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Is Black Power dead?
Not all Blacks on the planet are African, though the greater majority claim African descent. The Aborigines of Australia are black, so are the indigenous people of far-flung areas like Papua and the Fijian Islands. I am told some of them lay claim to African origins. Er, all Blacks see Africa as the Motherland or Mother Continent.
I am a Pan Africanist. I believe in my people and the values that stand us apart from other peoples as handed down the ages by our forebears. Africans are naturalists, very religious and very spiritual. Then the advent of the Europeans changed all that. Slavery changed all that. The Europeans came with the Bible, took our forebears, our gold and other natural resources and all we have today are more Bibles on the African continent than anywhere else on the globe; and we are the poorest.
I turned five when Ghana became independent of colonial rule. I recollect the euphoria that greeted this occasion on the streets of Koforidua and even at Keta later in the fall of that year when I joined my grandparents. But I had no understanding of what was going on around me. I was just enjoying being a child, what else? I enjoyed going to school, in spite of my initial protestations. I hated rhymes, and still do. “Bah bah black sheep have you any wool” made no sense to me. “One two, buckle my shoe” when I wore no shoes to school made very little sense, if any at all.
Till date, I do not know any rhymes and, as a result, did not teach rhymes when I came out of training as a teacher. Now, I am extremely glad I did not like this colonial legacy.
History and the independence stories began to intrigue me and open my consciousness to who the African was. Oral accounts of the Slave Trade as I heard them from the coastal areas got me to appreciate the bravery of the Black Man. I heard the story of Kundo who was so spiritually endowed that when the Europeans put him on the steamer, the ship would not move an inch. No matter how hard the Europeans tried, the ship would not budge so long as they had Kundo on board. In the end, Kundo said if it was his destiny he would go along with them. Then the steamer moved. There is an Ewe dirge in memory of Kundo.
Nkrumah symbolised hope for the Ghanaian, the African and the Black Man. As a child I heard these from the narratives of my grandparents, especially my grandfather. The Osagyefo was all the people needed to take their collective destiny into their own hands. Ablorde (freedom) was the refrain among my people. The people loved Komla Agbeli Gbedema equally; very likely because he came from my hometown of Anyako. To them, he was a hero.
There was a heavy rainstorm in the dawn of February 24, 1966, while I was a teenager at Anyako and I overheard my grandmother say the storm was no ordinary one; she suspected it had a tinge of foreboding to it. Just a little later my grandfather had his small transistor radio to his ear and announced that Nkrumah had been overthrown. A pall of despondency swept over everyone in the compound. Later news that the coup was led by Colonel E. K. Kotoka from nearby Fiaxor, assisted by J.W.K Harlley, a native of Anyako whose elder sister was married to my father’s elder brother, did not assuage the worry of our people.
My maternal uncle, E. S. Fia Demanya, an Astrologer, Psychic and Diviner, had warned Nkrumah that if he traveled to Hanoi he was unlikely to return to Ghana ever again. Nkrumah ignored him. Later events revealed that the American CIA was behind the overthrow of the Nkrumah administration. The initiator of the African personality, the prime mover of the emancipation of the African continent was seen as a thorn in the side of the white man and had to be removed. It was, and still remains, a dark day in the history of the Black Man.
Our independence is meaningless because the slave mentality lives with us in spite of the abolition of that infamy. Mental slavery is a more lingering phenomenon than the physical scars wrought by the slave traders. The white women did not quite understand why their men were getting the Negro slave women pregnant. They later discovered that the kinky African hair gave the Black woman a certain distinct beauty and sensuality their masters could not resist. Either plaited or woven, the African hair was a thing of beauty and elegance about it.
The white mistresses had to resort to getting the slave women clean shaven to forestall the lecherous activities of their men. Fast forward to the sixties and the Black Power Movement in the United States; in vogue was what was known as the ‘Afro Hair’ where Blacks let their hair grow into bushy groves. Added to the Black Power salute with a clenched fist high up in the air, the Afro became a symbol of Black beauty and Black resistance.
There was this militant young black lady called Angela Davies. She was the face of the Black Resistance Movement in the sixties who was branded communist by the US government. She was harassed, arrested many times but she kept the fight. Did she fight the cause in vain?
My research revealed that the Afro hair put the fear of the devil in the white folks. Some of the Blacks were said to have hidden combs, pairs of scissors and other ‘weapons’ in their hair from which they stabbed the white ‘enemies’. So, the white folks got to work and developed hair relaxers in their chemical laboratories. One after the others the African-American, as they are known now, have become enslaved again; only this time by relaxers to take their distinct identity from them.
One can hardly see an African-American with Afro hair today. Skinhead is in vogue, thanks to the ingenuity of the slave master. Back in the day, white skinheads were the renegades affiliated to criminal gangs in the ghettos. It is considered uncultured to sport an Afro hair in the United States today. Whose culture, one may ask? How come the Orientals in the US have kept their culture in spite of being well integrated in the society? China Town in all major US cities attests to this. Is it because they were not enslaved?
Back home, we have become more Catholic than the Pope. Our women shy away from the plaited or combed hair. They spend more time in the hair salon than they do in their own kitchen. Both our men and women dress more European than the white man. We put on suit in the sweltering African heat under the guise of being civilized. Kaba for women has been christened ‘Friday Wear’. We are quick to defend this with the excuse that the Western attires give us ease of movement. This is as laughable as the fact that we don’t feel impeded in our movements on Fridays in Kaba. A great majority of Nigerians are proud to be in their African apparel at all times.
When I introduce myself as Akofa Segbefia, the immediate response is, “Don’t you have a Christian name?” as if I am supposed to be a Christian at all cost.
I visited an uncle. When a call came through from the head office of the company he worked for, he got up with the receiver in one hand and the other hand behind his back as he identified the caller to be the European boss. Would the white man see this supplication through the telephone line, I asked myself. Of course, it is good manners to show respect to your boss, but we carry the mental slavery to rather bizarre heights.
China has learnt a lot from the West, but the Chinese have developed without sacrificing their culture or identity. By Western standards China is still regarded as a developing country even though China is the second largest economy in the world. Today, China is said to grant more loans to the developing countries than all the Western economies put together.
Our African leaders wear Western clothes to their meetings, except a few. There are suit wearing leaders asking us to patronize made-in-here goods, stifling local entrepreneurships in favour of foreign investors whose avowed aim is to milk us dry and repatriate their earnings to their countries. We have leaders who kowtow to the whims and caprices of the white man. Those countries force their cultures and beliefs down our throats and would not accept ours; and we sheepishly acquiesce.
The words of my friend Jerry John Rawlings keeps reverberating in my ears: “Christianise me if you may, but don’t Europeanise me.” Have we as yet understood want Rawlings meant? Where is the Black Power?
By Dr. Akofa K. Segbefia
Writer’s email address
akofa45@yahoo.com
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MY bosom friend Kofi Kokotako once told me that a person’s haircut portrays his character. I disagreed with him and said a person’s character portrays his haircut. All in all, we agreed between us that a presidential aspirant whose haircut is excessively punk cannot win even a unit committee election, much more a castle-bound one.
One thing I hated as a kid was getting my hair barbered because I never had the style I wanted. Usually, it was my father who was the tormentor-in-chief, and he chose the kind of design that would suit the shape and nature of my head and that of my elder brother Christian, whose name is more civilised than mine.
When we were through, we looked quite different from the other kids. I didn’t know where my Pop learnt that kind of style but I realised it was very colonial in form and outlook and I became sad when the girls giggled at my design.
Actually, it was something resembling a half-bow with a line cut through at about 38 degrees to the perpendicular. After the ordeal we looked half like the resident catechist and half like a fierce Regimental Sergeant-Major.
When I told my daddy that I had had enough of the ancient cut and wanted an Afro or at least a Tokyo Joe, he quickly explained that Tokyo Joe was for ruffians and that his style was tailor-made for aspiring doctors, lawyers, engineers and great states-men. He didn’t mention journalists though.
So I went and told the giggling girls that my hairdo was a magical one that was going to transform me into a doctor whether they liked it or not. I added that their brothers who had modern haircuts invariably were going to be labourers and tangas (town council). They laughed at me even the more.
They referred me to the conservancy labourer not far away who always wore my kind of cut and asked me why he wasn’t wearing a white gown with a stethoscope hanging from his neck, if that kind of haircut was indeed miracle-performing!
My Dad was quite scrupulous and dished us the haircut in its hardest form just before Palm Sunday. It helped boost our religious conviction and the Holy Spirit almost descended and settled on our wonderful heads.
At Sunday school one Palm Sunday, the lady teacher asked me to stand so that she could admire my hairdo. I was quite flattered and happy that I was the centre of attraction on a great occasion like Palm Sunday. So I quickly stood up and turned round like a model for all to see and envy my design.
It was when the teacher asked me whether my daddy was a policeman that I lost heart. At the mention of policeman, everybody started laughing and I concluded that the teacher wasn’t admiring my head after all. All she wanted to do was to predict my daddy’s occupation using my head as a determinant. I wasn’t pleased with the attempt.
Today whenever it is getting to Palm Sunday 1 remember the incident. And actually I have always enjoyed Palm Sunday because deep within me, I’m a very religious person and I believe that once God will judge us by the purity of our hearts and not the bottles of beer we quaff, I shall also be in heaven together with Korkorti.
Now if you observe properly, you’d realise it is those who are not believers who celebrate Easter to the fullest. They understand the real meaning of Palm Sunday because they equate it to the birthday of palm wine. They actually mourn the death of Christ and rejoice at his resurrection using palm in the form of wine.
Palm Sunday is best marked in the rural areas where palm wine is always available from dawn to dusk and vice versa. Normally, people start Palm Sunday at exactly 4.15 am when the freshly-tapped wine starts arriving. But you have to begin slowly otherwise you’d be in coma before the sun rises.
Easter is due again and this time as usual, the action is right in the countryside. Kwahu is going to shake, Tapa Abotoase will somersault and Peki would explode. All over the world, these three Sikaman towns are ranked as places where Easter is best celebrated with a hangover assured.
People from Britain, Germany and Holland come down either to Obo Kwahu or Avetile Peki to celebrate Easter. They never miss it. It is a yearly ritual. They save towards the occasion.
So during the celebrations, people from all over the country also converge on these places and the celebrants compare haircuts and note carefully those who have grown lean and those who are neither growing lean or growing fat.
In fact, people assess their fellow human beings to ascertain whether they are becoming prosperous or are chewing grass. News is also brought from all over the globe and those from Germany (Jaaamani) are the loudest. The way they talk, you would never know they are cleaning the whiteman’s toilet to make some dough. You’ll think they are Managing Directors of a multinational corporation in Dusseldof. Such is life.
It is during church service on Easter Sunday that the been-tos and the locals alike display whatever they have under their sleeves. The gentlemen are often resplendent in suits and black shining pairs of shoes, and the way they walk can be a clue as to where they are sojourning. With seamen for instance, it can be quite psychedelic. It is a real sight to behold especially if they hail from Kromanti, Moree or Abandze.
With the ladies, the spectacle is breathtaking. It is unbelievable! You can’t comprehend it using the human senses. You have to employ spiritual means. The kaba styles are of different kinds, styles, colour and combination of colours. Some of the styles are complemented with wings and when the lady wearing it is hurrying to “chapel” you’ll think she is actually airborne. She is practically a human vulture.
Then comes the picnic sessions which are normally well-attended by gate crashers, mental patients and political strategists who are also well-versed with what is going on between Kwame Pianim and kukrudu. So they brief their listeners and prophesy the outcome of court cases and election results. In exchange, they are well-fed, well-boozed and all.
But things do not happen only during the day time. At night, the devil usually takes over. Friendships are entered into, old girlfriends are re-baptised and there is love and romance.
By Easter Monday, marriages are broken, new marriages contracted, girlfriends are jilted and pregnancies are on the way awaiting abortion. Every year it happens, and this year it is going to happen again. The death and resurrection of the Lord will really be marked in both righteous and evil ways.
Perhaps, this is not how Judas intended it to be celebrated. Judas was the architect of the Holy Friday coup d’état against the Son of Man.
This article was first published on Saturday March 30, 1996
The Ghanaian community in Finland on Saturday, March 14, 2026, celebrated Ghana’s 69th independence anniversary in an impressive event in Helsinki, the capital city of Finland.
The event was organised by the Ghana Union Finland (GUF), an association of Ghanaian migrants in Finland. It was an occasion well attended by many people from the Ghanaian community in Finland, Finns and other nationalities.
The occasion was graced by the Special Guest, Her Excellency Abigail Naa Adzoko Kwashi, the Ambassador of Ghana to Norway with concurrent accreditation to Finland and Iceland. In her speech, the Ambassador encouraged Ghanaians living in Finland to pursue unity, actively participate in, and support the Ghana Union Finland to build a stronger body better positioned to advocate for its interests and goals.
Also present at the event was the Honorary Consul of Ghana in Finland, Mrs Kati Kivisaari, who has replaced the retired Ms Ulla Alanko. Mrs Kivisaari urged Ghanaians in Finland to remain good ambassadors of Ghana in their lives in Finland.
The event saw the inauguration of new executive members of the Ghana Union Finland. The team was inducted by Elder Samuel Anini, Patron of the Ghana Union Finland.
Earlier, a “royal entry” was performed by leaders of the Asanteman Finland and Mfantseman Kuw and other personalities in their colourful kente attire adorned with ornaments, amidst traditional music and adowa dance to usher in the Ambassador.
Unity and harmony
I see such events, especially the ones marking independence anniversaries, as ample display of unity and harmony in the Ghanaian migrant community as well as in the larger Ghana and Finland relations.
Some personalities present at the event were Nana Ekuoba Gyasi Gyimah and other leaders of Asanteman Finland, Mfantseman Kuw Finland, as well as representatives of other Ghanaian ethnic groups.
It was a very colourful occasion with dance and other performances such as poetry recitals. The audience was also treated to tasty Ghanaian dishes such as jollof rice, fried yam, and soft drinks.
For me personally, whenever I think about Ghana’s Independence Day anniversary every 6th of March, my mind also goes to Finland’s own day on 6th of December. The two dates always give me such a special, positive feeling. As soon as one of the dates ends, I begin a countdown to the other (next) date.
Last year on December 6, 2025, when Finland celebrated its 108th independence anniversary and I participated in two events marking the celebration in Helsinki, I started looking forward to Ghana’s 69th anniversary this year. Now that Ghana’s anniversary is over, I am looking forward to Finland’s 109th anniversary on December 6, 2026. That’s the beauty of it all for me.
Ensuring integration
What I see in all this, especially for Ghanaian migrants in Finland, is the chance for members of the Ghanaian diaspora in Finland to integrate into the Finnish society through such celebrations that are marked by social activities, affiliations and ideas of inclusion.
Inclusion is key to integration, and the two ideas undoubtedly build a sense of belonging. As I previously wrote, Finland sees the role of migrant associations as bridge-builders for the integration and inclusion of migrants through participation in the decision making process and by acting as a representative voice, which is highly appreciated in Finland.
As I keep pointing out, Finland encourages migrants’ participation in the planning of issues concerning the migrants themselves, using such a strategy as one of the efficient ways to improve their inclusion.
Thus, there is an enabling environment created within the Finnish cultural ecology that undoubtedly helps migrants to integrate into the host Finnish society. Thank you!
By Perpetual Crentsil
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