In our nation referred to as Ghana, titles are handed out like flyers at a trotro station. It’s widespread, virtually instinctive, to be referred to as “Chairman”, “Boss”, “Chief”, “Officer”, and even “Captain” with out ever incomes the place, sporting the badge, or commanding a single ship.
These aren’t job descriptions; they’re social greetings, honourifics gifted freely within the market of Ghanaian interplay.
Normally, all it takes is eye contact, a nod, and perhaps a agency handshake, and increase, you are “Chairman”. No questions requested.
This development, subtly woven into our tradition, is extra than simply playful banter; it’s a type of social lubrication.
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The title you obtain may rely in your dressing, your swagger, your perceived age, or how somebody’s spirit vibes with you at that second.
In a society the place guessing somebody’s age might land you in hassle, and first names are sometimes reserved for friends or shut associates – actually not elders – utilizing these titles turns into the most secure path to keep away from embarrassment or, worse, disrespect.
The playful change of one-up titles, “No, you be the massive chairman!” displays Ghanaian politeness norms, the place standing is acknowledged but in addition instantly equalised to foster respect.
It’s a captivating combination of hierarchical acknowledgement and egalitarian behaviour very typical of how particularly Ghanaian males talk.
What began as informal avenue slang has now turn out to be a nationwide code. Whether or not you are at a funeral, within the fitness center, or simply strolling by your neighbourhood kiosk, anticipate somebody to hail you with a title you didn’t know you had.
It’s respectful, it is relatable, and it retains you guessing whether or not you look extra like a “Bossu” or a “Don”. And right here’s the kicker: no one is aware of anybody’s actual identify.
Take me, as an example. Only a few days in the past, it dawned on me that for over three years, I had been calling my fitness center mates “Champ”, “Boss”, and “Chairman”. Not as soon as did I ask for his or her precise names.
It wasn’t till we needed to change contacts that actuality struck: I needed to assign names to those males in my phonebook, and all I had was a refrain of nicknames.
In relation to greeting rituals, Ghanaians, particularly the lads, have mastered the artwork of title tennis.
Name somebody “Boss”, and he’ll immediately deflect with, “No, no, you’re the larger boss!” Say “Chairman”, and also you’ll get a, “I dey underneath you, Captain!” It turns into a hierarchy tug-of-war the place nobody needs to say seniority, and every needs to out-humble the opposite.
These back-and-forths aren’t simply amusing; they’re significant. They mirror mutual respect, a refusal to tug rank, and a light-hearted approach to set up equality in dialog.
And one way or the other, even if no actual info is exchanged, a friendship is born. It is stunning chaos.
Apparently, this mode of communication aligns with linguist Deborah Tannen’s analysis: males sometimes have interaction in “report speak” targeted on standing and hierarchy, whereas girls lean in the direction of “rapport speak”, prioritising connection and empathy.
In Ghana, these kinds blur. Males set up hierarchy with nicknames, then instantly flatten it with humility, creating each respect and camaraderie.
The women, after all, aren’t unnoticed. They’re often met with a softer, typically flirtatious tone – “Sweetheart”, “Expensive”, “Empress” – once more, titles not tied to actuality however to temper, admiration, or mischief.
So the following time somebody in Ghana calls you “President”, “Landlord”, and even “Director of Enjoyment Affairs”, don’t appropriate them.
It’s not a mistake; it’s a heat handshake in phrases, an icebreaker wearing imaginary authority.
As a result of in Ghana, you don’t have to know somebody’s identify to know their price. You simply want the appropriate title and a powerful handshake.
By Samuel Awuni
