14 Years of Production: Ghanaians See Oil as Neither Blessing nor Curse — Research
A few years ago, I stumbled into a conversation at a chop bar in Takoradi that I honestly wasn’t prepared for. I’d just finished a bowl of fufu and goat light soup (highly recommend, by the way), and this older gentleman next to me leaned over and asked, “So, where’s the oil money?”
I laughed awkwardly, thinking he was joking. He wasn’t.
Turns out, he had worked at the port for over two decades and had seen the oil rigs come, the expats arrive, the big promises float through the air — and then nothing. Or at least, not the kind of “something” people expected.
And that’s kinda the thing, isn’t it?
It’s been 14 years since Ghana started pumping oil from the Jubilee Field. That moment — back in 2010 — felt huge. Like winning a national lottery. We were all told (or maybe we just assumed?) that oil would change everything. Better roads, better schools, more jobs, less stress. You name it.
But fast forward to now, and when you ask the average Ghanaian what oil has done for them, they kinda just shrug.
That’s what this recent research shows too — people don’t really see oil as a blessing or a curse. It’s just... there.
Now, that’s interesting. Because usually with resources like oil, countries either go full-on celebration mode (“We’re rich!”) or tumble into what’s called the resource curse — corruption, inequality, environmental damage. Basically, oil makes things worse.
But in Ghana’s case? Meh.
It’s not that things have gone completely sideways. The economy’s had its ups and downs (more downs lately if we’re being real), and oil revenue has added to government coffers. But people don’t feel the impact personally.
Like, think about it: If you walk through Nima, or Hohoe, or even some parts of Takoradi — where the oil buzz started — you’ll still see potholes, overcrowded schools, and folks hustling just to get by.
In my experience, what frustrates people the most isn’t that oil hasn’t made them rich. It’s that it could have done so much more — and didn’t.
There’s this quiet disappointment that’s hard to put into words.
Some blame the politicians (no surprises there). Others point to the lack of transparency in how oil money is used. A few just shrug and say, “Ghana diɛɛ, this is how things are.” That last one stings the most, honestly.
We’ve somehow accepted that oil came and life didn’t really change.
But maybe — and I’m just thinking out loud here — maybe that’s a kind of blessing in disguise? Maybe dodging the worst parts of the resource curse is something to be thankful for? I don’t know. It’s complicated.
Still, it feels like a story half-written. A potential that never quite took off.
And that guy from the chop bar? He finished his Star beer, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “If the oil can’t fix small-small water problem in my area, then what’s the point?”
Good question.
Maybe the better one is: What would it take for Ghanaians to finally feel the oil? Not in reports or speeches — but in everyday life. In their wallets, their homes, their kids’ futures.
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