism centre is helping Sel learn better than other schools he has attended in the city.

The autism centre is one of only a few places here that work with autistic children, in a country where no official statistics exist about the number of people with autism.

And that lack of resources for families with autistic children has some calling for more to be done in a country where stigma about the disorder remains high.

Seletay’s mother says many people here do not understand his behaviour, like throwing tantrums or running around—she says people often think he is spoiled. And she says it was hard for her to hear Seletay’s diagnosis.

“It just hit me like a tornado,” she says, “I was in denial, and for a long time we started going from place to place.  Somebody would say, let’s go see this pastor.  Let’s go to this church, and pray.”

Now, Pi-Bansa is emphasizing the activities that make Seletay happy—like jumping on trampolines, sight-seeing and swimming.  And she says she hopes one day, he will be able to enjoy another typical childhood experience—attending a properly resourced mainstream Ghanaian school.

“We all have rights,” she says, “If the government is providing [education] for the everyday child who goes to everyday school, I should also have, because I pay tax.”

It’s a fight Serwah Quaynor has also taken up. She runs the centre, which offers speech and language therapy, life skills training and functional academics.  About 40 students attend every day.

Though Quaynor opened the centre more than a decade ago, she says understanding about the disorder remains low.

“People are locking some of their children in because nobody wants to know,” says Quanor. “Even in families, people don’t want to be with you. Friends shun you . . . and you find yourself rather alone.”

Quaynor says the government needs to train teachers to help children with autism and also increase support in rural areas.

Dr. Ebenezer Badoe, one of Ghana’s leading experts on autism, also says more can be done. Parents need to band together he maintains, and start demanding more from government.

“We need to hear them time after time, putting pressure and then the resources will start to come,” he says.

The deputy director of the Ghana Education Service, Stephen Adu, told Ghana’s Citi FM that no specific programs exist in Ghana’s public schools for autistic students. Teachers refer cases to health specialists—but are often on their own in the classroom.

Back at the centre, Evelyne Pi-Bansa says she is already thinking about Seletay’s future.  She says she wants him to develop a skill—such as cooking, or IT expertise—and be independent. And she is optimistic about his future.

“We don’t have any doubts that he will be the best in his field, and we want that,” she says.

A word from Ghana’s oldest jhr university chapter

Danny Bannah, jhr-AUCC chapter president in Accra, Ghana. Photo by Laura Bain.

Text by Jenny Vaughan, audio by Angela Johnston

Jhr and Ghana go a long way back. We started working in the West African country in 2003 when our first training program was established. Today, the country is the source of scores of jhr’s success stories. One such success is the growth of the jhr chapter at the African University College of Communications, a journalism school in downtown Accra. The chapter at the school is the first established in Ghana, and continues to engage the community on critical human rights issues and the role the media plays in defending the rights of everyday Ghanaians. Most recently, chapter members teamed up with the student body and jhr intern Laura Bain to produce Faces of old Fadama, a magazine about life in Accra’s largest slum–home to 80,000 people who have limited access to clean water, health care or stable incomes.

Jhr’s Angela Johnston talked to AUCC chapter members about their reasons for joining the chapter and how their work with jhr will continue to inspire their burgeoning careers from years to come. Listen to the podcast below.

Angela Johnston talks AUCC-jhr chapter members

Life in the time of cholera

Accra's Korle Blu hospital, where some of Ghana's cholera victims are being treated. Since September, over 7,000 people have contracted the illness, and over 80 have died. Photo by Angela Johnston.

It was a close call for Hannah Anum.

She says she arrived at Accra’s Korle Bu hospital unconscious. Now, she rests motionless on a bench with her head nested in her elbow. She and her two daughters got cholera from rice and stew she cooked herself.

“I was very weak and dizzy,” she says in a local language, Twi. “I heard people talk but I could not say anything to them . . . I knew I was near death.”

It’s a common story in Ghana, where more than 80 people have died from the bacterial disease since September, according to the Ghana Health Service. Efforts are underway to bring the epidemic to bay, but some are calling on Ghanaian authorities to do more to prevent outbreaks in the future.

Anum is resting in a wooden shelter built at the hospital to house new cholera cases, of which Korle Bu now sees about 20 each day. Some patients need up to 20 litres of fluid to recover from the severe diarrhea cholera brings on.

In a hospital examination room, medical resident Dr. Salamatu Nantogma says the clinic is coping by scheduling extra shifts and more nurses on duty.

“It’s really exhausting because you are on your feet, trying every case you see as an emergency,” she explains. “Every case you see is a potential death.”

Clinics like Korle Bu are the front lines in an epidemic that has affected more than 7,000 people in seven months. Heavy rains and flooding last year are partly to blame, but sanitation shortfalls like access to clean water and toilets compound the problem.

Today, different strategies are in place to reduce the number of cases.

City assemblies are padlocking vendors operating in unhygienic conditions, such as selling food along open gutters. Accra’s public health department is inspecting homes for toilets and prosecuting people in special sanitation courts. It’s also continuing with plans to build more public washrooms.

The national government provides free treatment for patients. There is also a national strategy and committee in place. And local media have reported on government plans to spend millions to provide drugs and speed up waste collection.

A big education push is underway throughout the country, reminding Ghanaians to wash their hands, be critical of the food they buy and to stop practices such as open defecation.

There are also calls coming from opposition MPs and NGOs to invest more money into water and sanitation infrastructure.

“Let’s . . . go down to the root cause, and that is the poor sanitation in our urban areas,” opposition MP, Maxwell Kofi Jumah, told Accra’s Citi FM. “It is very clear that this government is not committed to it.”

And because fighting the epidemic also boils down to personal behaviour, the country’s health minister, Joseph Yieleh Chireh, says money alone will not be enough. Individuals must also step up to the plate.

“The issue of personal hygiene—ensuring that you eat clean food and make sure you don’t contaminate anything that you see—is important,” Chireh said on the same program. “It’s not something the government can come and wish away.”

Wishing away cholera is a feeling patient Enoch Opuku knows from experience.  As he sips from a bottle of water outside Korle Blu, he reflects on advice he has for other Ghanians.

“Be careful with what you eat, drink and where you stay. Wash your hands with soap and sponge anytime you have to eat, or you may contract the disease at any time.”

For patients like Opuku, it’s a lesson he knows first-hand.

Dry taps and lost hope: Water politics in Accra

In some parts of Accra, access to water is spotty—a reality for millions of around the world. Photo by Jenny Vaughan.

My heart sinks as I turn the kitchen tap at my home in Accra. It shrieks and nothing comes out.  It’s empty.

For two weeks, my housemates and I have been living without water. We survive on buckets our landlady brings us, and I mentally calculate the amount of water needed for simple tasks.

Shower: one bucket.

Washing my hands: one yogurt container.

Laundry: well, that’s out of the question for now.

I have never obsessed so much about water. Where it comes from. Where I’m going to get it. How much is left. How long it might be until we have it again. These concerns will be on the minds of many today, World Water Day.

Still, many cope with water problems far worse than mine in Accra. Water is rationed here, so your tank can overflow one day, and be dry the next.

I recently travelled to a Madina, a community in Accraand met Abdul Raheem Ninche, who says he has not had regular running water for more than a decade.

He installed a well in his yard to cope. He cleans with this water, but cannot do much else.

He spends about five cedis a day ($3 CAD) on clean drinking and bathing water for the nine people in his home, a steep cost for him.

Ninche and his neighbours complained to the water company, but he says nothing came of it. Now, he’s losing hope his situation will improve.

“We are neglected,” he tells me. “I feel people at the top don’t care about people here.”

Water politics are complicated in Madina.

A local civic coalition has accused the water operator, Aqua Vitens Rand Limited (AVRL), of running a new water line through Madina but not servicing the area, a claim AVRL denies.

AVRL says some residents illegally siphon water to sell to their neighbours, an accusation the civic coalition says is untrue.

Stanley Martey, a communications manager with the company, says Madina is at the end of a couple of water distribution lines, and rapid development in the area has compounded the problem.

“Development has been so, so fast that almost all the water is consumed before it gets to Madina,” Martey says.

He points to long-term plans to improve distribution, like sinking more boreholes and a multi-million dollar water treatment plant expansion plan. But a big-ticket item like that could take years.

Until then, there are no easy answers for people living in Madina.

“Most of us who work with the water company also live in the community and we also face the same challenges, so we know how bad the situation is,” says Martey. “So we are sorry, but under the circumstances, there is nothing we can do.”

Some are resourceful, making the best out of a bad situation. Eunice Lardjerh Dowuona has been buying water from tankers and selling it in the area for 20 years.

Her livelihood is based on the shortage, but she says she wants change.

“I’m benefitting, but if the tap is on, I like it,” she says.

Back at my house, the water eventually comes back on after a two-week dry spell.

But we know it could run out again at any moment. Now, my housemates and I fill extra buckets when the water is flowing—just in case. We do small loads of laundry as frequently as possible. We monitor the water tank fanatically.

It’s a state of constant planning, but still, I realize we’re lucky water flows at all.

Listen to a radio report about access to water in Accra by Citi FM’s Umaru Sanda Amadu and jhr’s Angela Johnston: Access to water in Accra

A long journey home

Over the next six months, 600 patients from Accra's psychiatric hostpital—one of three in Ghana—will be repatriated to their communities

At the Accra Psychiatric Hospital in Ghana’s capital city, ten former patients are waiting for a bus near the hospital gates. Some sit silently. Some sing. Some pray. They have medicine in their pockets, and a few dollars’ worth of Ghanaian cedis for the ride.

Some have stayed here for more than a decade. Now, they will return home. Within half a year, 600 patients are going to be “repatriated” from the psychiatric hospital. The program is both a response to overcrowding at the hospital, and a move towards de-institutionalizing mental health care in Ghana, according to doctors. But others say they are worried about its long-term success.

Abraham Borketey, a former patient, says he is excited to leave after a six-week stay. His family brought him here because he was behaving strangely and fighting in his community. Now, he is eager to start working again.

Others are not as keen. One woman, who says she’s been at the hospital for 15 years, is being forced on to the bus. She yells out in protest.

“None of these nurses asking me to go home were here [when I arrived], so I don’t understand what they are doing,” she says in a local language, Ga, before a hospital staffer closes the bus door.

No concrete numbers exist on the number of Ghanaians living with mental illness but the World Health Organization estimates it affects 10 per cent of the population, or more than two million people.

And access to care is mixed. All three government psychiatric hospitals are in the country’s more developed south. A dozen psychiatrists work in a country that officials say needs more than three times as many.

So far, the Ghana Health Service’s chief psychiatrist, Dr. Akwasi Osei, is calling the repatriation program a success. Of seventy patients that have been repatriated, three have come back to the hospital.

Osei says the program is designed to de-institutionalize mental health care here, but he knows the patients may face challenges outside the hospital, where stigma remains a problem.

“When people see them, they may say, ‘ah, this is one of them,'” Osei says. “You can’t stop people from pointing fingers at you, but you can change the way you react  to their pointing fingers at you. That is part of the education that we give them [before leaving].”

But some NGOs say it is too early to call the exercise a success. Basic Needs Ghana works with people living with mental illness. Country manager, Peter Yaro, supports a move to community care, but has concerns.

Yaro says access to reliable medicine and health care outside the hospital is mixed, and patients could relapse.

“The worst is that they would become destitute,” says Yaro. “When you don’t get the support from the family level, they find that kind of solace on the streets, or under the bridges.”

Osei says routine reviews are scheduled with patients, and nurses will work with them in their communities.

But he also says mental health care would be given a much-needed boost if the government passed the mental health bill, which would emphasize community-based care, and get more psychiatric professionals trained.

Ghana’s president, John Evans Atta Mills, recently referenced passing the bill in his annual State of the Nation address. Still, no government has done it in about five years.

Back at the hospital, the doors to the bus close, and its engine ignites. The bus starts to head out of the hospital gates; the beginning of a new journey for the ten patients inside.

Listen to a radio report about the repatriation program from Citi FM reporter Martin Aseidu: Repatriating the mentally ill in Ghana.

Railway dwellers near the end of the line in Accra

Accra residents protest forced evictions that will accompany the construction of a new railway line, slated to begin later this month

In Ghana’s capital city, Accra, a commotion stirs along the train tracks near the central railway station. Dozens gather to hear the news—that soon, their homes and workplaces will be razed for a new rail system.

“Last year we came to warn you to leave the railway lands. Last week we came again. And today, too, we have come,” Accra’s mayor, Alfred Vanderpuije, tells the crowd in Twi, a local language as he tours the site. “I can’t tell you if I will come tomorrow or tomorrow next. But we will come and we will demolish all of the structures.”

Railway officials call this a “sensitization exercise.” That is, bringing the message to thousands of people who have settled in at least ten informal communities along the rail line that they must leave—and soon—to pave the way for a new, high-speed rail system. The problem is many say they have nowhere to go.

This project is worth about $900-million US, and will connect Accra to nearby cities by train. The China National Machinery & Equipment Import & Export Corporation (CMEC) is responsible for building it.

Ghana’s president John Evans Atta Mills promised Ghanaians modernization of the country’s rail system under his “Better Ghana” agenda when he was elected in 2009. This particular project is expected to take a year-and-a-half and employ Ghanaians at a rate of 40 per cent.  Work could begin this month.

The delegation of politicians and Chinese engineers moves on to its next stop. In the thick Accra heat, laundry dries in the hot sun on the rocks. People cook with oil frying on charcoal fires. Life bustles in these communities, where children sway to music videos blaring from televisions in small shops.

Some residents say they have lived here for 30 years.  Baffour Anom sells cosmetics in the area. He says he looks forward to the new development, although he’s concerned about how it will affect his livelihood.

“I’m worried. I’m worried, because it will affect me later on, but I have to take it.  I can’t do nothing about that,” Baffour notes.

Frank Doyi, a coordinator with Amnesty International, says the group doesn’t oppose Ghana’s development, or even necessary evictions, but says in this case, people were not consulted enough or given enough help to relocate.

“You can’t just kick them out, they are human beings,” Doyi says. “They are Ghanaians and they have rights… and these rights must be respected.”

Amnesty estimates at least 50,000 people live in slums in Accra.  Although forced evictions are not new to the city, Doyi says this would be the largest so far.

Ghana’s Railway Development Authority says it has given people more than a year to leave, and there are other markets where railway dwellers can work. Although it says it is trying to evict people humanely, railway authority board chairman Daniel Markin says helping people relocate would be to “condone illegalities.”

“Some people just become very recalcitrant and difficult in doing what they have to do,” says Markin, “Look, we should not legitimize illegitimate things. We should not let the lawless ones dictate the pace of the law.”

As the tour wraps up, people begin to protest, and chase the delegation’s bus on to the street outside the station. So finishes another day at the end of the line, living on the edge of demolition.

Listen to a radio story about the evictions, originally aired on Ghana’s Citi FM here (produced by Umaru Sanda and Angela Johnston): Forced evictions in Accra