The stories of four women
“Wake up, Zaharawu.”
“Is it morning already?”
“It’s past 6 am. Today is a market day, and you know how long the bathroom queue can be. I just counted eight buckets outside the door.”
“Thanks, Zelia. I would have slept till 8 am. I didn’t even hear the call to prayer.”
“I didn’t wake you up much earlier because I thought you were sick.”
“Well, my bones are aching, but I am fine.”
“I went to Abukari’s place last night. I got in around 4:30 am and couldn’t sleep.”
“Abukari again? I thought you said you had broken up with him.”
“Yes, I had, but he called yesterday to apologise and invited me over.”
“I don’t know what is wrong with you. After all his womanising, you still agreed to get back with him. What about Hassan?”
“He is still my man.”
“How is he still your man?”
“I will go out with both of them. Now I am wiser. I won’t give my love to one person. Why should I when I know they have other girlfriends?”
“You have to be careful of STDs. You also don’t want to be pregnant now. Look at how some of our colleagues with children are suffering and have been abandoned by the men.”
“Don’t worry, that won’t happen to me. I will try and get them to use a condom.”
“Did he use a condom last night?”
“No, he didn’t. Next time, I will insist.”
“You know this is not true. Stop deceiving yourself.”
“Anyway, let’s forget about these men and talk about something else.”
“No, I won’t. I just don’t want you to end up like Habiba and the others. Why can’t you stay away from all these guys until you are older and more mature?”
“Stay away from them? That’s not possible. They give me money when I am broke, and I enjoy sex.” “Well, if you live within your means and manage the little money you make, you won’t(CONTINUE READING)
Kayayei are sometimes faced with two bad choices so they must choose between the lesser evil
‘Wake up Zaharawu’.
‘Ermmm, is it morning?’
‘It is past 6am. Today is a market day and you know how long the bathroom queue is. I just counted eight buckets outside the door’
‘Thanks, Zelia. I would have slept till 8am. I didn’t even hear the call to prayer.’
‘I didn’t wake you up much earlier because I thought you were sick’
‘Well, my bones are aching but I am fine’
‘I went to Abukari’s place last night. I got in around 4:30am and couldn’t sleep’
‘Abukari again? I thought you said you had broken up with him?’
‘Yes, I had. But he called yesterday to apologize and invited me over’
‘I don’t know what is wrong with you. After all his womanizing you still agreed to get back with him. What about Hassan? Where are you putting him?’
‘He is still my man’
‘How is he still your man?’
‘I will go out with both of them. Now I am wiser. I won’t give my love to one person. Why should I when I know they have other girlfriends?’
‘You have to be careful of STD’s. You also don’t want to be pregnant now. Look at how some of our colleagues with children are suffering and have been abandoned by the men.’
‘Don’t worry, that won’t happen to me. I will try and get them to use a condom’
‘But last night did he use a condom?’
‘No, he didn’t. Next time I will insist’
‘You know this is not true. Stop deceiving yourself’
‘Anyway, let’s forget about these men and talk about something else’
‘No, I won’t. I just don’t want you to end up like Habiba and the others. Why can’t you stay away from all these guys until you are older and matured?’
‘Stay away from them? That’s not possible. They give me money when I am broke. And I enjoy sex’
‘Ah well, if you live within your means and manage the little monies you make, you won’t have to rely on anyone’
‘Your life is boring, and I don’t want to be like you. You never go out. It’s either you are home or in the market. And that’s not the life I want. I am young and have to enjoy my youth. Since you want life to pass you by continue waiting till you are old.’
‘Life won’t pass me by. My mother’s words ring in my ear every day. I remember how I fought to come here because she thought I will be pregnant on the first day I landed in Accra. She has told me to stay away from men and concentrate on my work. When I am a bit older and wiser, I will choose the right man.’
‘And who is the right man? All men are the same. They like multiple women and will not be committed to you’
‘So are you saying that there are no good men in the world’
‘I don’t think good men exist. Even if they do, it’s not here.’
‘I want to be on my feet before I date any man. I also want to go out with a responsible man. Someone with a good character and a stable job’
‘But my guys have stable jobs’
‘If you say so. But are they responsible? If you get pregnant today, will they marry you? Or look after the child?’
‘That’s why I won’t get pregnant’
‘Now that you are having sex with two guys, if you get pregnant, you won’t even know who the father of the child is’
‘Stop being negative Zaharawu’
‘I am not negative. I am only telling you what can happen’
‘Look, leave me alone and go and bath’
‘If you say so. See you in the market’
‘I wonder how Zelia thinks. She hates it when I talk about what could happen. Ah well, let me focus on myself. We met here in this crowded room. She claims I am boring, and she doesn’t want to live like me. She should enjoy her fun filled life. Ha.’
Kayayei are sometimes faced with two bad choices so they must choose between the lesser evil. These decisions might not have been the one they would have exercised if they had other options1. But to Kabeer’s8 point, having agency would have contributed to their ability to reflect and analyze their options before making a choice, even if both options are not good. For instance, Kayayoo are reported to trade sex for better and safe sleeping quarters in the markets so as not to get attacked at night9.
Therefore, Kayayei of a similar age, from the same town and who work in the same market in Accra, may, in fact, experience the phenomena of their lives differently because of differing values, aspirations, or even motivations, and therefore belong in different profile groupings1.
At night, Kayayei sleep together finding safety in numbers against attacks or theft1. These groups are not without faults, some girls complain of stealing and often older girls abuse younger ones2. Kabeer8 notes that in relation to power, agency has both negative and positive sides. Positively, being the power to make choices and see them through and negatively being having the power over others’ agency sometimes through violence. Despite these hazards, there are several positive aspects and outcomes to the group cohesion3. Creating such social networks protects the Kayayoo’s individual agency, giving them a power to choose to work knowing she has the safety of the street family. It is through these closely knit social networks that a Kayayoo decides which locations to work, or live, and how to conduct their profession4.
Agency is what motivates people and it can also refer to other relations like one’s ability to negotiate, manipulate, and resist7. Having agency would have contributed to the Kayayoo’s ability to reflect and analyze their options before making a choice, even if both options are not good8. For instance, Kayayoo are reported to trade sex for better and safe sleeping quarters in the markets so as not to get attacked at night9.
Referenced: 1 5 6(Dodd, 2021); 2Huijsmans (2012); 3(Dodd, 2021); 4(Yeboah & Appiah-Yeboah, 2009); 7 8Kabeer (2001); 9(Makorni, 2017; Nyarko & Tahiru, 2018)
At the age of 13, my aunt brought me to Accra. The agreement between her and my father was that she would enrol me in school, but that never happened. Instead, I helped her sell tea, bread, and fried eggs in the Sikkens area around the Accra Central market. Every day, we were up by 4:30 am to say our prayers and prepare for the day. We had regular customers who came in daily without fail and some irregular ones. Yussif was one of our regulars. He was a scrap metal dealer who worked in the area. We became friends and would talk once a while. After about a year and three months, my aunt took me back home. I was happy to be back to the familiar – my home, friends, and family — but I missed city life…
In 2015, I returned to Accra in search of opportunities. I knew some women who worked as kayayei and had interacted with a few who were our customers. Though I knew the job was strenuous, I had no choice because Sakogu had nothing to offer me besides farming, and I wasn’t interested. My first week as a kayayoo was nerve-racking. I couldn’t speak Twi and couldn’t find customers. At the end of that week, all I wanted to do was scream. I felt so lost. I reconnected with Yussif when I returned, and we soon became a couple. Yussif made me feel like a woman. He was kind, conscientious, and dependable. I saw a friend and partner in him. I was attracted to him because he earned an honest living and was focused on his trade. You would never find him idle. We moved in together after our first child was conceived and lived in a kiosk at Madina. He bought a motorbike with earnings from his scrap metal business and is now an okada rider. Yussif has done well for himself. Our relationship(CONTINUE READING)
Born and raised in Savelugu in Ghana’s Northern Region, Samata Fuseini is a kayayoo in her mid-thirties. A cursory look at her hands gives her profession away, and her coarse skin has the earmarks of a woman in her early fifties. Dark, petite, and rarely making eye contact, Samata is usually adorned in colourful ankle-length dresses with matching veils……
“When I was about 18 years old, I realised my life was getting worse. I was jobless and couldn’t provide my basic needs. The only jobs available in Savelugu was farming and I hated it. I began farming with my parents at the age of 10, and it was back-breaking work. We used manual farming tools like weeding hoes and cutlasses because we could not afford a tractor, a planter, or a combine harvester.”….
“My first week as a kayayoo was exhausting. I roamed aimlessly in the market: I couldn’t speak any other language other than Dagbani, and the customers couldn’t speak Dagbani. I was in a fix. Twi was the language my colleagues communicated with, but I couldn’t speak a word of it. I couldn’t negotiate and was not familiar with the layout of the market. In my first month, I often thought of going back to Savelugu and felt I had bitten more than I could chew. I didn’t make any money that month, but my brother Ishawu saved the situation by giving me money weekly. Some kayayei who my brother knew also graciously gave me food. I lived in a cramped wooden kiosk with ten other women at Accra Central. After a month, there was a glimmer of hope. I established relationships with a handful of customers, but I still had two challenges to overcome: learning(CONTINUE READING)
“I was born in Janga to Mma Adamu and Mr Yaamusa who are both farmers. Kande Naba, as we call my father, is one of the elders of Janga. He is a charming, tall, and handsome man who has a way with words. Like a saltwater crocodile, he will deal with you if he’s stroked on the wrong side. My mother is levelheaded, empathic, and kind. I have my father’s good looks and my mother’s character. My mother is my father’s second wife, and I am the seventh of his nine children….
I came to Accra when I was about 15 years old. Sabde had left Janga to work as a kayayoo in Accra by that time. I wanted to work and couldn’t find any in Janga, so my parents agreed that I could join Sabde. My mother even paid my bus fare. Accra felt strange: it was busy with too many people. The buildings, especially the high-rises, were like nothing I had seen before. Being with Sabde gave me a better life than some of my peers had. She guided and fed me until I found my bearings. On my first day at Madina Market, I was surprised to see children younger than me working as kayayei. Some were actually walking about alone, and girls as young as 13 years old were pregnant. I found it strange (CONTINUE READING)
