A Ghanaian child's tale: Hannah Adzo Klutsey at 10 years old

Hannah Adzo Klutsey draws water from the well with the practised ease that comes from doing the same thing three times a day, every day. She eases the rope through her hands until the plastic tub emerges from the lip of the well, then decants the clear liquid into a large bucket. Not a drop is spilt.

By her feet, chickens peck at the ground, oblivious to – or perhaps disdainful of – a puppy that wants to join in the game.

Fetching water is Hannah’s contribution to her family’s daily life. Twenty yards from the well, across the sandy ground of a compound on the outskirts of Ghana’s capital, Accra, most of the Klutseys – Hannah’s mother Mary, father Benjamin and elder brothers Alfred and Jacob – sit outside their breezeblock house and reflect on the past five years. Hannah’s middle brother Samuel, 15, is missing – presumed playing football.

Things are very difficult these days, says Mary. “I don’t even know how to put it,” she adds with a laugh. “My husband’s employment has gone bad and he’s basically jobless, so raising money to support the family is tough. We struggle to raise 50 cedi [£8] a week. It’s not enough for us all to survive on.”

The couple used to farm nearby land to grow cassava – to eat and take to market. But two years ago, the owners of the land returned and sold it to developers. Today, the Klutseys’ income depends entirely on Benjamin, who earns money digging out sand that goes to Accra by the lorryload to feed the capital’s construction boom.

“We can fill a truck in an hour,” he says. “When we go there as a group, they pay us as a group, and we share the money among ourselves. Sometimes we go and there are jobs; sometimes there aren’t.”

Benjamin’s on-off wages just about stretch to cover his children’s education. Hannah goes to school every day, setting out at 5am and coming home at 3pm. In her Ewe language, interspersed with words of English, she talks about her lessons, which cost her parents 60 cedi a term.

“I learn English, natural sciences, creative arts and maths,” she says. “My favourite subjects are maths and natural sciences. In my class, there are 30 boys and girls.”

She gets a meal at school – usually rice and stew. Sanitation is more of a challenge – all the children at school, boys and girls alike, share a single toilet.

When she isn’t at school, Hannah likes watching TV, listening to music (the Ghanaian gospel singer Diana Asamoah is a favourite) and playing ampe, a local jumping and clapping game that is part-workout, part-coordination exercise, part-sport.

A taciturn 10-year-old, Hannah is not one to boast, but she does concede that she’s pretty strong and pretty good at ampe. She loves eating jollof rice and, when funds permit, her vices are Fanta and toffees.

Despite a bad outbreak of rashes on her skin and occasional headaches and fevers, she has been lucky with her health. Mary and Benjamin’s first child, another daughter, died at the age of 12 after complaining of stomach pains.

Hannah and her parents share a large bed inside their one-room house, which is the size of a large garden shed. Her brothers sleep on the hard concrete floor, sandwiched between the bed and the cushionless sofa and chair that line the wall opposite.

When the single bulb that hangs from the corrugated-iron ceiling is switched on, it just about illuminates the room, showing a TV set, an ancient video recorder and a clothesline over the bed.

Although Ghana was the first country in sub-Saharan Africa to reach the millennium development goal on halving extreme poverty, the Klutseys’ daily struggle to keep afloat is typical of those who live in Greater Accra.

Life in northern Ghana, which has yet to reap the benefits of two decades of economic development, is far tougher. Disparities in health, wealth, education and nutrition drive northerners to seek out a new life in ever-swelling Accra, where many end up as street hawkers.

The plot of land on which the Klutseys live in Kpobiman, in Greater Accra, was bush a decade ago. Today, new houses are rising all around, behind the shacks that sell dried fish and malt drinks to passing traffic on the main road.

Benjamin is vaguely aware of the millennium development goals. He feels that, in some ways, life has improved. His family has safe water to drink from the well that his elder brother sank eight years ago, an outside toilet and – as of three months ago – its own electricity supply. But with the loss of the land they farmed and the absence of regular work, he has no idea how he will be able to fund his children’s aspirations. His eldest, Alfred, 19, dreams of becoming a visual artist.

His youngest has a more practical goal. “I want to be a medical doctor,” says Hannah. “In the future, I want to be a doctor in order to help sick people.” That, as Hannah and her parents well know, will take many years of study and a lot of money. And yet, they do not dismiss their daughter’s ambition.

“If God supports us we should be able to do it,” says Mary. “We will be very happy because she will come and support us in all ways.”

Source: Theguardian.com

By: Sam Jones in Accra

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