Abstract
The mobility/immobility research frontier in migration scholarship has gained ascendancy since the beginning of this century with some studies highlighting the need for broader global trends in cross-border mobility/immobility research. This article on Nigerian immigrants as ‘liminars’in Ghana, West Africa, is an attempt to join the global cross-border mobility/immobility discourse on mobile people. It is anchored in the qualitative research tradition with the empirical data generated through in-depth interviews, observations and market conversations with 41 Nigerian immigrant entrepreneurs in Accra (the capital of Ghana), Kumasi (the second largest city after Accra) and Ashaiman (a sprawling sub-urban settlement). In a three-theme analysis approach, the paper shows three intersections in mobilities, immobilities and borderland accounts, namely mobility/borderland, trapped/living in a borderland space, and immobility in temporal-spatial borderland, and places the immigrants into a liminar category. This article is a contribution to understanding the mobility/immobility research frontier from the perspective of the global south and its impact on global southern ‘citizens’.
Introduction: setting the context
This article is concerned with the conceptualization of Nigerian immigrants in Ghana as ‘liminars’ 1 and draws on three concepts in migration scholarship, namely mobility, immobility and borderlands. The first two concepts, mobility and immobility, are dualistic and in perpetual opposition to each other, and conceptually draw directly from ‘being mobile and immobile’ respectively. Together, they constitute an important research frontier in migration scholarship that has gained ascendancy since the beginning of this century (Carling, 2002; Haugen, 2012; Jónsson, 2008; Van der Velde and Van Naerssen, 2011). This was necessitated, first by the fact that migration research was often concerned with contrasting migration (migrants) with non-migration (non-migrants) (Carling, 2002; Jónsson, 2008). As such, as argued by Jónsson (2008: 10), ‘the possibility of wanting to migrate but not being able to do so was often lost’, and thus paved the way for more focused attention on immobility in mobility/immobility research. The third concept in this paper – borderland – is more about ‘interstitial zones of hybridization’ (Dudziak and Volpp, 2005 p. 595) with both mobility and immobility features, or to resurrect Anzaldúa’s (1987: 19) classic description, a place of ‘half and half’ ‘neither one nor the other but a strange doubling’ – a ‘two in one body’. These three concepts are interrelated to some extent such that it is possible to glean understanding of both mobility and immobility from borderland in the ‘creation’ of Nigerian immigrants as liminars.
Although much has been written about each of the three concepts in broader migration scholarship, an attempt to bring them together empirically is almost non-existent. This article draws on migration practices in West Africa, specifically from Nigeria to Ghana, and seeks to contribute to understanding these concepts from both conceptual and empirical points of view. It argues that Nigerian immigrants in Ghana are mobile but also immobile and are trapped, or live in, (temporal) borderland space that reflects liminal living.
Though there is a long history of Nigerian presence in Ghana (Antwi Bosiakoh, 2009; Arhin, 1979; Eades, 1994; Peil, 1974), there is no uniformity on the existing statistics, just like their counterparts around the world. Nonetheless, it suffices to note that the Nigerian immigrants in this study are an important part of the growing Nigerian presence in Ghana (Antwi Bosiakoh, 2017a,b; Akinyoade, 2015) and a key part of the estimated 5.2 million Nigerians living in other countries around the world (Orozco and Mills, 2007). According to some sources (see for example Olatuyi et al., 2013) as many as 5% of all Nigerians in the diaspora live in Ghana, making Ghana the third top destination for Nigerian migrants in the global south following Sudan and Cameroon, and the fifth destination in the world including the US and UK (Antwi Bosiakoh, 2017b; Olatuyi et al., 2013). The migration of these Nigerians to Ghana is predicated on the sub-regional economic governance structure; that is, the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), with protocols and regulations seeking to engineer free movement of people and goods. These protocols and regulations implicate migratory movements within the West African sub-region. As such, almost all the Nigerian migrants in this study explained their migration to Ghana by the fact that Ghana and Nigeria are members of ECOWAS, and they are therefore entitled as ‘citizens’ to visa-free entry to any ECOWAS member state including Ghana. Here is a case of ECOWAS as a sub-regional economic institution occasioning migration, or from a more theoretical point of view, the case of mixed embeddedness of sub-regional institution/protocol in migratory projects/pursuits of immigrants.
Conceptualizing borderland: understanding mobility, immobility and liminality
The study of borderlands emerged from the fundamental existence of a border – a line or boundary dividing a ‘space’ into two parts (Havlíček, 2007). It originated from the field of geography, but modern discourse in politics places its growth in significance to the rise of ideas of nation states, particularly in Europe (Orozco-Mendoza, 2008; Stoddard et al., 1983). While its usage is often confused with boundary, and the two are frequently used interchangeably, they are not the same. Van Wijhe (2010) notes that ‘boundary’ from ‘bound’ is broader with inward orientation but ‘border’, with its quintessential ‘line of territory’, creates an inside and outside, interior and exterior shades of demarcation (see also Paasi, 2011). In politics, Anderson (2013) reminds us about how borders and boundaries helped organize the Roman Empire into a hierarchical form of settlements, cities, provinces and regions. Borders thus helped delimit territories and the possessions therein, and leaders deployed them to picture their possessions and influences (Brunet-Jailly, 2005). From geography and politics, the notion of border has percolated into other social science disciplines, and, increasingly, the study of borderland communities as unique kinds of communities with localized cultures – including ethnicity, language, and other cultural variables – has gained ascendancy (Beswick, 2007; Madsen, 2014; Oates-Indruchová and Blaive, 2014). Toward the later years of the twentieth century, political geographers floated the idea that borders may be institutions; albeit, as institutions they may be fraught with disputed functions (Newman and Paasi, 1998; Paasi, 1999).
Over the course of the last three decades, there has been increased interest in border as a theory (Anzaldúa, 1987; 1999; Newman, 2006a,b) with publications in the form of conference proceedings and edited books. The Journal of Borderland Studies was established in 1986, while other journals continue to devote pages to issues that relate to borders and bordering (Diener and Hagen, 2009; Liikanen, 2010; Newman, 2006a,b; Parker and Vaughan-Williams, 2009; Popescu, 2011). In May 2006, the European Journal of Social Theory was devoted to theorizing borders, with Newman (2006b), arguing that the growth in border studies stands in sharp contrast to the borderless ‘chorus’ in the globalization discourse. Also, Rumford (2006) expounded the need to extricate ‘border theorizing’, which draws attention to the shifting role of political borders, and the changing relations between borders and society. Concerning the latter approach, Rumford (2006: 155) argued that theorizing borders also concerns the ‘attempt to understand the nature of the social . . . and social theorists now place borders more centrally in the study of society’. After all, as he eloquently illustrated, theorizing ‘mobilities and networks is, at the same time, to theorize borders’. In celebrating this line of thought, scholarship on networks and mobilities has developed, thanks to Castells (2004) who oriented us on how ‘space of places’ is now under siege from ‘space of flows’.
There is also a sociological contribution to theorizing borders as a socially constructed and re-constructed abstract notion (Lindemann, 2005) that possesses the power to shape the life practices of inclusion and exclusion within the boundaries of the social world (Luckmann, 1970). Here, the sociological configuration of social ties along the lines of dyad and triad, and the interactions they engender among group constituents (Simmel, 1950), and the ways in which these interactions are embedded with notions of borders and bordering on identities, come into sharp focus. Moreover, when sociologists talk about social class stratification, the ideas of border and bordering underlie these thoughts as they seek to create spaces/zones (Rączaszek, 2011) and borderlands.
Thus, border has moved beyond the physical territorial lines of demarcation and separation to incorporate the socially constructed abstract spaces of conceptions, where, increasingly, the concepts ‘closed’ and ‘open’ have emerged to illustrate different degrees of ‘entry into’ and sometimes ‘exit from’ the borderland space. For example in the preface to Borderlands La Frontera, Anzaldúa (1987) conceptualizes borderland as the place where ‘two or more cultures edge each other, where people of different races occupy the same territory, where under, lower, middle and upper classes touch, where the spaces between two individuals shrink with intimacy’. This conceptualization helps to subvert and mitigate duality (for example in mobility and immobility), what Kellner (1989) calls totalizing, and represents ‘the coming together of opposite qualities within’ (Anzaldúa, 1987: 19), the symbol of the fusion of opposites (Anzaldúa, 1987: 47), ‘a boundless, floating state of limbo’ (Anzaldúa, 1987: 72), or simply, the new mestiza. In the Anzaldúan conception of borderland is a plural personality that transcends duality – a crossfire between camps and a battleground.
Borderlands thus maps a sense of mestiza – a plurality of self or, as Anzaldúa (2000: 176) explains in Interviews/Entrevistas, ‘the dimensions of the experience of living in between overlapping and layered spaces of different cultures and social and geographic locations, of events and realities’. To be in a borderland, to be mestiza, or to use Anzaldúa’s other term ‘nepantla’, is to be a ‘supreme border crosser’ (Anzaldúa, 2004: 20), ‘a hybridity, a mixture’ or a ‘liminal state in-between worlds, in-between realities’ (Anzaldúa, 2000: 268). It is a consciousness and awareness of multiple subjectivities that denotes ‘space’ Rey (2001: 197) or ‘condensation points’ (Pavlakovich-Kochi et al., 2004).
What Anzaldúa (2004) calls liminal state animates Van Gennep’s (1960 [1909]) and Turner’s (1967, 1987) notions of ‘liminality’. Van Gennep’s liminality concept draws on the rite of passage process in which the ritual subject (i.e., the individual undergoing the rite) transits from one identity to another by traversing three distinct stages – separation, liminality and aggregation. Separation denotes the symbolic detachment of the ritual subject from the rest of society; liminality (margin) signifies an ambiguous moment in which the ritual subject has few or none of the attributes of the past or the coming state; and finally, the aggregation stage which represents consummation of the passage and the ritual subject re-joins society with full rights and obligations.
Following Van Gennep (1960 [1909]), Turner (1967, 1987) conceptualized liminality as inter-structural betwixt and between personae, where individuals no longer fit the prior classification and have no new classification yet generated for their situation. Liminality in this sense then becomes a transitory and transformative (empowering) stage in seclusion (Turner, 1987: 8), and the liminar is endowed with the freedom to reflect, ‘to juggle with the factors of existence’ and ‘promiscuously intermingle and juxtapose categories of event, experience and knowledge with pedagogic intention’ (Turner, 1967: 105–106). In migration studies, specifically in the migratory process, the meaning of liminality incorporates temporal-spatial, in between origin and destination (that is, out of the origin but not yet in the destination), the movement process, among others. It is characterized by ambiguity and uncertainty, evoking multiple meanings and in Turnerian terms, the actors can be conceptualized as transitional beings, ‘neither one thing nor another; or maybe both; or neither here nor there; or maybe nowhere . . . and are at the very least “betwixt and between” all the recognized fixed points in space-time of structural classification’ (Turner, 1967: 96).
In this paper, I draw on the notions of borderland and liminality to examine both mobility and immobility experiences in the migratory lives of sampled Nigerians in Ghana. Borderland and liminality help unify different parts of opposing categories like mobility and immobility, offering fundamental lenses for understanding social realities at the intersection arena – the place of contacts, cooperation and conflict (Havlíček, 2007; Morehouse, 2004) or the ‘contested terrain of exclusion and inclusion’ (Matlon, 2015: 148).
Methods
This paper is drawn from a larger research project on the mixed embeddedness of Nigerian immigrants’ informal entrepreneurship in Ghana. The bigger research project sought to qualitatively investigate the embeddedness dimension of Nigerian immigrant entrepreneurs in Ghana, in the sub-regional economic community structure ECOWAS, and in the transnational context both within West African states and others. The fieldwork lasted 7-months in 2015, and was intensive and multi-sited (Antwi Bosiakoh, 2017b), employing a range of qualitative data gathering strategies including in-depth interviews, observations and market conversations with 41 Nigerian entrepreneurs about their entrepreneurial activities in the country. The choice of a qualitative approach in this article is a reflection of the larger project’s methodological concern to make participants become narrators of their lived experiences. Participants were identified in a multi-stage sampling process involving purposive selection based on personal contact cases from earlier study (stage 1), snowballing for further/expanded cases, and referrals from some leaders of the Nigerian immigrant community in Ghana. This process helped to reduce refusal rates and ensured variations in the cases and responses. A great deal of effort was made to investigate the entrepreneurs’ migratory narratives as understanding these was essential for understanding their entrepreneurial activities. The interviews, all lasting approximately one hour, were face-to-face in the interviewees’ preferred languages (Twi and English) at their business premises or other mutually agreed place including home, church and school premises and a restaurant. The analysis in this article focuses on the entrepreneurs’ migratory narratives. The fieldwork sites were Accra – the capital of Ghana, Kumasi – the second largest city after Accra, and Ashaiman, a large sprawling, suburban settlement 2 with strong attraction for some Nigerian immigrants.
Following Marcu’s (2016: 358) call for more studies on the discourse of mobile people to highlight broader global trends in cross-border mobility, this article adopts a three-theme analysis approach to examine the intersections of mobilities, immobilities and borderland narratives in West Africa and further places the actors – Nigerian immigrants in Ghana – into a liminar category. These themes were generated by coding participants’ narratives on their migratory experiences which first led to two analytical domains: 1) mobility and 2) borderland. Further coding revealed immobility related to the initial code ‘mobility’, which became mobility/immobility or (im)mobility. Further analysis of (im)mobility and borderland provided useful insight on the notion of liminar. These coding themes/analytical constructs provide the framework for organising and reporting the research findings.
For ethical purposes, all the procedures for this research met the requirements set out in the Australian National Statement on Ethical Conduct in Human Research (2007, updated March 2014) (the National Statement) and was approved by Macquarie University’s Human Research Ethics Committee (Human Sciences and Humanities) (Reference No. 5201400968) - at its meeting on 28 November 2014. Further, all the names of respondents in this article are pseudonyms to ensure anonymity. Following from here is a conceptualization of borderland for understanding mobility, immobility and liminality.
The migratory processes and experiences of Nigerian immigrants in Ghana
Mobility/borderland narratives
Otunla is a 25-year-old Nigerian who first came to Ghana in 2008 after secondary school in Nigeria. He, like many of his countrymen and women in this article, ‘came to do business’ and currently operates a phone accessories business at PZ Area between Adum and Kejetia in Kumasi in a glass display cabinet. When asked about the first time he came to Ghana, he stated that it was an easy and difficult road journey. Otunla explained that he and a few of the people he travelled with at the time possessed all the necessary documents to travel to Ghana, but the vast majority did not, and so they were made to pay monies, as a group, to officials who were detailed to control the Nigeria/Benin and Benin/Togo borders. When they came to cross the Aflao border into Ghana from Togo, things became difficult. Officials identified the travelling group members as non-Ghanaians who needed to possess valid travel documents before obtaining entry. Within a short time, their luggage was seized and, as Otunla observed, they contributed monies to bribe the officials just as they had done at previous borders. No account was taken of the fact that he and some of the others possessed valid travel documents. The money they collected was rejected for not being enough. This was increased and rejected a second time. Eventually, they were allowed entry to Ghana but not until they contributed a third time to the ‘fee’.
Like Otunla’s migration experience, Osuofia, 51, who has lived in Ghana for 22 years and travels to Nigeria quite frequently, speaks of force, extortion and sometimes physical abuse by border officials at the Nigeria/Benin, Benin/Togo and Togo/Ghana borders. These border officials not only ‘search travellers with impunity’ but also ‘force them to comply to their demands for bribes’. As he notes:
The officials at the borders collect a lot of money from us. They extort . . . by force and if you don’t comply, or if you don’t have, sometimes they beat you up . . .’ They search with impunity and with force to collect your money. Yes, we are forced to pay money and this still happens now.
As Osuofia notes, this practice of extortion continues now, sometimes regardless of whether the traveller possesses valid travel documents or not. For many Nigerian entrepreneurial migrants, their activities (mainly trading in nature), involve frequent travel across the borders to and from Nigeria, a situation that has made it imperative for them to acquire valid travel documents. However, acquiring valid travel documents (as the cases of Otunla and Osuofia show), has not stopped the habitual extortion at the borders, particularly to Benin and Ghana. Osuofia narrates that officials at the Seme border to Benin, for example, ‘have made it as part of the task to man the borders to extort money from us’.
These accounts typify and summarize a vast body of narrative experiences shared by Nigerian immigrants in this study, and parallel the documented cases of Ghanaians who migrated to Nigeria in the early 1980s (Anarfi, 1982) where an institutionalized system, involving drivers of long distance passenger vehicles, migrants themselves and immigration officials along the Ghana-Nigeria migration route, facilitated the process. Drivers charge migrant passengers without travel documents extra fares to speak to immigration officials at border check points on their behalf. There are also ‘resident’ border-crossing agents, often known by officials at different borders, who negotiate to take migrants across borders. From this, we see not only immigration officials and drivers but also border guards benefiting from the existing institutionalized corrupt system that facilitates cross-border movement within the sub-region. This applies to both legal and illegal cross-border movement (see Osuofia’s accounts above).
These immigrants therefore compromise to meet demands and coercion to pay bribes at various borders in their migration to Ghana, a situation which has created pathways for immigrants who, as citizens of ECOWAS with visa-free entry entitlement to member states including Ghana 3 not only abetted and continue to abet but also participate(d) in ‘bribe-giving rituals’ intended to open international borders within the ECOWAS community. As citizens of ECOWAS with valid travel documents, they were entitled to free entry to Ghana and had no need to ‘grease palms’. They were legal ‘travellers’ within the community. However, as the accounts of Nigerian immigrants in Ghana show, many of them, including Otunla and Osuofia, paid and continue to pay bribes, and this places them into boundary subversion positions (Kellner, 1989) – from legal community citizens to illegal and undocumented immigrants. As a result, these immigrants could be conceived simultaneously as lawful and unlawful – a kind of contested terrain (Matlon, 2015) or ‘in-between-ness’ (He and Phillion, 2001). As nationals of Nigeria, they are full citizens of ECOWAS, but by participating in the bribe-giving ‘sacrament’, they relegate themselves, or are perhaps forced by corrupt border control regimes (similar to what Chee (2017) terms ‘mobilities turning shaky’ in relation to the complexities of Mainland Chinese pregnant women traveling to Hong Kong to give birth), to recline into peripheral and sort of second-class positions. They thus became half here (legal citizens) and half there (illegal non-citizens), a two-in-one body, or simply a dual personality (Anzaldúa, 1987) of both legal citizens and illegal non-citizens – a totalizing mestiza. For these Nigerians, the existing ‘borders’ and mobility governance regime in and between Nigeria and Ghana represent an ‘enemy’ that frustrates, disables and places them in ambivalent position.
Trapped/living in a borderland space
Some narratives of Nigerian immigrants in Ghana further embody an element of immobility in a space of borderland. One of these immigrants is Onyeama, 43, from the South Eastern Anambra state in Nigeria. Onyeama’s migration to Ghana was driven by two interrelated motives. The first, like Otunla and Osuofia – and indeed like many others interviewed for this article – was to do business in Ghana. As will be shown later in this section, Onyeama has tried his hand at many business activities in Ghana but currently deals in scrap metals (catalytic converters) at Fadama in Accra. Onyeama’s second reason for coming to Ghana was to use ‘Ghana as stepping stone’ 4 to travel to a Western country. For him, therefore, migrating to Ghana was part of a broader, long-term Western-oriented migration goal. He envisioned (other respondents disclosed similarly), that travelling to Western countries from Ghana, particularly with Ghanaian travel documents, was easier than to do so from Nigeria with Nigerian travel documents. While in Ghana, his first aim took shape, paving the way for his second, long-term goal of Western migration to became his primary goal. A friend had told him about a travelling opportunity to the US which caught his interest. As Onyeama noted, he ‘rounded up’ his goods and sold them all at prices that enabled him to recoup his invested capital. He also travelled to Nigeria to do the same (Onyeama was a transnational trading entrepreneur and owned a shop in Lagos, Nigeria, that stockpiled Ghanaian goods) and gave up the rented apartment he uses while in Lagos. All the proceeds he generated were directed to his ‘intended’ travel to America. But in the end, Onyeama found out he had put all his capital into a ‘scam deal’.
He became devastated for months, and lived on the generosity of friends. But Onyeama found consolation in his entrepreneurial abilities. He started all over again, first by getting into the sale of foreign gospel music and Nigerian movie CDs which ended him up in litigation with other business people. He was found guilty in a litigation by a court and had to pay a fine of USD 7000 or serve a term of imprisonment. He preferred paying the fine which he did in instalments. Later, Onyeama tried his hand at different business activities without success, at least not like the success he had earlier and currently runs a scrap metal business at Fadama. But Onyeama has not abandoned his dream of migrating to the Western world. Part of what he has done in preparation for this dream is that he has now acquired a Ghanaian passport through ‘fishy’ means to facilitate the process.
Onyeama’s story first resonates immigrant entrepreneurial resilience (though of ‘peripheral status’) in the service of a long term ‘core migration project’. His migration to Ghana and his subsequent entrepreneurial pursuits, as ‘a periphery’, feeds the forward-looking ‘core’ goal (Baldwin, 2001). This is reflected in how he rounded up his businesses both in Ghana and Nigeria to finance the opportunity to travel to the US. And though unsuccessful, he continues to strongly nurse this migration aspiration.
In Onyeama’s continuous aspiration to migrate to the West, he epitomizes Anzaldúa’s (1987, 1999) mestiza. My interactions with him revealed not just a restless man, but also a man on purpose to achieve his dream. He was entangled, perhaps better to use the concept ‘trapped’ (Chee, 2017) in a borderland Ghana where both elements of harmony and tension co-existed (Acosta, 2008; Havlíček, 2007; Morehouse, 2004). His life in Ghana characterizes a shifted and repositioned identity (Acosta, 2008) or a dual identity (Anzaldúa (1987, 1999), first as Nigerian (by birth and citizenship), and second as a Ghanaian (at least in terms of holding a Ghanaian passport acquired through underhand means). He contends with projecting himself as Nigerian by origin and as a Ghanaian in the pursuit of his dream in the hope that one day, he will live in a Western country. Like Onyeama, some entrepreneurs also carry themselves in a way that places them in dual identities. Others are in the process of acquiring Ghanaian passports to place them in such positions to ‘ease’ the process of their intended migration to developed countries. Otunla did not have a Ghanaian passport at the time of interview but hoped to acquire one (by underhand means). His entrepreneurial activities, just like Onyeama’s, are meant to raise money to finance his ‘travel to Europe’. He describes his strategy which is like Onyeama’s, as follows:
If God blesses me in my business and I make money, I will not like to stay in Ghana anymore. I just want to do Ghana passport to travel to Europe.
Already, Otunla is in a borderland; Ghana is a borderland for him and it is this borderland context that he holds on to. His story bears parallels with that of Odichi who proclaimed: ‘I don’t have any intention of going back to Nigeria. My intention is to travel outside Ghana to other countries.’ Ghana is a borderland for both Otunla and Odichi. In addition, if successful in his plans to acquire a Ghanaian passport, Otunla would acquire self-duality (Anzaldúa, 1999) – a mestiza identity just like that of Onyeama, and just like that of other Nigerians in Ghana. For these immigrants, Ghana is thus a borderland space between Nigeria, where they come from, and the destinations where they desire to finally settle. Akinyoade (2015) aptly describes this situation as ‘Nigerians in transit’ and Ghana has become a transit, liminal community or borderland context.
However, it is not just Ghana that has become a borderland. For many of the entrepreneurs, their lives also demonstrate borderland characteristics made possible by the borderland context they inhabit, as they negotiate creative ways of merging both worlds – ‘having entry into both worlds’ (Anzaldúa, 2007: 41) – in a way that fleshes out the contradictions embedded in a borderland context. For these immigrants, therefore, Anzaldúa’s mestiza is empowering, and offers them the ability to perform their dual identities in borderland Ghana – that is, to express agency and creative forces (Acosta, 2008; Mata-Codesal, 2007). They are Nigerians when they are with their Nigerian countrymen in Ghana, when they travel to Nigeria or when they are in interactions with their families and friends back home. This Nigerian identity is suppressed and Ghanaian identity evoked when they are engaged in efforts that relate to their Western migration (with embassies and officialdom within the migration institutional structure). These situationally and circumstantially evoked and suppressed identities are made possible by the borderland context in which they find themselves, and feed into the step-wise migration or stepping stone process to their ‘intended final physical and or socio-economic destination’ (Akinyoade, 2015: 214). It also positions them in overlapping realities (Anzaldúa, 2000) and as ‘supreme border crossers’ (Anzaldúa, 2004: 20).
Immobility in temporal-spatial borderland
A further evocative theme in the narratives of Nigerian immigrants in Ghana is the idea of involuntary ‘immobility in a temporal-spatial borderland’. This theme is best educed in the account of Adamma, a 50-year-old mother of 6 who operates a sachet water business at Zongo Junction in Madina, Accra. Adamma lived briefly in the UK 5 and managed to secure casual work in the aged care sector. When she came to Ghana in 2011, she was engaged in a second-hand goods business which she was running with a Ghanaian friend. But while in Ghana, her friend/business partner, whom she now describes as a ‘con artist’, refused to meet up with her, and on top of that she lost all her travel documents in the hotel where she lodged. Complaints to the police did not help matters and eventually, Adamma said she could not return to the UK (without papers) nor to Nigeria (also because she does not have travel documents, but more importantly because of ridicule).
Adamma decided to go underground in what had gradually become a borderland Ghana with the help of some Nigerians whom she met together with Ghanaian friends she made. She later joined a Nigerian church, receiving help (rented room and a little money) from the pastor after discussing her situation with the church. Soon after, the wife of Adamma’s landlord suggested she find something to do with her life, imploring Adamma to go into the sale of mobile phone credit cards. She helped Adamma set up a table-top credit card business with the money from the church, but Adamma explained’ ‘the profit was not good enough’ and so she decided on her own to ‘shift to the sale of sachet water’. Adamma was interviewed in January 2015 and this was followed with several informal conversations later. In one of these conversations, she disclosed she was at an advanced stage in acquiring a Ghanaian passport through some Nigerian friends. She hoped this would enable her to travel to UK once again, this time as a different person – as a Ghanaian. But until that time, even though she wants to travel, she is unable to do so. She is no longer concerned about her missing Nigerian passport, stating: ‘I do not want to go back to Nigeria now. If I want one, I can get it to travel back, but this is not the time for that.’
Adamma’s migration trajectories display different layers of dubious dealings. Her travel to the UK, the work she did in the UK, and her ability to travel out of the UK were all etched on mendacities. This is what she is maintaining in Ghana to acquire her Ghanaian passport. Like Onyeama and Otunla (and some others), this is the pathway by which she hopes to travel to Europe – the use of spurious processes. The story of Adamma also reveals she is trapped in borderland Ghana. When she came to Ghana in 2011, she was on a short business visit. But this was extended by days and weeks and months. In 2015, she had been in Ghana for four years – something she neither anticipated nor planned for. She told me she was unable to travel, stuck and ‘frozen’ in her travel journey. Ghana has thus become a borderland for her, but more appropriately, particularly in her imagination, a temporal-spatial borderland context between Nigeria where she comes from and the UK where she plans to return. In this sense, her situation embodies an interplay of aspiration and reality. She planned on staying in Ghana temporarily; she still holds on to the temporariness of her stay in Ghana, and temporariness has become a central part of the reasons she is acquiring a Ghanaian passport (Barenboim, 2016; Coutin, 2003; Dudziak and Volpp, 2005; Villegas, 2014). But Ghana has also become a borderland space for her – a temporal-spatial borderland, or a transit place (Akinyoade, 2015) – and this situation informs her entrepreneurship in the country.
Ghana as a temporal-spatial borderland is full of tension for Adamma. She does not like staying in Ghana but she is compelled to do so. She is Anzaldúa’s (1999) mestiza and her identity shifted, repositioned (Acosta, 2008) and shrouded. But beyond the mestiza status, her situation also demonstrates involuntary immobility (Carling, 2002), similar to what Haugen (2012: 67) calls ‘inequalities in mobility’ among some Nigerians in China. She aspires to migrate to the UK again but – because of losing her travel documents – she is unable to do so. Carling’s (2002) concept of involuntary immobility seeks to capture this aspiration to migrate but without the ability to do so – in other words, the desire to migrate but the inability to do so. In Chee’s (2017: 211) terms, both mobility and immobility are paradoxically out of Adamma’s control. She is an unwilling immigrant, trapped in Ghana by circumstances and her immobility is involuntary (Carling, 2002; Haugen, 2012; Jónsson, 2008). Her ‘migration’ to Ghana has disempowered her mobility and she represents ‘a synthesis of duality’ in both mobility and immobility – ‘a third perspective’ or a symbol of ‘mobility and immobility’ (Anzaldúa, 1987: 46–47) in borderland Ghana.
For Adamma, being involuntarily immobile has made her become restless in Ghana and she ‘wants to make money fast’ to travel out of the country. This restlessness and the desire to make money fast converge to explain the reasons she got into business. In 2012, she was offered a job in a small Nigerian church in Accra but declined, citing low salary as a justification. She did not want to work for a ‘low salary’. She wanted to work for herself in the informal space in the Madina market to make ‘fast money’. Also, the desire to make fast money lies beneath her decision to change from the mobile phone credit business to the sachet water vending business. Indeed, her entrepreneurial activities in Ghana were, and continue to be, in the service of this ‘fast money’ mentality, and just like those of Onyeama, and Otunla, are directed at financing her intended migration away from borderland Ghana. The mobile phone credit card business which she ran and the sachet water vending business she currently runs in Ghana are together a springboard to her migration goal. Her entrepreneurial activities are secondary, peripheral to the primary core goal (Baldwin, 2001) which is to migrate back to the UK, and borderland Ghana is the context for the pursuit.
Nigerian immigrants as liminars in Ghana
In the context of this article, some aspects of the empirical realities of Nigerian immigrants in Ghana lend themselves to liminality. For these immigrants, the various facets of their migration and immobility experiences and practices correlate with the conceptualization of liminality. To systematize the discussion, I first place liminality within the ‘movement process’ of Nigerians in Ghana, i.e. to conceive the immigrants as ‘moving’ such that their present location in Ghana is seen as in between the migration origin country and their intended destination – a borderland. As noted earlier, some Nigerian immigrants like Onyeama, Otunla, Odichi, and Adamma, etc., nurse dreams of travelling to more developed countries in North America, Europe and elsewhere. For these immigrants, their migration to Ghana and their stay in Ghana, part of the step-wise process of migration, feed into the moving process. They are on the move, out of their origin country of Nigeria but not yet in their intended destination. Van Gennep’s (1960 [1909]) notions of separation, liminality and aggregation fittingly apply to their situations. By leaving Nigeria, they have separated. However, they have not yet achieved aggregation, the actualization of the long-term migration dream of living in a developed country. Being in Ghana in this case is to be in a liminal context – a ‘midpoint of transition in a status-sequence between two positions’ (Turner, 1975: 237).
This midpoint position is similar to being in a borderland – a liminal zone. The immigrants are liminal residents, what Walker describes as a ‘liminal group’ (2008, p. 53). As liminal immigrants, narratives on their stay in Ghana are characterized by a strong sense of ephemerality and temporariness (Barenboim, 2016; Coutin, 2003; Dudziak and Volpp, 2005; Rando, 2007; Villegas, 2014) with explanations grounded in the long-term goal of travelling to a Western country. This is reflected in how their entrepreneurial efforts are directed to service the temporary nature of their stay in Ghana; that is, to finance and facilitate their intended journeys out of Ghana. Although temporariness characterizes these liminal immigrants, an element of permanency is also embodied in their experiences. For example, Adamma’s short visit in Ghana turned into months and years. She and Odichi were in their fourth year in Ghana and Otunla and Onyeama in their seventh and eighteenth year in Ghana respectively. A clear majority of the immigrants (63.4%; n = 26) had, at the time of fieldwork, stayed in Ghana for more than 5 years, 44% (n = 18) for more than 10 years and the remaining 19.5% (n = 8) for 6 to 10 years inclusive. Therefore, for these immigrants, their liminal stay in Ghana is characterized not just by evanescence but also permanence.
Additionally, the meaning of liminality in the lives of the immigrants reveals empowerment (Acosta, 2008; Khoshneviss, 2017; Mata-Codesal, 2007), similar to Anzaldúa’s (1999, 2007) mestiza, which allows some immigrants to appropriate and be in both worlds, that is Nigeria and Ghana at the same time. This is exemplified by their acquisition of Ghanaian passports even though they continue to be Nigerians. By this, the immigrants who are also ‘Ghanaians’, traverse the structures of nationality, appropriating the sense of belonging, benefits and support from both worlds. They appear very adroit in navigating the existing transnational space. For example, an Igbo man living in Kumasi and married to a Ghanaian Moslem girl may have his nuclear family in Ghana and the extended family in Nigeria. He would send his children back to visit ‘their hometown’ and he himself would move frequently between Ghana and Nigeria, because he has business in Kumasi and Lagos. And while in Ghana, he would love to eat Fufu 6 but in Nigeria, he would be drawn to Eba 7 , and would have a Ghanaian day-born name for everyday conversation and a full Ghanaian name on his Ghanaian passport, besides his actual Nigerian name on his Nigerian passport.
A key part of the theme of empowerment potential in liminality relates to the entrepreneurial activities pursued by the immigrants. These activities are conceived as part of the liminal practices – a liminal entrepreneurship. First, they are pursued in the liminal zone or in borderland Ghana, that is in the zone between Nigeria (separation stage) and the intended western migration destination (aggregation stage). Second, as noted earlier, these entrepreneurial actions are part of the process and effort of transiting to the aggregation stage of their migration journeys, and here we find the transformative potential in liminality through liminal entrepreneurship. This liminal entrepreneurship, pursued with agency and instrumentalism (Brettell and Alstatt, 2007; McMullen et al., 2016), thus nourishes their ‘core’ migration goal. Liminality is thus of theoretical essence in their long-term migration goal and in several significant practices of the immigrants, including their entrepreneurial pursuits in Ghana.
But being liminars or performing as liminars is not an end in itself. It is a part of the process of moving into the aggregation zone (Van Gennep, 1960) which denotes the eventual migration to North America, Europe or elsewhere deemed more developed than Ghana. This, however, is not without the potential division in loyalty because of the possible multiple belongings. But, as shown by Vasta (2013), this process does not necessarily undermine cohesive belonging. They do not disengage from loyalty and attachments with Nigeria; they progressively pursue attachment and ‘loyalty’ with Ghana. These loyalty and attachment engagements with Nigeria and Ghana nourish their future migration aspirations. Here is a case of multiple engagements and belongings, (with)out senses of (un)ambiguity. They are a misnomer, because while appearing to ‘belong’ in Ghana, their identity as Nigerian is never shrugged off. Perhaps a better way to capture this situation is to conceive of them as partially belonging and engaging because, as argued by Walker (2008: 54), ‘one cannot fully belong to more than one culture’, as in the ‘process of acculturation in one culture, one is simultaneously being dis-acculturated from another’, or perhaps in the processes of dis-acculturation and acculturation one is also involved in the creation of an entirely new cultural identity imbued with features of (dis)accultured societies. In this way, the meaning of Bourdieu’s (1977: 95) habitus as an ‘acquired system of generative schemes objectively adjusted to the particular conditions in which it is constituted’ aptly fits the immigrants’ shifting positions of belonging and attachment.
Conclusion
This article on the mobility, immobility and borderland narratives of Nigerian immigrants in Ghana sheds important light on the actuality of migratory movements and migration politics within the West African sub-region, where the existing supra-national ECOWAS (infra)structure seeks to foster economic integration through free movement of goods and people. In reality, however, this is fraught with challenges leading to institutionalized border corruption. More broadly, the article contributes to mobility/immobility research in the global south - in Ghana – by global southern citizens, Nigerians. For these immigrants, their migration places them in precarious positions and their experience of precariousness has characteristics of borderland physiognomies that reflect legal-illegal boundary subversion personae and Ghana becomes a borderland, sometimes temporal-spatial borderland with involuntary immobility potential for some of them. These borderland experiences also implicate the entrepreneurial pursuits of the immigrants. Together, understanding the immigrants’ mobility, immobility and borderland living experiences and practices help to place them into a liminar, a categorization which proffers an important pathway for understanding migratory configuration in West Africa. Like structures of socio-cultural, historical, economic, politico-institutional and policy forces which shape behaviours and actions of migration actors and entrepreneurial formation processes, conceptualizing Nigerian immigrants as liminars in borderland Ghana helps to understand how their mobility, immobility and borderland impulses exude a transformative, empowering and agency-oriented instrumentalism; for example, through their liminal entrepreneurship.
Footnotes
Funding
The author disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This work was supported by Macquarie University, Sydney, Australia, through its International Macquarie Research Excellence Scholarship (iMQRES) grant number 2014037.
