'I was duped into leaving London for school in Ghana - but it saved me' - Voice of Asia

At the age of 16, my mother told me that I would be going to Ghana from the UK for the summer, and I had no reason to doubt her. At the time, I thought it was just a short trip, a temporary break, and nothing to worry about. I assumed it would be a normal summer vacation.

However, a month later, she suddenly announced that I would not be returning to London until I had turned over a new leaf and obtained sufficient GCSE grades to continue my education. This reminded me of the recent case in London's High Court where a British-Ghanaian teenager sued his parents for sending him to school in Ghana. This situation highlights the complexities of parental decisions made with the best intentions.

Their parents argued that they did not want to see their 14-year-old son become "another black teenager stabbed on the streets of London." In the mid-1990s, my mother, a primary school teacher, had similar concerns. I had been expelled from two high schools in Brent, London, was hanging out with the wrong crowd, and was heading down a dangerous path. My closest friends at the time ended up in prison for armed robbery. Had I stayed in London, I would almost certainly have been sentenced along with them. This underscores the importance of addressing youth crime and providing positive alternatives.

However, being sent to Ghana also felt like a punishment. I somewhat understood the teenager who, in his court statement, said he felt like he was "living in hell." But personally, when I turned 21, I realized that everything my mother had done was a blessing. Unlike the boy in the London court case, I did not attend boarding school in Ghana. My mother entrusted me to the care of her two closest brothers, who wanted to look after me and felt that being with boarders might distract me. Her decision was based on personal care and attention.

I first lived with my uncle Fiifi, a former UN environmentalist, in a town called Dansoman, near the capital, Accra. The change in lifestyle was immense. In London, I had my own bedroom, access to a washing machine, and a certain level of independence, even if I was using it recklessly. In Ghana, I woke up at 5 a.m. to sweep the yard and wash my uncle's often mud-covered pickup truck and my aunt's car. Later, I stole her car, which was a turning point. I didn't even know how to drive properly, treating the manual transmission like an automatic, and ended up crashing into a senior military officer's Mercedes. I tried to flee the scene, but the officer caught me and threatened to take me to Burma Camp, a notorious military base where people had disappeared in the past. That was the last truly reckless thing I did. This experience forced me to confront the consequences of my actions.

I learned more than just discipline in Ghana; I also gained a new perspective. Living in Ghana made me realize how much I had taken for granted. Washing clothes by hand and preparing meals with my aunt made me appreciate how much effort was required. Food, like everything else in Ghana, required patience. There were no microwaves, no fast-food restaurants. For example, making the traditional dough-like food fufu was both laborious and required pounding cooked yams or cassava into a paste with a mortar and pestle. At the time, I felt it was a punishment. Looking back, it cultivated my resilience. These simple tasks taught me valuable life skills.

Initially, my uncles considered sending me to high-end schools like Ghana International School or SOS-Hermann Gmeiner International College. But they were smart. They knew I might form a new gang to cause chaos and mischief. Instead, I received private tutoring at Accra Academy, a state secondary school that my late father had attended. This meant I often received instruction alone or in small groups. The lessons were taught in English, but outside of school, the people around me often spoke the local language, which I found easy to learn, perhaps because it was an immersive experience. At home in London, I used to enjoy learning swear words in my mother's Fante language, but was far from fluent. Later, I moved to Tema to live with my favorite uncle, Jojo, an agricultural expert, and I continued to receive private tutoring at Tema Secondary School. This personalized approach proved to be effective.

Unlike the boy who became a news item in the UK, who claimed that the Ghanaian education system was substandard, I found it to be very rigorous. Although I was somewhat troublesome, I was considered academically gifted in the UK, but I actually found it tough in Ghana. Students my age were far ahead in subjects like math and science. The rigor of the Ghanaian system pushed me to study harder than I ever had in London. The result? I obtained five GCSEs at grade C or above, which had once seemed impossible. The challenging environment motivated me to excel.

Beyond academic achievements, Ghanaian society instilled values that have stayed with me throughout my life. Respect for elders was non-negotiable. In the communities where I lived, you greeted those older than you, whether you knew them or not. Ghana not only made me more disciplined and respectful of others, but it also made me fearless. Football played a huge role in this transformation. I played in parks that were often hard, red clay with loose pebbles and stones, and two square goalposts made of wood and rope. This was a far cry from the well-maintained pitches in England, but it toughened me up in ways I couldn't have imagined, and it's no wonder some of the greatest footballers seen in the English Premier League come from West Africa. The aggressive style of play in Ghana was not just about skill, but about resilience and endurance. Being tackled on rough ground meant getting up, dusting yourself off, and moving on. This instilled a sense of perseverance in me.

Every Sunday, I played football on the beach, although I was often late because my uncles absolutely would not allow me to stay home instead of going to church. Those services felt like they lasted forever. But it also testified to the fact that Ghana is a God-fearing nation, and faith is deeply ingrained in daily life. Religion played a significant role in shaping the community and its values.

The initial 18 months were the toughest. I hated the restrictions, the chores, and the discipline. I even tried to steal my passport to fly back to London, but my mother was one step ahead of me and hid it well. There was no escape. My only option was to adapt. At some point, I stopped seeing Ghana as a prison and started seeing it as a happy home. This shift in perspective was crucial for my personal growth.

I know there are others like me who were sent back to Ghana by their parents living in London. Michael Adom, who arrived in Accra in the 1990s at the age of 17 to attend school, described his experience as "bittersweet." He stayed until he was 23 and has now returned to London as a probation officer. His main complaint was loneliness; he missed his family and friends. At times, he felt angry about his situation and misunderstood. This was largely because his parents had not taught him and his siblings any local languages while growing up in London. "I don't understand Ga, I don't understand Twi, I don't understand Pidgin," the 49-year-old told me. This made him feel vulnerable during his first two and a half years, and he said he was easily scammed by people who inflated prices because he looked like a foreigner. "Anywhere I went, I had to make sure I went with someone," he said. Language barriers can significantly impact the integration experience.

But he eventually became fluent in Twi, and overall, he believes the positives outweighed the negatives: "It made me a man. My experience in Ghana matured me and made me a better person by helping me realize who I am, as a Ghanaian, and solidifying my understanding of my culture, background, and family history." The experience fostered a stronger sense of identity and cultural understanding.

I agree with that. By my third year, I had fallen in love with the culture and even stayed for nearly two more years after passing my GCSEs. I developed a deep appreciation for the local food. In London, I never gave much thought to what I was eating. But in Ghana, food was more than just sustenance; every dish had its own story. I became hooked on "waakye," a dish made from rice and black-eyed peas, often cooked with millet leaves, giving it a distinctive purplish-brown color. It is typically served with fried plantains, spicy black pepper sauce "shito," boiled eggs, and sometimes even spaghetti or fried fish. It's the ultimate comfort food. I loved the music, the warmth of the people, and the sense of community. I was no longer just "stuck" in Ghana; I was thriving. The cultural immersion transformed my perspective and enriched my life.

My mother, Patience Wilberforce, recently passed away, and her death has led me to deeply reflect on the decision she made all those years ago. She saved me. If she hadn't tricked me into staying in Ghana, I would most likely have a criminal record or even be serving time in prison. I went on to study media production and communication at the London Northwest College when I was 20, and then joined BBC Radio 1Xtra through a mentorship program. Those I used to hang out with in northwest London didn't get the same second chance that I did. Ghana reshaped my way of thinking, my values, and my future. It turned a misguided menace into a responsible person. While such an experience may not be suitable for everyone, it gave me the education, discipline, and respect needed to reintegrate into society upon my return to the UK. For that, I am eternally grateful to my mother, my uncles, and the country that saved me. Her foresight and their support changed the course of my life.