On Laboma Beach, the Party Continues

The crowd, not to be outdone, offered its own concert. Dialect danced with dialect, colloquialisms flirted and fused, creating a creole from Jamestown, Texas, Lisbon. East London and Senegal. The sound of a diaspora unbridled and unbothered. The sound of a people who, if only momentarily, had returned home.

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African countries are fashioning new relationships with their diaspora. And, fortunately, their approaches are differentiated. In certain cases, the government takes the initiative, expending resources on programmes and outreach oriented around the diaspora. The highly publicized Year of Return, planned by the Ghanaian government, is a classic example. In other cases, the government takes the backseat, and the country’s verve, instead, does the heavy lifting. Detty December, a month-long roil in Nigeria and a clear crystallization of its nightlife, is illustrative. Neither approach is necessarily better or worse than the other. Rather, each plays on its respective country’s strengths.

In September 2018, at a Washington D.C. event attended by congressmen, activists, and business leaders, Ghana’s president, Nana Akufo-Addo, announced the Year of Return. In his address, Akufo-Addo explicated the programme’s goal: ‘We know of the extraordinary achievements and contributions they [Africans in the diaspora] made to the lives of the Americans, and it is important that this symbolic year—400 years later—we commemorate their existence and their sacrifices.’

It made sense that Ghana would spearhead the Year of Return, a programme aimed at bridging the gap between Africans and the African diaspora. Prior to the programme’s inception, Ghana had already displayed a keen political interest in encouraging members of the diaspora to its shores. The country’s first president, Kwame Nkrumah, was an ardent pan-Africanist, who championed the idea of a politically unified Africa. In line with his pan-African ideology, Nkrumah was sympathetic to the plight of African Americans, who, by the 1950s, were still living under the systemic blight of Jim Crow. Fittingly, Nkrumah established a friendship with Martin Luther King, who was inspired by the statesman’s activism. During a speech in April 1957, Luther King relayed a rallying message from Nkrumah: ‘Our sympathies are with America and its allies. But we will make it clear through the United Nations and other diplomatic channels that beautiful words and extensive hand outs cannot be substitutes for the simple responsibility of treating our colored brothers in America as first-class human beings.’ Nkrumah’s words were forceful, evincing a sense of shared responsibility, partially shouldered by Ghana, for the liberation of African Americans.

Successive regimes in Ghana sought to institutionalize Nkrumah’s pan-African ideal. In 2000, Ghana’s parliament passed a Citizenship Act, offering dual citizenship to Ghanaians who already had citizenship from their home countries. It also passed the complementary Immigration Act, which provided for a ‘right of abode’ for any ‘person of African descent in the diaspora’ to travel to and from Ghana with few impediments. Thus conceived, the Year of Return was actually a familiar node in Ghana’s ideological circuitry, the heir to an existing suite of diaspora-friendly laws.

Ghana’s geography, and its historical role as a slave trade hub, also made the country a resonant site for the pilgrimage. During the trans-Atlantic slave trade, slave-trading nations established multiple ‘slave castles’ alongside West Africa’s coast, where enslaved Africans were held before they were eventually sold into slavery. These castles were dispersed across West Africa.  However, Ghana’s comparative advantage—its extensive coastline—made it home to numerous slave castles, including the primary ones: Cape Coast Castle and Elmina Castle. By the 18th century, 30,000 enslaved Africans were transiting through Elmina Castle each year.

The castles were physically imposing, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean like punitive wardens. Living conditions there were dire and barbaric, and enslaved Africans were subjected to abject cruelty. They were branded, chained and tortured, and enslaved women were routinely raped.

Considering the outsized role played by Ghana’s slave castles, including the volume of enslaved Africans they exported, launching the Year of Return there felt almost inexorable. There was an affective appeal in Ghana’s hosting of the Year of Return. A return to Ghana, and a visit to the slave castles, would represent a symbolic 360 for members of the diaspora, hopefully prompting a sense of closure and catharsis. Yaa Gyasi, an award-winning Ghanaian-American novelist, managed to convey this ideal masterfully in Homegoing, her award-winning debut, during one character’s visit to Cape Coast Castle. As Ghana’s minister of tourism from 2017 to 2019, Catherine Afeku, prophesied, ‘Back home in Ghana, as you go through the slave dungeons, you will know that you are the Josephs and Josephines who were sold into slavery and have come back home.’

Equipped with a consistent political track record and a resonant historical legacy, Ghana threw an expansive Year of Return. There was the scholarly (‘Panafest Colloquium, Lectures, Assemblies and Dialogue’), the cinematic (‘Benpaali Young Filmmakers Festival’) and the literary (‘AAAG Spoken Word Event’). However, the musical—Afrochella, Afronation, Detty Rave—emerged triumphant. Music has historically served as a lingua franca across the diaspora, a common joy, both sensually and substantively, that everyone can enjoy. Instruments and instrumentals had been ferried between Africa, the Caribbean, and South America since the early 20th century, creating a syncretic blueprint that persists today. Fela Kuti doused the 1970s with melodious anthems championing African solidarity, a mantle subsequently picked up in the 2010s by Burna Boy. Considering music’s impressive elasticity—its capacity for both political agitation and seamless joy—it’s no surprise it was the choice medium during the Year of Return, an event for those who’ve always had to toggle between the two modes to survive.

Conceptually, the Year of Return worked. It had a fitting host in Ghana and a well-rounded range of events. And, empirically, it appeared to be a resounding success. Official data from January to September 2019 shows that 237,000 additional people visited Ghana, marking a 45 per cent increase from the same period last year. Ghana’s minister of tourism touted a $1.9 billion influx into the Ghanaian economy due to the Year of Return. According to the Ghanaian government, it granted a record 126 diasporans citizenship in 2019, transforming the Year of Return from a symbolic sojourn into a permanent relocation, at least for those lucky few. Bright Simons, a researcher at the Imani Centre for Policy & Education, also theorized that the program improved Ghana’s international image. Buoyed by the Year of Return’s ostensible success, in June 2021, the Ghanaian government launched Beyond the Return, a ‘10-year project’ intended to ‘grow Ghana’s tourism industry, showcase its investment potential and solidify its [d]iaspora engagement programs.’ This follow-up suggests a certain durability to the Year of Return, a belief, held by the Ghanaian government, in its ability to foster economic growth.