Anatomy of a Border: Contradictory Discourses on Othering and Mobilities on the Ghana–Togo Border?

Abstract

Two “contradictory” perspectives of the borderlands exist: one is that the creation of arbitrary borders and different nationalities imposed on single communities and families not only others them and casts them as aliens in their traditional homelands but also restricts their mobilities and access to resources. The second perspective is that borderlanders do not recognise these borders and continue their activities as if the borders do not exist. This paper disentangles this contradiction by exploring how borders impact othering and mobility on the borderlands. Through historicising bordering practices based on people's lived experiences on the Ghana–Togo border, this paper argues these perspectives are complementary rather than contradictory. It shows how people's experiences of the border are shaped by bordering practices that are neither homogenous nor static. This paper highlights the complex relationships that point to a more nuanced understanding than this dichotomy.

Introduction

Human mobilities and its associated impact have come under renewed scrutiny as countries in the Global North ramp up regulations on migration from the Global South. This was epitomised by the United Kingdom's controversial “Rwanda Plan” to send asylum seekers to Rwanda under Rishi Sunak's government (McGee, 2024) and a general atmosphere of anti-migration politics throughout Europe and the United States (Varma and Roehse, 2024). As states in the Global North define new ways of controlling migration, it brings into sharp focus mobilities in Africa as many post-independence governments are still largely influenced by colonial and Global North-derived bordering norms, values, and practices despite promoting counter-colonial rhetoric and campaigns (Adotey, 2023; Moyo and Nshimbi, 2020; Ndlovu-Gatsheni, 2018).

One area of interest has been the inherited colonial borders and their challenges to othering and mobilities (Mbembe, 2017; Ndlovu-Gatsheni, 2017). These borders, as Szary notes, “overlap a political order that was not traditionally established on ‘mappable’ sovereignty. This may explain why, in some regions, collective representations have clashed so much with territorial borders” (2015: 17). This clash between collective representations and territorial borders has produced two “contradictory” perspectives of the borderlands: one is that the creation of arbitrary borders and different nationalities imposed on single communities and families not only others them and casts them as aliens or foreigners in their traditional homelands but also restricts their mobilities and access to resources that impact their well-being (Adotey, 2018a, 2020, 2021a, 2021b; Chipere-Ngazimbi, 2020; Moyo, 2016; Nshimbi, 2017). The second perspective is that borderlanders do not recognise these borders and continue their activities as if the borders do not exist (Adotey, 2018a, 2020, 2021a, 2021b; Chipere-Ngazimbi, 2020; Moyo, 2016; Nshimbi, 2017). This is succinctly expressed by Nugent (1996: 35):

African boundaries have suffered a consistently poor reputation. As “arbitrary” and “artificial” colonial constructs, conventional wisdom has it that they were imposed upon unwilling Africans who, according to two recurrent images, have either suffered dearly from their consequences or merrily continued with life as if they did not exist. These images are mutually contradictory – a point that is seldom noticed – but they are at least based upon a common assumption, namely that Africans had nothing to do with the making of their own boundaries.

This paper contributes to the debate on the impact of borders by disentangling this “contradiction.” It brings the temporal and spatial dimensions into a conversation with each other to explore the impact of the borders on identity, belonging, and mobility among those who inhabit borderlands. Through historicising bordering practices based on people's lived experiences on the Ghana–Togo border, this paper argues that these perspectives are complementary rather than contradictory. It highlights factors that are integral to shaping people's experiences of the border, such as what the border is, who defines it, where it is located, who can cross and under what circumstances, as well as the state's capacity to police these borders. These factors are neither static nor homogeneous. Over time, the same people or community can dearly suffer from the border and, at another time, merrily go about their activities as if the border does not exist. Similarly, people may experience the same border differently depending on who they are or where they belong or come from.

This paper is based on ethnographic studies conducted in six Ewe-speaking communities – Aflao, Nyive, Ave-Dzalele, Ave-Posumonu, Leklebi, and Wli – that straddle the Ghana–Togo border. The data were derived from participant observations of funerals, festivals, and enstoolment of chiefs, as well as interviews with chiefs, elders, community leaders, community members, commercial motor bicycle riders, and security officials at the Ghana–Togo border posts. ¹ Participants were first purposively sampled to provide specific insights because of their knowledge of the history of the border and the community. This was supplemented by random selection to provide general insights into border experiences. In addition to unstructured face-to-face interviews and group discussions, there were informal conversations with respondents in beer bars and on motor bicycles. The latter provided rich insider perspectives on how they navigate the border restrictions. Informed consent was secured from the informants. These were augmented by archival searches in the national and regional archives, Public Records and Archives Administration Department (PRAAD) in Accra and Ho, respectively, on the making of the border and people’s responses since its creation to show changes and/or continuities over time.

This paper is divided into four sections. The first section discusses the concepts – borders and bordering – that underpin the study. The second section discusses an examination of African mobilities and border management policies. The third section provides the historical context of the Ghana–Togo border and the partition and the othering of the Ewe-speaking people. The last section unravels the impact of the border across time and space.

Borders and Bordering

The work uses bordering to explore the meanings of othering and mobilities on the borderlands. The border, as conceived in current border studies, is not just a physical line but also the political, economic, social, and cultural constructions of these lines (Wilson and Donnan, 2012). As Parker and Adler-Nissen (2012: 782) put it, “[t]he border may be inscribed territorially, but it is manifest in human behaviour.” Van Houtum (2005: 671) points out that the border is “understood as a verb in the sense of bordering,” which examines “human practices that constitute and represent differences in space.” These human practices or bordering practices involve activities “that constitute, sustain or modify borders between states” (Parker and Adler-Nissen, 2012: 776). These include signing treaties, establishing border posts, erecting border pillars, patrolling the borders, cross-border activities such as the joint celebration of festivals, funerals, enstoolment of chiefs, cross-border allegiance to stools, ² and rotating markets. These are what Parker and Adler-Nissen (2012: 777) refer to as “‘border-making’, ‘border-sustaining’ and ‘de-bordering’ actions” (emphasis in original). Thus, it is imperative to acknowledge how the border can be sustained or undermined by the state, or non-state actors, to understand the impact of the border.

Bordering practices may be broadly categorised into bordering from “above” and “below,” that is border management policies of the state and non-state actors, respectively (Pas and Cavanagh, 2022; Clark, 2023). However, these do not refer to easily distinguishable categories as the formal and the informal do intermingle. For example, state agents can also enable the informal passage of others with bribery. Furthermore, the limited state capacity to police the border also means that laws are not exactly implemented to the letter.

Bordering is also about othering, which is defined as “a process in which, through discursive practices, different subjects are formed, hegemonic subjects – that is, subjects in powerful social positions as well as those subjugated to these powerful conditions” (Thomas-Olalde and Velho, 2011: 27). Imperative in bordering and othering is a distinction between “us” and “them.” It involves how people and spaces are included or excluded. According to Newman, “[t]he essence of a border is to separate the ‘self’ from the ‘other’ and bordering practices focus on how ‘territories and peoples are respectively included or excluded within a hierarchical network of groups, affiliations and identities” (2003: 14). However, in exploring otherness, the stability of these distinctions is critical to understanding the impact of the border. These distinctions between “us” and “them” can be fluid, as Parker and Adler-Nissen (2012: 780) point out:

The possibility of meeting an “Other” is always implicit in the activity of inscribing a line of difference. But the ironic corollary of such meetings is that while the Other can be initially experienced as, precisely, “Other,” at the same time, he/she/it/they open the question of whether they are indeed different, and hence to what extent the given identity determined by the border is stable.

Tavera reminds us that borders do not only separate but also connect. As such, borders should not be considered only as “markers of division but also socially constructed spaces of human transit and connection” (2020: 15). This paper adds that they should also be seen as conduits for mobilities. It draws on Creswell's conceptualisation of mobilities as comprising “the fact of physical movement: getting from one place to another; the representations of movement that give it shared meaning; and, finally, the experienced and embodied practice of movement” (as quoted in Pophiwa, 2020: 66). Related to understanding the impact of the border, Nyamnjoh’s argument that “the physical and social mobility of Africans is best understood as an emotional, relational and social phenomenon captured in the complexities, contradictions and messiness of their everyday realities” is very valuable in understanding mobilities on the borderlands (2013: 653).

Bordering also highlights the role of actors in both othering and mobilities, which are intrinsic to exploring the impact of the border. It helps in addressing Nugent's point about the mistaken perception that “Africans had nothing to do with the making of their own boundaries” (1996: 35). Bordering as a concept helps us understand how and when borders divide communities and cast certain groups as outsiders or foreigners. Additionally, it reveals how borders can either facilitate or hinder mobility. This perspective helps us to understand the factors that account for the merry and/or suffering Africans astride the border.

Bordering, thus, helps weave together the dynamics of the border. It shows how actors, both state and non-state, shape identities, mobilities, and access to resources and power. Significantly, it shows the changing nature of these practices.

Borders, Othering, and African Mobilities

This section examines the national borders of post-independence African states and their policies towards othering and African mobilities. Many of these borders are colonial creations (African Union Border Programme, 2014). These colonial borders were not only maintained at independence but reinforced by a continent-wide agreement under the aegis of the Organisation of African Unity (OAU), the continental body founded in 1963. Article III(3) of its charter called for “respect for the sovereignty and territorial integrity of each state and for its inalienable right to independent existence.” At the First Ordinary Session of the Assembly of Heads of State and Government of the OAU in 1964 in Cairo, this was reaffirmed in a resolution on “Border Disputes in Africa” (Resolution AHG/Res. 16(1)). Among the reasons for this position was that the borders “constitute a tangible reality” (Resolution AHG/Res. 16(1)). The African Union (AU), the successor body to the OAU, has not departed from this even as it seeks to unite the continent. Article IV (b) of its Constitutive Act (2000) also calls for the “respect of borders existing on achievement of independence.”

In other words, the creation of arbitrary borders and different nationalities imposed on single communities and families was to be maintained. A corollary of this reality is the othering of hitherto united people. Beyond the physical separation of families and communities, there is a severing or blockage of relations, with potential discriminatory consequences, for instance, based on the citizenship conferred on these borderlanders by the reality of the borders they were circumscribed within. As discussed in detail later, governments or state officials have prevented partitioned communities from interacting with each other, or when they are allowed to do so, these are under strenuous conditions.

However, while this adherence to territorial integrity, the sovereignty of states, and citizenship are integral to the border management policies of member states, one can discern other complementing policies towards mobilities and othering. Over the years, there have been sub-regional and continental agreements to promote the free movement of persons within the Regional Economic Commissions (RECs), which serve as the bedrock of the envisaged African Economic Community. ³ For instance, the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), of which Ghana and Togo are members, enshrines freedom of movement and residence in its founding treaty (Article XXVII) and in the revised ECOWAS Treaty of 1993 (Article LIX). ⁴ In addition, there is the Protocol Relating to Free Movement of Persons, Residence, and Establishment, which also restates the above guarantees to its members (Protocol A/P.1/5/79 relating to Free Movement of Persons, Residence, and Establishment). Other RECs, such as the Southern African Development Community, have similar provisions for the free movement of persons (Moyo and Nshimbi, 2020). The AU has policies that aim at facilitating mobilities across the continent. These include the Migration Policy Framework for Africa (2018–2030) and its Plan of Action. Its African Passport and Free Movement of People is also one of its key projects under the Agenda 2063: The Africa We Want.

There have also been attempts by some post-independence African states to recognise the pre-colonial cultural and familial relations that existed between families and communities. One attitude towards mobilities on the border is what Chipere-Ngazimbi (2020) describes as “invisible.” For example, the Zimbabwean and Zambian governments have allowed the pre-colonial socio-cultural links that existed between the Binga in Zimbabwe and the Sinazongwe in Zambia, separated by the Zambezi River, to continue through the creation of deliberate and enabling regulatory frameworks on migration and trade (Chipere-Ngazimbi, 2020).

Another approach that may be described as “blurred vision” exists between Ghana and its neighbouring countries of Togo, Cote d’Ivoire, and Burkina Faso. Ghana makes provision to permit “border residents” – nationals of these countries who live within 5 km of these borders – free movement across the border in pursuit of their routine economic or social matters (Immigration Act of 2000 [Act 573], section 3(4)). This is in recognition of the historical and cultural ties between communities on the borderlands.

Nevertheless, while there has been some progress made regarding easing the restrictions on mobilities through common sub-regional identities, such as ECOWAS passports for citizens of member states and the relaxation of visa requirements by some African countries for AU citizens, many borders remain securitised with irksome immigration requirements that make it difficult to cross the borders, even for members who belong to the same REC (Moyo, 2020; Moyo and Nshimbi, 2020; Adotey, 2023). Where attempts have been made to liberalise the borders, this has been at the expense of those in the informal category, such as informal cross-border traders (Moyo, 2016; Nshimbi, 2018; Tevera, 2020). The AU passport aims at abolishing visas for all African nationals, but it is yet to be implemented (African Union, n.d.). Consequently, many African countries still require visas for citizens of other AU countries (African Development Bank, 2023).

How do these borderlanders reconcile these policies with their daily lives on the border? Studies show that the securitised approach to the border notwithstanding, many Africans crisscross the borders for familial visits, socio-cultural, political, or economic activities (Moyo, 2016; Nshimbi, 2017; Adotey, 2018a, 2021a, 2021b; Bewiadzi, 2021; Adotey and Ntewusu, 2024; Nti, 2024). This is either through the legal entry and exit points or the “illegal” ones that sometimes go through people's backyards or farms. The latter entry points may involve bribing officials.

Another response is “enforcing” the border by invoking the nation-state or nationality to restrict mobility and access to resources across the border (Nugent, 2002). Access to resources such as land and fishing rights across the border has generated conflicts between hitherto unified communities before the partition with the appropriation of the border to deny access to the “other” (Lentz, 2003; Chipere-Ngazimbi, 2020). Similarly, accession to the stool has been a source of conflict in these partitioned communities, with some arguing that families in another country are not eligible because they are “citizens” of that country (Adotey, 2021a, 2021b). Effectively, while the border may be porous or permeable, it does not guarantee inclusion or access to resources.

It is within these multiple contexts of bordering that this paper examines the impact of the border on othering and mobility on the Ghana–Togo border. It highlights the intersection of people, power, space, and time on the borderlands and unravels the “contradictory” experiences of the border.

The Ghana–Togo Border

The historical context of the Ghana–Togo border is imperative to appreciate the othering and mobility issues among the Ewe-speaking people astride the border. The Ewe-speaking people are found in present-day Ghana, Togo, Benin, and Nigeria. They did not constitute a centralised polity before their partition by the colonial borders in the late nineteenth century. These were mainly autonomous dukɔwo (towns) who collaborated when needed. They, however, shared a common history of origin, cultural beliefs, and practices such as religion, naming, marriage, burial rites, and mutually intelligible language (Amenumey, 1989; Gavua, 2000; Meyer, 2002). Amenumey (1989: i) thus asserts that the Ewe were “a homogeneous ethnic group that came to be divided into three political units” about the Ewe in the Gold Coast, British Togoland, and French Togo. Nugent, on the other hand, argues that “as seductive as the appeal to an ethnic essence might be, it is incumbent upon the historian to bear in mind that it constituted a project and not a description of the world as it actually existed” (2002: 163). It has also been argued regarding the impact of these European partitions on traditional polities that “traditional African polities were often polyethnic, or encompassed only a segment of an ethnic group, and did not correspond to the modern European concept of ‘nation states’” (Touval, 1966: 293) and “such polities could be segments of larger ethnic groups devoid of an effective common political authority” (Touval, 1966: 291).

It is important to distinguish between the border dividing the Ewe as a centralised people comprising many different polities or Ewe sub-groups and each polity. In other words, the border did not divide the Ewe as a centralised people, but it did divide some of its components at the local level. For example, the Ave people are split between Togo and Ghana, but it is Ave-Dzalele and Ave-Atanve of Ghana who are split from their mother polity in Edzi in Togo, the others belong to different groups. Similarly, the Anglo-German border agreement (1887) divided individual Ewe polities, such as Kpeve and Aflao, between the British colony of the Gold Coast (Ghana) and the German territory of Togoland (Togo). There were other layers of partition for the Ewe-speaking people in German Togo. They were divided between the British and the French when German Togoland came under these nations during the First World War in 1914. The formal partition was concluded under the Franco-British Declaration of 1919 (ADM 39/1/199, PRAAD, Accra).

It is worth noting that attempts were made by the boundary commission to establish where the border should be located on the ground, and whether villages wanted to be under the British administration or French administration (see Nugent, 2002). Nonetheless, the outcome of the borders was largely driven by European interests. On the Ghana–Togo border, it reflects the colonial partition of families, communities, and lands. In Wli, which comprises Wli-Afegame, Wli-Agorviefe, and Wli-Todzi, the two communities of Wli-Afegame and Wli-Agorviefe are in Ghana while Wli-Todzi is divided between Ghana and Togo. In Leklebi, the town of Leklebi-Kame-Tornu that straddles the border, some houses and farms are partly in Ghana and Togo, and Nyive is divided into Ghana-Nyive and Togo-Nyive.

In 1922, these territories were formally given to the British and French as League of Nations Mandated Territories and later as United Nations (UN) Trust Territories in 1945. These were known as British Togoland and French Togo. Not only did these colonial borders divide Ewe dukɔwo such as Aflao, Edzi, Nyive, Leklebi, and Wli, but these borders imposed a “hard” division among the Ewe-speaking people who had to negotiate the colonial borders to interact with each other. As Akyeampong (2001: 192) suggests regarding the Ewe unification movement, the Anlo Ewe who were at the forefront of the Ewe unification were “demanding a free trade zone that predated the imposition of colonial frontiers. The emphasis here was on free mobility, not a separate polity for Eweland.” The UN recognised this hardship imposed by the borders and stated in one of its reports:

The Trusteeship Council is aware that the petition of the All Ewe Conference represents the wishes of the majority of the Ewe population, and observed that the representatives of the Administering Authorities have recognized the point of view of the Ewe people.

The Council also realised that the existing frontiers dividing the Ewe people have been a cause of real difficulty to them and that this division has aroused real resentment on their part. (Trusteeship [1947 Report], DA/D 90, PRAAD, Ho)

In 1956, the UN organised a plebiscite to determine if British Togoland wished to remain independent or join the Gold Coast, which was about to attain independence (Amenumey, 1989; Nugent, 2002; Skinner, 2015). Fifty-eight per cent of the registered voters in British Togoland voted to join the Gold Coast. This brought the Ewe in the Gold Coast and British Togoland together as part of the new nation, Ghana at independence in 1957. On the other hand, it also resulted in the division of some Ewe dukɔwo between the newly independent Ghana and French Togo, which became Togo at independence in 1960. It is this border that accounts for the partitioned communities, such as Ave-Dzalele, Wli, Leklebi, and Nyive. In effect, communities, polities, and families who have their lands and, in some cases, their buildings partly in Ghana and Togo are legally “aliens” in their own homes and lands across the border.

The othering of the Ewe-speaking people by the colonial borders in their homelands is not unique; there are similarly partitioned ethnic groups in many of the borderlands of Africa. On the Zimbabwe and Botswana border, the Venda share similar experiences (Moyo, 2016), the Tonga are divided between Zimbabwe and Zambia (Chipere-Ngazimbi, 2020), the Kwanyama between Angola and Namibia (Brambilla, 2007), the Somalis in Kenya, Ethiopia, and Somalia (Okumu, 2010), and the Hausa between Nigeria and Niger (Miles, 2015; see Asiwaju, 1984 for a comprehensive list across the continent).

While the 1956 plebiscite in British Togoland could be construed as the people participating in determining the Ghana–Togo border, it should be mentioned that many of the Ewe-speaking communities voted against integration with the Gold Coast. In the two Ewe-dominated southern sections of Togoland, Kpandu and Ho districts, the votes were 33.5 per cent and 66.5 per cent for and against integration, respectively, in Kpandu, and in Ho 27.5 per cent and 72.5 per cent for and against integration, respectively. This, as Nugent (2002) rightly cautions, should not be read solely in ethnic terms. For instance, in the case of Nyive (a community divided by the boundary), support for integration with the Gold Coast should not be automatically interpreted as a rejection of Ewe ethnic nationalism. It is also worth highlighting the paradox of colonial borders on Ewe identities (see Meyer, 2002; Adotey, 2013 on the German factor). The colonial partition emphasised the divisions of the Ewe and made them more conscious of their common identity. One of the prominent Ewe chiefs, Togbe Dei X of Peki, in a letter to the Governor of the Gold Coast, Sir Alan Burns, stated: “A united Eweland after the war is what we are looking forward to as a means of real advancement for the Ewe people as it was before the German administration” (as quoted in Amenumey, 1989: 37). It also led to the formation of organisations seeking the unification of the Ewe-speaking people across the three colonial borders (on the Ewe unification movement, see Amenumey, 1989). The most prominent was the All-Ewe Conference formed in 1946 in the Gold Coast. Its leadership included people from the Gold Coast, such as Daniel Ahmling Chapman (Ghana's first permanent representative to the UN), Ephraim Amu (who composed Ghana's unofficial national anthem, Yen Ara Asaase Ni), Philip Gbeho (who composed Ghana's national anthem), and Sylvanus Epiphanio Olympio (the first president of Togo) from French Togo. Olympio argued the case for Ewe unification at the UN Trusteeship Council in 1947. This common Ewe consciousness and identity was also facilitated by colonial policies, such as the use of Anlo Ewe as the “standard” Ewe language in both government and mission schools in the Gold Coast and Togo (Lawrance, 2007).

It is these cross-border ethnic identities forged by pre-colonial relations, colonial experiences, and deliberate propaganda by cultural brokers that make the border salient to othering and mobilities among the Ewe-speaking people astride the Ghana–Togo border to which we now turn.

Suffering and/or Merry Africans on the Borderlands?

This section examines how the colonially constructed borders in Africa, here Ghana–Togo, are made, re-made, appropriated, and circumvented and its impact on mobility and othering. What does it mean for the image of the merry or suffering borderlanders? The four-pronged approach to unravel this “contradiction” – what, where, when, and who is the border – contributes to border studies as an analytical tool for understanding the spatial and temporal dimensions and effects of the borders and bordering practices.

It first examines how the border is defined by different actors – state and non-state – because this affects identities and mobilities. As Vila rightly states:

not only do different people construct different borders and disparate identities around those borders but those different borders acquire a distinct weight in relation to the different subject positions (and different narratives within those subject positions) that people decide to identify with. (as quoted in Naples, 2009: 8)

What Is the Border?

Van Houtum defines the boundary and the border as “a line demarcated in space” and “the socio-spatially constructed differences between cultures/categories,” respectively (2005: 672). Newman states that the demarcation does “not only mean the cartographic plotting of lines and points of coordination, but also the rules and regulations which determine the existence of difference in the first place and, by association the borders within which such difference is enclosed” (2003: 17). This begs the question of what the “lines” look like and where the lines are.

To some borderlanders, the border is an “imaginary line” (Adotey, 2021a, 2021b). In other words, it exists only in the imagination of the state actors as it is insignificant in their daily lives. They point to cross-border economic, political, and socio-cultural relations among the partitioned communities. On these borderlands, people's lives are intertwined, and there is joint participation in naming, marriage, burials, and other cultural practices. Some chiefs identify as “international chiefs,” that is their jurisdiction transcends international borders (Adotey, 2018a). They are involved in the enstoolment and burial of chiefs across the border and contemporary funeral posters of chiefs point to these cross-border relations (Adotey, 2018b). They are also involved in the delivery of justice across the border. As one chief in Ghana stated, their “supreme court” is in Togo and judgement from his court could be referred to that in Togo (Togbe, 2013, personal communication). There is also the joint celebration of festivals to commemorate their joint history and shared culture, as well as familial relations which is evident in the same surnames on both sides of the border (Adotey, 2021a, 2021b).

Essentially, people literally wake up on one side of the border, eat breakfast, lunch, or dinner with families on either side of the border, and then sleep on the other side of the border. Like those in Ghana, those in Togo have national identification cards and other state-issued cards in Ghana, such as the National Health Insurance Scheme (NHIS) of Ghana for access to health care and voter identification cards as “proof” of their “dual nationality” (Robert-Nicoud, 2019; Adotey, 2021a, 2021b). In other words, they continue their lives merrily as if the border does not exist.

Yet, it is an imaginary line with real consequences. For instance, in Ave-Dzalele in Ghana, people had to seek permission from Togolese officials to bury their dead in Edzi in Togo, which is the mother polity (Adotey, 2018a ). As they pointed out, failure to inform the Togolese official resulted in punishments. Among the Ewe-speaking, it is part of the cultural practices to bury people at “home,” hence the need to endure the frustration (Togbe, 2013, personal communication). This contributed to the creation of a cemetery for them in Ave-Dzalele. Thus, as they go about their cultural practices as if the border does not exist, it is done within the context of navigating the border. Border officials are “informed” even if their permission is not sought for members to cross over to participate in activities such as funerals and festivals (Togbe, 2013, personal communication). There have been instances where security personnel at the border have prevented them from crossing the border pointing to the reality of the border.

The question of land also shows interesting dynamics on the borderlands. Ownership of lands across the border is recognised. For example, those farming Wli lands in Togo recognise that they are tenants so they contribute part of their harvest towards collective activities, such as festivals, or individually to the landlords as per the land tenure agreements (Adotey, 2021a ). People also farm on their lands across the border. However, like the challenges imposed in the cultural sphere noted above, recognition, access to, and use of land across the border are fraught with challenges. There have been accusations of “smuggling” and harassment by security officials of persons taking the produce from their farms across the border. One farmer asked indignantly how he could be “smuggling” from his farm (Theophilus, 2018, personal communication). The tenants too have taken advantage of the border to arrogate certain authorities to themselves, such as enstooling a chief on Wli land on the Togo side without recourse to the landlords (Togbewo et al., 2017, personal communication). In this regard, the border may not be imaginary after all. As some borderlanders put it, yevuwo ma mia anyigba, gake wo me ateɳu ama mia kↄnuwo me o (the Europeans divided our land, but they cannot divide our custom), which indicates a recognition of a line that separates but may be ignored despite the challenges. This segues into where the border is.

Where Is the Border?

This refers to for mobility, the officially designated entry and exit points. The Ghana Immigration Act 2000 (Act 573) states under section 3(1), “[a] person shall not enter Ghana except by one of the approved places of entry into Ghana,” and under section 11(1), it states that “[a] person shall not leave Ghana, except by an approved place of departure.” These places are listed in the act. The act goes on to state that it is a punishable offence, “liable on summary conviction to a fine of not less than one million cedis or to a term of imprisonment of not less than three months or more than one year or to both” (section 11(2)). Any other passage besides these points is illegal, even if one is moving from one part of his house to the other or one part of his farm to the other separated by the border, which is the case in many of these borderlands.

However, the border may not impact members of these border communities in the same way, because of the different dynamics regarding where the border is. First, where the border is located affects how easily accessible it is, akin to where pedestrian crosswalks are – closer or farther away from the bus stop. Nevertheless, having a border post or official border crossing in a border town does not necessarily translate into easy access across the border, as the border post could be located away from where the border separates people's homes and lands. For instance, in Wli, the border post is in Wli-Agorviefe which is in the valley while Wli-Todzi on the mountain is the town that has its lands separated by the Ghana–Togo border. In effect, those in Wli-Todzi must descend the mountain range, home to Ghana's tallest mountain, Afadzato (885 m), to legally exit Ghana to their farm in Togo. Hence, in Wli, the people in Wli-Agorviefe and Wli-Afegame have experiences other than those in Wli-Todzi.

Second, border posts might not be located at the edge of the border but within the town before the border. For example, in Leklebi, the border post was stationed at Leklebi-Dafor. However, the land that straddles the border is Leklebi-Kame-Tornu – a town away. This means that the people of Leklebi-Kame have to negotiate some of the challenges associated with crossing an international border into Togo within their community in Ghana. Such spatial mobility of borders is not unique to Ghana–Togo, as Moyo (2020) demonstrates similar patterns in Botswana, South Africa, and Zimbabwe. One elderly resident, David, shared that he was once prevented from crossing the border from Leklebi-Dafor to Leklebi-Kame after 6.00 p.m. “When I retired and was moving my belongings to Kame, I was refused permission to cross the border post after six in the evening even though I was in a branded Audit Service vehicle. I had to go and sleep at Duga and continue the next day” (David, 2018, personal communication).

Interestingly, the issue was not resolved when the border post was transferred to Leklebi-Kame. The relocation from Leklebi-Dafor to Leklebi-Kame meant that the restrictions that people in the towns before the border ⁵ had to endure crossing to Leklebi-Kame were no longer present. However, this was not the case for Leklebi-Kame. The border was about 300 km inside Ghana from the boundary with Togo and hence some community members after the border. The closure of the border in 2020 meant that these Ghanaians could not partake in activities, including voter registration in Ghana. This elicited an appeal from the president of the Volta Region House of Chiefs (VRHC), Togbe Afede XIV, to the Electoral Commission for a special arrangement for those Ghanaians to register to vote (Noretti, 2020). In 2022, the VRHC called for investigations into border enforcement as there were complaints from the community that they were still divided despite claims from the authorities that it had been rectified (VRHC, 2022).

Third, in many cases, the farther you are from the border post, the less interaction you may have with the border officials. Communities without border posts do not have frequent encounters with border officials which sometimes results in excessive scrutiny and harassment. For instance, those in Wli-Afegame and Wli-Todzi as well as Leklebi-Agbesia, Leklebi-Fiafe, Leklebi-Duga, and Leklebi-Dafor further away from the border post have different experiences of the border from their relations in Wli-Agorviefe and Leklebi-Kame due to their proximity.

It is, however, worth noting that while border management policies of the government, as Newman (2003: 18) points out “reflects, and determines, the nature of trans-boundary interaction, ranging from closed and sealed borders to permeable and porous borders enabling freedom of movement from one category to another,” the border could be (re)positioned and repurposed by borderlanders even in communities with border posts. For example, around the Aflao–Lomé border, the border today has shifted from the large official portal at the coast to the pliable barbed wire fence just a half kilometre to the north, in the neighbourhood of Kodjoviakopé where hundreds of informal traders pass each day ducking under the fence in return for a small fee to soldiers. ⁶ The collaboration of some officials also shows how the formal and informal merge as well as the artificialness of the borders.

The above scenarios point to tensions between merry and suffering Africans. However, this is mitigated by the location of the border. In other words, border experiences vary for different people within the same communities or the same people but at different times.

When Is the Border?

The official borders have not always remained open; border closures may be occasioned by sour relations between neighbouring countries, to protect the country's economic or security interests, for example, the Ghana–Togo border during the National Redemption Council/Supreme Military Council junta (1972–1979). This was largely due to the activities of the National Liberation Movement of Western Togoland (TOLIMO), a secessionist group in the Volta Region (on TOLIMO, see Brown, 1980). The closure could also be because of an epidemic, such as COVID-19, or to enforce a sanction against a member of a REC, for example, ECOWAS members against Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso (Aljazeera, 2024).

The Ewe astride the Ghana–Togo border have experienced border closures that have impacted their interactions with families and stools across the border. For instance, except for brief periods between 1960 and 1965, the Kwame Nkrumah government closed the Ghana–Togo border (Brown, 1980). In 1960, the government banned the movement of persons and goods between the two countries as the government argued: “to bring home more clearly and unmistakably that union between Ghana and Togo was natural and inevitable” (as quoted in Amenumey, 1989: 345). Chiefs had to apply for a permit to visit their farms in Togo (RAO/C 964, PRAAD, Ho). One of the elders of Togo-Nyive who lived through that period stated that it was considered a serious offence to be seen in Ghana-Nyive (Togbe, 2013, personal communication). This put a strain on family and chiefly relations. Different names were given to the stools in Ghana-Nyive to avoid creating the impression that the Togo-Nyive chief was the chief of Ghana-Nyive. As he noted, “We avoided this because I told you otherwise it would be the same Gle over there” (Togbe, 2013, personal communication). In contrast to the 1960s, by the 2000s, people could move freely across the border and go about their lives as if the border did not exist because Ghana had normalised relations with Togo. There was joint participation in socio-cultural activities such as the enstoolment of chiefs, funerals, marriages, and even in the provision of labour by those in Togo-Nyive for the construction of a school in Ghana-Nyive (Adotey, 2018a, 2018b).

Since Ghana returned to democratic governance in 1992, the Ghana–Togo border has been a site of contestation resulting in border closures. During the 2008 general elections, the New Patriotic Party (NPP) government closed only the Ghana–Togo border to prevent “Togolese” from participating in the polls, leading to accusations of bias against the Ewe-speaking people from the president of the VRHC (Adotey, 2020).

The outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 also led to the closure of Ghana's international borders. This put a heavy toll on cross-border trade, especially with Togo, as Lome is one of Ghana's major sources of imports (Nti, 2024; Rouillé et al., 2024). The impact prompted Aflao residents and traders to protest for its reopening. Clad in red and black, traditionally mourning colours in many parts of Ghana to show the dire situation, some carried placards with messages, such as mie fu kpem (we are suffering) (Ahiable, 2021).

Nonetheless, as the state is unable to enforce these policies because of its limited capacity in terms of personnel and other resources and the complicity of its officials, these “closed” borders – just like “official” entry and exit points – may be ineffective. Chalfin (2001) points to how traders smuggle goods on the Ghana–Togo–Burkina Faso border. Within the Aflao–Lomé border region, the “beats,” or footpaths, were used daily by hundreds of informal traders to and from Togo, particularly during and post-COVID when the official border remained closed (Bewiadzi, 2021; Nti, 2024; Rouillé et al., 2024). These “beats” are not only symptomatic of larger, longer-term border dynamics but also seem a more effective response to the state's shutdown of border crossing.

In other areas, borderlanders have also been instrumental in carrying people across the border through the “illegal” routes when the borders are closed. As one motorcycle rider at Ave-Dzalele intimated, he discussed alternate routes that they use to send people across the border when the border is closed, de wotu, menye mↄa o (it is the border that has been closed not the way [to Togo]) (motorcycle rider, 2013, personal communication). Thus, while the border closures may inconvenience borderlanders and informal cross-border traders, it does not necessarily hamper their mobility across the border.

It is evident that there are “sufferings” from border closures, but as these closures are not always applied to the letter or can be evaded because of the porosity of the borders, their negative impact may not be felt by some.

Who Can Cross the Border?

Another important factor in understanding the impact of the border is who can cross the border. Simply put, anyone with the requisite documents can cross the border. However, this is not as straightforward as it seems because many people do not possess travel documents such as passports or national identity cards. As indicated earlier, Ghana is a signatory to the ECOWAS protocol on the free movement of citizens of the member states. The Immigration Act section 3(4) also makes room for some special dispensation to border residents, as noted earlier. However, this special dispensation has limitations; it mentions the possibility of regulations for free movement but nothing definite. Furthermore, it refers to routine economic and social matters but, on the borderlands, the “routine” matters include political and cultural ones. For instance, chiefs owe allegiance to chiefs across the border (Adotey, 2018a). This means that even for those who could be granted some “privileges,” these do not fully speak to their daily realities on the borderlands.

The debates over “alien” voters – ostensibly Togolese-Ewe – in Ghana's democratic elections since 1992 (see Robert-Nicoud, 2019; Adotey, 2020) speak to, as Adotey argues, “tensions between local/ethnic identities in culturally demarcated spaces and national identity/citizenship promoted by states” (2018: 575). In the runup to the 2016 general elections in Ghana, the NPP Volta Regional branch launched “Operation Eagle Eye” – a campaign to prevent “Togolese” voters from participating in the elections. Meanwhile, its main opponent, the National Democratic Congress, encouraged “Ghanaians” in Togo to come and vote during the elections (Adotey, 2020). Underlying these contrasting positions on the Ghana–Togo border are Ghana's political configurations with each party excluding or including groups to bolster its base (Adotey, 2020).

However, who gets in or out is not the sole prerogative of the state officials or party representatives. At the local level as Raunet (2016: 8) rightly argues, chiefs and borderlanders are central to facilitating or impeding mobility on the borderlands. As she points out, “chiefs and their borderland communities are agents that mitigate state structure in the shaping of mobility practices.” These local identities have implications for national identities since the jurisdiction of these traditional leaders coincides with that of the state. Chiefs have been called upon to vouch for the identity of the people prevented by security officials from crossing the border. This is because, in many cases, these officials are non-indigenes and, hence, do not know who an indigene is. These borderlands have attracted many migrants because of the economic opportunities provided by cross-border trade and the development of cocoa cultivation in southeast Ghana. In one instance, narrated by a borderlander, he was prevented from crossing to Ghana because the official claimed he was not a Ghanaian. “The immigration officer refused to let me back in Ghana from Togo. He said I did not come from Ghana. My uncle who is the chief in Ghana had to intervene before I was allowed to cross the border” (Pozo, 2013, personal communication).

Besides chiefs, borderlanders play important roles in mobility on the borderlands. On the Aflao–Lomé border, an entire industry of facilitators has grown up around the “beats.” Bewiadzi (2021) points to their roles as brokers between traders and security officials. On the Benin–Nigeria border, chiefs play similar roles in facilitating cross-border movements by negotiating with state officials (Flynn, 1997). Thus, despite the role of state officials, chiefs and borderlanders can and do use their position on the borderlands to influence who can and cannot cross the border.

It is important to state that who can cross the border is not only about physical crossing but also belongingness. Some chiefs, like security officials have not always been neutral arbiters. They have used it to reassert their influence over “strangers,” especially in adjudicating land disputes (Raunet, 2016). Some chiefs also indicated that their “brothers” and “sisters” from the other side of the border could not be enstooled as chiefs on their side of the border. The argument was that the borders had separated them into two different countries. To justify his position, a chief posed the rhetorical question “how can a chief in Togo rule in Ghana if the border between the two countries is closed?” (Togbe, 2013, personal communication). A chief in Ghana also declared his “independence” from his overlord in Togo because he was on Ghanaian soil (Togbe, 2013, personal communication). In effect, the border may not affect pre-colonial family or political relations but does in another. Thus, Nugent is right when he asserts that Africans are active participants in constructing and maintaining the borders. While it may be argued that the presence of the border makes it possible for it to be invoked in the first place, it nonetheless points to othering from below too.

From the foregoing discussions on what, where, when, and who of the border, it is evident from the above that the colonial border impacted peoples by separating them and from their lands. Furthermore, state and non-state actors have been engaged in creative re-appropriation and re-purposing of the border which affects othering and mobilities. While borderlanders have suffered marginalisation and discrimination on the border as a consequence, this does not apply to all borderlands and borderlanders across time and space due to factors such as where, when, and who can cross the border. Besides, because the state is unable to police the border effectively, the impact of laws for example on the closure of the border has little or no effect on the people. Hence, merry and suffering Africans astride the border could exist side by side.

Conclusion

This work examines common assumptions regarding the political, economic, and socio-cultural consequences of the border that are framed as antithetical. It provides a nuanced understanding of the temporal and spatial dimensions of the border and how these interconnections manifest on the Ghana–Togo border on the same or different peoples. By historicising bordering practices on the border, it shows how these perspectives address different facets of the same issue; borderlanders can both dearly suffer from the border and merrily go about their activities as if the border does not exist. Mobilities and othering, like chiefly performance on the Ghana–Togo border examined by Wilfahrt and Letsa (2023: 441), “varies substantially even within a circumscribed geographic space.”

The following scenarios could lead to multiple experiences of the same border. First, the border may or may not impact the borderlanders who belong to the same community due to where the border is – that is their proximity to the border. Furthermore, the temporal mobility of borders could lead to different people within the same community having different experiences of the border as it moves from one place to another. Second, the experience of the same community or individuals could change at different times because of when there is a border, that is “open” or “closed” borders. Third, border experiences may be shaped by who is crossing the border as not everyone can cross with the same level of ease or difficulty. Finally, the state’s capacity not only to police the borders but also the role of its officials in enforcing the border may mean that the impact of the border may be significant and/or insignificant. This paper highlights the complex relationships that point to a more nuanced understanding than this dichotomy between merry and suffering Africans.