- Decades of chieftaincy disputes, recurrent violence, and insecure lives in Bawku and Kusaug
- Education disrupted, markets silenced, crops destroyed – daily life badly affected
- Residents suffer loss, displacement, trauma; healing undermined by uncertainty
For decades, the people of Bawku and the broader Kusaug traditional area have been caught in cycles of chieftaincy disputes, recurring insecurity, and shifting political tides. Entire neighbourhoods have been forced to flee during outbreaks of violence; farmers have seen their crops destroyed, and markets that once bustled with activity have gone silent.
Schools have often shut their doors as families fled in search of safety, leaving children with interrupted education and an ongoing sense of instability. Life’s daily struggles have become as complex as the conflict itself.
The period spanning 2024 and early 2025 was especially brutal. Renewed conflict over the reinstatement of a rival leader, armed clashes in and around Bawku, and massive security deployments left civilians trapped between warring factions.
Residents describe nights of terror, lost or injured loved ones, looted shops, and abandoned harvests. For many, years of painstaking rebuilding were wiped away, savings drained, and faith that peace could last severely shaken. The emotional toll has cut deep: grief, anxiety, and distrust now run through households and across generations.
As Ghana moves toward another election cycle, these experiences are shaping how people in Kusaug—and also those in the diaspora—are thinking about national leadership, especially with former Vice President Dr. Bawumia increasingly central in political discussions. For communities long scarred by conflict, the concerns go beyond who holds power in Accra: they demand leaders who will protect lives, foster reconciliation, and invest in stability so that markets, schools, and homes can once again be safe places.
From past political alignments we see lessons: unwavering loyalty to one party may foster solidarity, but it can also limit a region’s influence when governments change. Kusaug’s strong ties with the NDC, rooted in grievances and hopes, have at times left the area feeling sidelined under NPP administrations—when access to official channels, funding, or security responses did not always meet expectations.
Regions that maintain respectful relationships with all political actors tend to have more consistent advocacy power. Kusaug does not need to abandon its principles, but broadening relationships—political, civic, religious—may allow the people to pursue peace and development regardless of which party is in power.
Participation and cautious engagement are thus strategic. Staying involved ensures local realities inform national policies on security, compensation, education, and economic recovery. It prevents decisions being made based on outsider perspectives and encourages leaders to understand lived experiences. But such involvement must be backed by visible actions: security, fairness, justice, infrastructure, and accountability.
Looking ahead, Kusaug stands at a crossroads. Leaders must acknowledge past harms, offer concrete remedies, and show empathy. The community must stay engaged, insist on inclusion and fairness, and put forth constructive proposals for healing and development. Ultimately, lasting peace will depend less on who wins any single election and more on whether all sides—local and national—commit to a pattern of trust, justice, and shared responsibility. Only then might Kusaug move from its legacy of trauma toward a future of dignity, safety, and opportunity.
