“Akwaaba” Is Ghana—Not Akan: Let’s Not Trivialize Our National Soul

Every nation lives or dies by the stories it tells about itself. The words, songs, symbols, and images that rise above regional and tribal boundaries become the glue that binds a people into one destiny. Ghana, fragile as it is in its democratic journey, cannot afford to tear itself apart by bickering over these very symbols. Yet, here we are — watching a dangerous narrative gain ground: the call for the removal of the Akwaaba signage at Kotoka International Airport, on the flimsy excuse that the word is Akan and the airport is on Ga land.

This is not only petty; it is perilous. It is the sort of thinking that poisons a nation’s soul. Akwaaba is no longer just a word borrowed from Akan. For decades it has been Ghana’s global identity, our handshake to the world, our way of telling strangers: “You are welcome here, not as a visitor, but as a friend.” To strip it of this meaning and reduce it to a tribal tag is to cheapen both our heritage and our sense of nationhood.

The irony is glaring. Should the Ashanti region then demand that revenues from cocoa — the backbone of our economy — remain theirs alone because the crop thrives there? Should the north insist that its shea butter or yam resources be ring-fenced for only northern benefit? Should the Ga community claim exclusive right to the sea and its bounty because of geography? Taken to its logical conclusion, this sort of reasoning would reduce Ghana to an ungovernable patchwork of selfish enclaves, each clutching tightly to its little corner and resenting the rest. That is not nationhood. That is tribal feudalism disguised as cultural pride.

Nations that understand their destiny rise above such myopia. In the United States, the national motto is not English at all, but Latin: E Pluribus Unum — “Out of many, one.” No American loses sleep over the fact that it is not in the native tongue of the Pilgrims or Indigenous peoples. India, with its cacophony of languages and cultures, proudly presents Bharat — an ancient Sanskrit name — side by side with “India” in its Constitution. South Africa stitched multiple languages into its anthem and multiple colors into its flag to bind together peoples divided by centuries of apartheid. Canada’s maple leaf, which does not grow in every province, is nonetheless carried in the heart of every Canadian. What these nations grasp is simple: a symbol does not remain trapped in the ethnicity or soil of its origin. Once embraced nationally, it is elevated into the collective soul.

That is precisely what Akwaaba represents for Ghana. Tourists recognize it instantly. Diasporans carry it proudly. Investors smile when they see it. It is not an Akan word anymore — it is Ghana’s word. To question its place at our main international gateway is to show ignorance of how national identity is formed, and worse, to chip away at the fragile cement of unity that holds us together.

Let us be honest with ourselves. Our greatest threat is not just poverty, unemployment, or corruption. It is divisiveness. It is the constant temptation to pit one tribe against another, to politicize culture, to weaponize language. We rail against racism abroad but embrace ethnocentrism at home. We call for Pan-Africanism while turning our noses up at the cultures of our immediate neighbors. If that is not hypocrisy, what is?

If the logic behind this call is tolerated, what comes next? Shall we forbid the promotion of kente cloth as national wear because it is Ashanti in origin? Shall we strip Gye Nyame motifs from our art because they are Akan? Shall the Homowo festival not feature in state-backed cultural tourism because it belongs to the Ga? Do we erase dzolɔ (Ewe for resilience) from national consciousness because it isn’t spoken everywhere? These are absurdities — but absurdities that follow inevitably once the floodgates of narrow thinking are opened.

Politicians, in particular, must tread carefully. Their words carry power, and when they dabble in parochialism, they legitimize the insecurities of the fringe and embolden the reckless. Leadership must be about enlarging the national imagination, not shrinking it. A leader worthy of Ghana must weave our many strands into one cloth, not pull at the threads until they unravel.

Ghana is not perfect. Our democracy is noisy, our politics often bitter, our economy fragile. But we have survived because, at heart, Ghanaians know that what binds us is stronger than what divides us. Akwaaba is one of those binding threads. To touch it is to toy with our collective soul.

So let us say this clearly: Akwaaba belongs to Ghana. It is Akan in origin, yes, but it is Ghanaian in destiny. It is not a tribal slogan but a national gift. Those who seek to strip it away should be reminded that they are not defending culture; they are desecrating it. And in doing so, they betray the very unity that will decide whether this nation rises together or fractures apart.

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