The Volta River In Ghana, downstream from the dam.
Iain Jackson, CC BY-NC-SA
The Volta River project in Ghana was a symbolic embodiment of
progress, modernisation, and development. It offered the opportunity for
newly independent Ghana to develop a complex and integrated industrial
base using local resources and materials. While the initial concept was
discussed as early as 1924, it was only in the 1950s that the
feasibility report was written and work commenced.
The idea was to harness power generated from a hydroelectric dam to
smelt bauxite into aluminium and to export it from the newly built
port-town of Tema. For Kwame Nkrumah, Ghana’s first post independence
leader, it was a perfect blend of nationalist development and
international trade. It was a means of throwing off the shame of an
imperial past with an ambitious and prestigious infrastructure project.
The development was not only concerned with industry, Nkrumah was
also adamant that housing provision was to be enhanced. The aluminium
plant workers were to be housed in a purpose built new town at Kpong
with an array of social amenities, parks, health and education
facilities.
The problem, like with most idealistic visions, was funding the
venture. Nkrumah had secured some, if limited, backing from the UK
government, and was hoping for the UK-Canadian aluminium venture to
provide the remainder.
Nkrumah’s commitment to high quality housing for the smelter workers
was admirable – but the business consortium didn’t share this generous
vision and was reluctant to fund even the most basic dwellings. The idea
of providing extensive sports facilities and high quality
infrastructure was an anathema. The negotiations eventually failed.
But the project was too important to Nkrumah and he persisted in
seeking new partners, including Soviet support, which deeply concerned
the UK and US. Eventually, US steel magnate and dam builder Henry J. Kaiser
agreed to deliver the project. The deal involved moving the smelter
closer to the new town of Tema, and using imported US bauxite. This
destroyed Nkrumah’s aspirations to use local raw materials.
Nevertheless, a new town called Akosombo was built to house the
hydro-power station workers at the dam site. To this day it has a
carefully controlled town plan and highly accountable local government
to ensure that the main town is properly managed, complete with
maintained markets, roads and facilities.
The hydro-electric dam is still rightly a source of immense national
pride, and the prestige of the project is reflected in the township. It
is like no other town in Ghana, and its manicured landscapes, housing
and commitment to being a well run town renders it a highly attractive
place to live among the beautiful hills and within close proximity to
Accra.
But not everything worked out this well. A town called New Ajena was
also developed to house communities that were forced to move because of
the dam. This was a much less successful project.
Useful lessons can be learnt from both. In our recently published paper
we assessed the development of the high profile project from the
perspective of providing housing. Housing was indeed provided, but not
uniformly. In addition, extensive social provision was seen as a luxury
item and quickly cut from budgets by the early 1960s. As a result
housing for the most vulnerable was only deemed possible if it included a
“self-build” contribution by the residents themselves.
The failures
The dam resulted in the formation of one of the world’s largest
man-made lakes. 80,000 people living upstream were forced to flee their
fertile farms and ancestral lands as the water level continued to rise
and flooded their homes.
Nkrumah decreed that “no one would be made worse off” and a programme
of replacement homes and villages commenced. But there was substantial
delay.
The World Food Programme was forced to intervene. It didn’t simply
hand out supplies, but instead distributed food in exchange for labour.
Residents were forced to “clear” 450,000 acres (182,109 hectares) to
make way for the first 18 resettlement sites. 739 villages were
eventually consolidated into 52 townships to benefit from economies of
scale for services, school provision, road maintenance and market
stalls.
New Ajena was one of the first resettlement villages to replace the
former Ajena now submerged by the lake. Sites were selected based on
being easily accessible, close to good farming areas, and ideally at
high altitude with a good water supply. This did not leave many options
and most new settlements, like New Ajena, were simply placed at the lake
edge. The housing stock loosely tracks the road and is arranged in
informal clusters. Core Housing at New Ajena.Iain Jackson, CC BY-NC-SA
The use of standard components and basic construction resulted in
rapid production rates with over 200 houses built a week, and 11,000
units completed by 1964. The housing type was called a “core house” –
effectively a single room and raised veranda. The idea was for the
residents to gradually extend the houses as required, according to a
prescribed plan and building standard.
As part of my research
I spoke to some residents who have lived in the settlement since the
early 1960s. They can remember the developments that have taken place.
They can recall some larger families being forced to move from
substantial multi-room structures to one simple room which resulted in
overcrowded and unsanitary conditions.
Extensions and modifications to the core houses have been limited,
although most have added an extra room and extended the front porch.
Water is still obtained via a stand-pipe which serves as the local
gathering place. There are shared latrines (which are generally
unpopular) although many residents have constructed their own
bathhouses.
Undelivered promises
The promise of material modernisation has still not been delivered. A
small primary school was built along with the core houses and more
recently a secondary school has been constructed by the residents. A
shop provides basic supplies and most residents keep goats and chickens
and grow fruit and vegetables. The settlement has been criticised for
its unauthorised structures and land use, but without this cultivation,
such a remote town could not have survived.
While the development has not quite adhered to the plan and early
proposals inflicted hardship on many, it is now very much a thriving
settlement. Basic social amenities are slowly being added as the village
sees fit.
Formal planning and the precise placing of buildings, overly
prescriptive building regulations and rule-making have yielded to a
schematic set of principles that devolve far greater control to
residents and they should be commended for their efforts.
Lessons learned
The Akosombo
plan is a pristine example of top-down planning with a highly
controlled environment. But it only managed to house a small and
privileged portion of society. If this model can be funded and delivered
to a large community it is certainly a valid and attractive option.
Where this is not possible, New Ajena offers another route, one that
is more inclusive and reliant on the goodwill and hard work of the
community, but one that shows how large populations can be rehoused
quickly.
Of course, it need not be a case of one or the other, and the planned
Akosombo model, with associated satellite self-built villages, could
deliver a sustainable and affordable solution to housing in Ghana.
Journalists
and researchers have one thing in common: we seek the truth. I work
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David Arthur
Iain Jackson
Professor and Architect, University of Liverpool