Keywords

Introduction

Ghana is a youthful nation because as at 2018, approximately 39% of the population was below 15 years (Population Reference Bureau, 2018). Culturally, Ghana is a fairly paternalistic society with considerable authority vested in adult males in decision-making processes (Nukunya, 2003), as in many parts of the developing world where patriarchal family models may be found, for example in Brazil (Aptekar and Stoecklin 2014, Moulin & Pereira, 2000); Nigeria (Ayodele, 2016), Mali (Dougnon, 2012), Senegal (Mbaye & Fall, 2000) and India (Gibbon et al., 2014). This entitles adults to assume representational rights over others in society, sometimes even constraining them, especially children, from expressing their personal views, expectations and directions of their lives. There are however differences in how such representational rights and the authority that accompanies them are applied by adults in children’s lives thus bringing to the fore the differential nature of childhood in Ghana. Factors such as family economy, parents’ educational and general social background, residence—rural or urban—forms of control and nurturance bring multidimensionality to childhood and the everyday experiences of children.

A central trait in whatever form of childhood one experiences in Ghanaian societies and in many African societies is the tradition of respect and obedience such that some adults are generally enabled to claim an almost religious authority over their children or other subordinates (Ikuomola, 2017; Ofosu-Kusi, 2017a, b). Corresponding to this is a filial obligation to project the wishes and demands of parents. That obligation in its most comprehensive form (in the case of mature children) includes economic support, health and safety needs, sociality, emotional well-being (Caro, 2014), among others. Yet, for many children, adults such as parents, teachers and even NGO officials who purport to represent their interest are unable to constructively articulate their plight when necessary. Nevertheless, while the majority of children accept this authority in homes and schools, others are currently questioning its absoluteness by finding ways to constructively participate in decisions affecting them or assuming some degree of control over their lives. However, in cases where this new form of engagement with those in control of their lives has been disingenuously approached, ensuing criticisms have been swift.

Street children constitute a group of children who have increasingly incurred the wrath of adults and society as a whole for being disobedient, for disregarding the authority of their parents or for daring to stand up to the adults they encounter on the streets. Reasons that motivate them to transgress this deferential expectation are diverse. It could be a bid to escape from domestic privations, verbal or physical abuse, school-related problems, boredom, or even peer pressure (Department of Social Welfare, Ricerca E Cooperazione and Catholic Action for Street Children 2011). Without any intention of glamorising streetism, one might be right in hypothesising that street children epitomise a generation of children who are adventurous and courageous enough to disregard the demands of their parents by venturing onto the streets of major cities of the country, often after careful planning and deliberation. The public reaction to such actions is usually disbelief; hence they are often criticised as disobedient, disrespectful, recalcitrant children; and even pejoratively labelled as kubolor or good-for-nothing children in pursuit of the elusive attractions of the city (Korboe, 1997).

Yet, as will be argued in the chapter, some street children deliberately defy parents, disengage themselves from families, and assume proto-adult status as a way of claiming decision-making space in order to assert rights and self-representation. We encounter a framing of representation that is personal rather than derived from a third party; a reconfiguration from an external source to an internalized form with its efficacy determined by the actor, in this case the child. That bid is exemplified and given substantive backing by the monetary and in-kind contributions some of them make to their families back at home thus bringing some financial relief. But, while the behaviour on one hand empowers children and elevates their agency, it on the other hand, undermines the authority of parents (or adults) and therefore upends the traditional distribution of power and authority and the accompanying assumption that decisions are made by adults to be unquestionably followed by children.

Rights and Representation in the Context of Urban Informality

One source of street children’s claim to independence that enables them to be self-proclaiming individuals is their sojourn in the cities of Ghana, especially Accra and Kumasi, where they are fully or marginally absorbed into the informal sector. The informal sector, as Henry (1987, p. 139) posits is “the generic term for the range of overlapping sub-economies that are not taken into account by formal measures of economic activity”. Keith Hart (2000, p. 68) considers it as the “world of economic activities outside the organized labour force…”; while Harris-White (2010, p. 170) describes it as: “Activities outside the regulative ambit of the state”; often atomistic in nature and performed by what Hart calls a “Dickensian mob” of petty traders, hawkers, barbers, repairers, etc. Though a product of developmental challenges (Davis, 2006; Mayne, 2017), the informal sector is an important source of employment, and is even touted as the future of economic growth and development throughout the developing world. For example, according to the African Development Bank (AfDB, 2013), it accounts for 80% of Africa’s labour force and contributes over 55% of its gross domestic product (GDP). These characteristics and potential of the informal sector make it attractive and accessible to children. If, as is increasingly predicted, it is the future driving force of African economies, then one would be right in assuming that it would play significant roles in the lives of families and their children. From a child’s perspective, the attractiveness of the sector lies in the non-enforcement of labour laws, especially age restrictions, and the ease with which they would be absorbed by the ensemble of small-scale operators. For this reason, it is quite probable that the number of children engaged in its myriad activities will continue to rise as children seek work to earn money, escape rural drudgery, capriciousness of parents and dysfunctional families, poverty-imposed vulnerabilities and dispossession of childhood entitlements (Mizen & Ofosu-Kusi, 2013). Using an elastic definition comprising children born on the streets, migrant children and urban poor children who roam the city to earn money, a census of street children in Greater Accra in 2009 found 61,492 children (Department of Social Welfare, Ricerca E Copoperazione and Catholic Action for Street Children 2011).

Children on or of the streets (UNICEF), runaway children, homeless children, street-connected children or “Children in Street Situations” are what the Committee on the Rights of the Child (General Comment No. 21, 2017) describes as: “A wider population of children who have formed strong connections with public spaces and for whom the street plays a vital role in their everyday lives and identities” (p. 3). Crucially, these are children who derive their existence and livelihood from such spaces in many cases without the benefit of significant adults as guardians. While we tend to think of street children as a uniform group of people denominated by extreme poverty, jaundiced lifestyles and disoriented childhoods, the reality is that they are a very heterogeneous group of people marked by variations in their backgrounds, experiences and motivations. A thread that binds them is that they might have been ushered into regimes of work when they were quite young as part of their socialization, or possibly what Apterkar and Stoecklin (2014), p. 14) consider, “premature entry into adult roles such as marriage, hazardous labour or combat”, or an “initiation … into local activities and knowledge” that was predominated by work (Dougnon, 2012, p. 143). Hence, in contrast to Western societies where, as Myers (2001) argues, there is a clear distinction between childhood and adulthood and for that matter extends children’s dependency into adolescence, what pertains in Ghana (as in many parts of the Global South) is a thin, almost imperceptible line, between childhood and adulthood. It is invariable that children, depending on their family background, will make a contribution to the family’s economy based on their ability and potential, but not necessarily a legal or bureaucratic age. This may be in the domestic arena, in their community or further afield such as Accra. Street children and what they do to survive is a worthwhile example of differentiated or alternative childhoods in Ghana and raises questions about whether such children should be sent back home if possible to ensure a ‘proper’ childhood for them, or whether their childhood rights should be reinterpreted to accommodate work as a fulfilment of their aspirations (Liebel, 2012; Bourdillon & Spittler, 2012). After all, as appropriately noted by Apterkar and Stoecklin (2014), p. 2), “…they are actors trying to surmount their difficulties by creating a world that helps them survive.”

According to Holzscheiter (2016), p. 209), “Representation is a form of power…it encompasses the possibility and authority to express, defend, and advocate for…others without their immediate involvement or control”. In this context, we think of children’s representation as one occasioned by others; its actualization is through the generosity of others, principally adults, NGOs and rights-based agencies. An obvious challenge to this notion of representation is ambivalence since the advocates might be torn between their own interest and those of their constituencies, and might therefore motivate a superimposition of their values on those of their subjects. Parents, uncles and aunts, older siblings; extended family members, and teachers are all in this frame and frequently claim to be representing the interest and pursuing the well-being of children. Yet, if as Holzscheiter (2016, p. 209) points out, representation implies power over a particular constituency in the sense that “someone stands in place of another”, then whose rights do parents or NGOs for example advocate when they claim to make decisions or influence policies affecting children. We may believe parents, because of the natural tendency to care for their children, although this is sometimes marred by toxic socialization. Similarly, while the intentions of some NGOs may be genuine, those of others are in some cases severely compromised by self-interest. The CRC may suffer the same fate when the competing claims and interests for its development and substance are interrogated. As Droz (2013, p. 116) posits, it “articulates a universalistic catalogue of rights that originates in a culturally specific conception of children: the ‘precious child’ of twentieth century neo-liberal thought about the self-governing individual…”. Its divergence with other cultures’ interpretation of childhood and children’s experiences especially in the Global South has received considerable attention (see e.g. Boyden, 1997; Ennew, 2000; Ennew, 2005; Myers, 2001). Thus, the depths of representation, be it personalized or externalized, may vary according to the degree and recognition of the tenets of the CRC. Unsurprisingly, post-colonial thoughts on the CRC point to a new form of cultural imperialism in which traditional adult-child relationship has been supplanted by western concepts of childhood that is deemed to be superior to the latter (Liebel, 2017).

Nevertheless, the spirit of the CRC and its articles have been translated into various national constitutions as well as specific acts such as Ghana’s Children Act 560, Kenya’s Children’s Bill of Rights, Nigeria’s Child Rights Act among others. Having achieved this foundational status, the CRC remains the most critical document on comparative discourses on children’s lives. For example, Article 12 provides considerable scope on the child’s right to express an opinion and be listened to, thus affording children opportunity to participate in decisions or matters that directly affect them. This implies some amount of consultation where the child has the capacity to form an opinion. It is not so easy to operationalise this, especially in spheres where conservative rather than progressive thoughts on childhood are foregrounded. While it is quite easy for African elites and middle class to appreciate a childhood based on the articles of the CRC, it poses considerable challenges to the poor, rural dwellers, illiterates etc. because of the utilitarian value they might place on their children. In the midst of high structural inequalities, households with limited economic resources, limited formal education, unstable sources of employment and income are likely to depend on their children for support in their occupations (Ofosu-Kusi, 2017a). In such situations, children’s consent may not be sought, while representation of their interests or recognition of their rights may play second fiddle to their economic contributions. Any form of insistence on what children perceive to be their rights, especially if it is in opposition to the wishes of adults would be interpreted as insolence.

Researching Urban Informal Childhoods

The series of research underlining this chapter was undertaken over a period of three years. Among other objectives, it sought to understand children’s street life as labour, engagements and relational challenges with their families and how they reconcile that with their own interests. This was pursued through a programme of qualitative studies in which the researchers variously interacted with 102 core participants, comprising 48 boys and 54 girls, in some of the principal streets, markets, transport stations, and a large slum euphemistically described as an informal settlement, all in Accra. Aged between 8 and 17 years, they had migrated to Accra from all regions of the country and Togo, a neighbouring country to the east of Accra. At arranged and spontaneous encounters, we engaged them in what we called “dialogue with a purpose”, during which children were given the opportunity to express themselves through in-depth interviews and focus group discussions. During these sessions they reminisced on their lives back home, reflected on their past and present experiences of street life, as well as speculated on their futures. In addition, we undertook unstructured observations as well as photo-elicitation exercises that empowered the children to capture aspects of their street life on camera so that we could see through their eyes as knowledgeable subjects of inquiry.

Over the course of the research, three sets of interviews were conducted. The first set, based primarily on 72-hour-recall of work experiences, aimed to explore the finer details of children’s work such as job descriptions, work patterns, earnings, expenditures, daily aggravations in work, and social life. The second set explored personal backgrounds with emphasis on personal well-being, especially hygiene, infestations and illness, food and hunger, schooling and education, paid and unpaid work, and time use. The third focused on some of the earlier themes but sought greater depth on how they continued to maintain relations with their families, inter-child relations, adult-child relations and their expectations. In all this, the children were positioned as socially capable, and privileged beings, who as “arbiters of their own experience” (Clark, 1999, p. 39), are most qualified to generate discursive constructions that take their origins from their social environments.

The most pressing challenge was the actions of gatekeepers, mostly older street children and adults, who behaved as if they had proprietary rights over the children and therefore had representational rights. Many of them insisted on being interviewed in place of the children. The contradiction here is that whereas these people took for granted children’s capacity to work on the streets, paternalistic instincts drove many of them to question the children’s capacity to represent themselves by developing and articulating views, processing information and therefore competently participating in research. Representational claims made by the adults is born out of the assumption of their power over children and the presumed social obligation to protect them.

A Quest for Representation and Rights

Children’s representation and quest for rights inherent in the CRC are severely hampered by the socio-economic conditions of their families. Hence socio-economic pressures on some families have had the concomitant effect of pushing their children into a premature assumption of adult roles, not simply as workers but as direct financial contributors. But in doing so, they leverage their income-earning potential to chip off some parental authority and bolster their self-representation. As noted earlier, the informal sector is a challenging but welcoming arena for children to engage in all kinds of activities. Considering the amount of time, the hazardous conditions under which they work and the intensity of their labour, their earnings are meagre because their street life is immersed in a net of social relations of exploitation and dispossession by the adults they work for. Nonetheless, the opportunities for paid work regardless of the amount surpass those of the villages they originated from. In this regard, some of the participants claimed to be earning reasonable incomes, with the trend, especially for the 14- to 16-year-olds, who worked for themselves being incomes that exceeded the daily national minimum wage at the time. This enabled them to save some money on good days so that they could occasionally remit their parents back at home. The efforts were small gestures that sporadically helped to alleviate acute hardships or very short-term privations. Arguably, their families could have subsisted without those remittances, nonetheless such monetary contributions brought some relief at times of critical needs. Besides, all children who travel to Accra indirectly lessen the caretaking and monetary burdens on their families since they assume responsibility for themselves while on the streets. This however comes at some social and cultural cost to parents in particular since the financial independence provides them with the wherewithal to contest their parents’ authority as well as claim self-representation in matters concerning them.

Assertiveness and Disregard for Parental Authority

Inadequacies and vulnerabilities are in themselves propellants for children to seek alternative forms of representation and relief through migration. Staying put to absorb the uncertainties at home and the shortcomings of parents confirms their obeisance. On the other hand, where such vulnerabilities propel action (Sayer, 2011) and children abandon their parents through migration for example, they would be confirming defiance. A sociocultural implication of the latter especially if children become economic agents either on the streets or at home is an embodied resistance to familial authority; a weakening of parental claim to representation and their ability to exercise control and traditional authority over them. This is manifested in the increasing assertiveness of their children, particularly in taking initiatives, managing, and determining the course of their lives. This trend cannot be attributed to the pervasiveness of the UNCRC or the constitutional rights of children, but circumstantial developments arising from relative deprivation. What sustains this assertiveness is children’s realisation that an economic life exists outside domestic and family boundaries as evidenced by the fact that almost all the children in the study left their homes without initially informing their parents of their intentions to seek greener pastures elsewhere. This may look like a benign action but represents a cultural affront to the adults who were ignored when such momentous actions were taken by their children. Bietu (female) symbolizes this assertiveness, when she emphatically noted that:

I didn’t [inform parents] because they wouldn’t have let me… sometimes we do things that we shouldn’t do but we do them anyway because sometimes we have to do things for ourselves… [15-years-old head-porter]

Though she uses an abstract collective interpretation, presupposing that other children behave as she did, the critical point is that she projected her personal interest to supersede other considerations even if it were unacceptable to others. This shows some deliberation over her action and acknowledgement of a disregard for her parents’ authority in preference for personal space and agency. The contextual significance of her reasoning lies in the fact that children from her community in northern Ghana are socialised under a pervasive patriarchal system. Defying a father or even any older male in the household could be a considerable source of familial tension (Assimeng, 1999). Generally, then, although the children were acutely aware of the social strictures on their self-determination, they responded in ways that promoted their personal capacities. Ala (male) for example claimed this tendency to be common to most children on the streets.

Many children just do what they like…many of them here came without telling their parents that they are going to be here. They only tell them when they get here and even when they send for them they don’t go back home… [14years-old off-loader]

That, children “just do what they like” (Ala) or “have to do things” for themselves (Bietu) underline their estimations of a decline in parental authority in some families but correspondingly raise the stakes for children. There is an opposition of self-interest and parental authority; there is acknowledgement of authority but a refusal to heed it. It connotes a margin of decline in the confidence they can repose in their parents. The traditional perception that views and wishes of parents are sacrosanct may not be fully appreciated by children whose aspirations cannot be actively influenced by parents. Larkins (2014, p. 21) describes such behaviour as “acts of citizenship”, in that claims relating to it result in “shifts in rights and responsibilities, new distributions of resources”; and a shifting of boundaries to create new actors who are “claimants of rights and responsibilities”. However, the fact that children send messages back to parents demonstrates their recognition of the traditional authority their parents wield over them, even if their actions dilute its efficacy and significance. Thus, for Steve (male) a clear linkage exists between the recalcitrance of some children and the increasing number of children in the cities.

I think some children are to blame because they don’t listen to their parents, they won’t pay any heed even if they ordered them not to leave, so they also leave their lives to them, that is why there are so many children on the streets… [15-years-old truck-pusher]

What Steve raises (just like Ala) is the frustration of some parents. In this instance, parents may have been aware of children’s decision to travel and therefore “ordered them not to leave”. The fact that children act to the contrary symbolises some decline or even failure of that authority. However, while some parents may abandon any hope of influencing the lives of children in such situations as Steve has indicated, the reality is that many parents themselves have limited resources to reverse the situation. For example, many of the children cited parental neglect as a justifiable reason for not informing their parents of their intentions. According to Steve, he did not give prior notice to his parents because “It will worry my mother but not my father. He has been saying all the time that it won’t bother him if I weren’t one of his children…”. For Abe (male)

… it was useless telling my father, he is a hard man and doesn’t care about any of us. Sometimes I think it is the work that he used to do (soldier). I don’t feel like going to him with my problems [14 years-old truck pusher]

While the emphasis on neglect reflects a weathered parental responsibility and representational claims, it is also symptomatic of a breakdown of the father-child relationship. The cause of this may be more complex but essentially circular. Fathers (and mothers) may neglect their children because of the children’s disrespect for their status and authority, which in turn generates the tendency for children to disregard their parents’ authority. Although, some children may perceive their parents’ inaction as neglect or irresponsibility, the primary reasons may lie in the difficulties they encounter in managing the social, economic and emotional conditions surrounding the exercise of their responsibilities as parents.

The children however were quite aware of the social and moral responsibilities parents had in shaping their future lives. As a result, some were worried about the reactions of their parents to their bold choices and the assertion of their agency. At the same time, they took solace in the physical distance separating them and the realisation that their anger might have subsided by the time they returned home. With this rationalization, there was blatant disregard of entreaties and orders from parents who wanted their children to return home, as the extracts from Otuo (male) and Josh (male) portray.

Otuo: My father has sent messages for me to come home but I have just come here and I need to get money and some things before I go home again. That way I won’t have to come here again…I can’t return until I have acquired those things…

YOK: Are you not disobeying your parents?

Otuo: [Long pause] Yes, but I’ll do what they want when I go back but I am here now so I will just try and get some money and go back. [13 years, barrow pusher]

According to Josh: “My father wants me to come back to the village but I can’t go now because I’ve just come, I need to get some money first before I can go home…”

YOK: Even as your father is asking you to come back?

Josh: I can’t do anything about going home now. I will go back but I need to get some things first. [14 years, Truck pusher]

The conflict of interest in both views lies in the recognition of the parents’ authority against the need to achieve their primary objectives of travelling to Accra. There is a sound logic to their argument, if the necessary balance can be found between the two contradictory expectations. They, after all, initiated their actions as a result of lapses in the socio-economic roles of their parents. Thus, their firm determination (“I can’t return…” (Otuo) and “…I can’t go now” (Josh)) diminishes the significance of any immediate response to the wishes of their fathers to return. The parents’ reactions to this may depend on the relative degree of impoverishment and the significant difference their acquisitions in Accra will make. It is plausible that parents who consider children’s earnings and acquisitions from Accra to be marginal and irrelevant may place more emphasis on the lack of respect for their authority. On the other hand, if the earnings and remittances can make significant differences, the disobedience may be treated as a simple case of the end justifying the means and may therefore be forgiven.

It is obvious that any dislocation of resources, for example through loss of employment, natural or man-made damage to property such as farmlands or means of production, and its ensuing poverty diminishes parents’ authority, and impacts their ability to back up their leadership with expectations of obedience and acquiescence. Clearly, the ability to function as the family head cannot be sustained through simple traditional authority; economic resources are needed to back up those responsibilities. The dearth of such resources, especially in the rural areas is the bane of the family and a consequent cause of the dilution in the authority of the father as the family head. There was therefore a sense of pessimism about parental responsibilities as far as some of the participants were concerned and for that reason provided the courage for them to disregard their instructions. In fact, the lack of capacity of their parents to track them because they might not have been to the city themselves or could not contemplate a trip to Accra in search of their children when they had no specific idea of their whereabouts emboldened the children. There is also the added dilemma of whether the children will heed their wishes even if they did manage to locate them in Accra. Bietu exemplifies this:

…my father doesn’t want me to be here. My elder brother came to trade here and when he told my father about the conditions in which I am living he ordered me to return. He even sent my brother to come for me because he feared for me…Well, I didn’t pay any heed…

YOK: And your mother?

Bietu: My mother also disapproves of my presence here and wants me to return to Tamale. My brother told me that she is worried that I will fall into the wrong company and maybe get pregnant… But now that I am here, I must get something before I return, I can’t stop everything here simply because they want me to return… [15 years, head porter]

Such direct refusals to heed the demands of parents will be interpreted by most people as disrespect for one’s parents. However, within the context of the risks and uncertainties children sustain in Accra, the desire to pursue their aspirations to the limit is powerful enough to justify such behaviours. The single-minded conviction of achieving their objectives for travelling to Accra makes them impervious to the wrath of parents. For some of Accra’s street children taking what they perceive to be decisions in their own best interest is a form of mobilization to not only stake a claim to decisions about their lives but also to assert a degree of self-representation and a consequent authority over it. This is evident in the enabling rights to be heard, of association, access to information (of the CRC), and even a form of children’s “protagonism” as Myers (2001, p. 51) argues. Leaving home without permission, deciding when to return, or who is remitted is justifiable even if it portends trouble at home or gives signals of disrespect because they are remedying some of the family’s challenges while actualising ideas and dreams through their own efforts. As in the case of children of African Movement of Working Children and Youth (AMWCY) in Senegal, their actions may be a way of activating a democratization process that bestows some degree of control over their lives (Fuchs, 2019), especially in their preparation for the future. Their actions therefore simultaneously ignite their own rights and representational abilities while diminishing those of parents.

Although there are instances of defiance, for example departing their villages for Accra without permission or abandoning their education, the children’s strategy is not an open contestation of the status quo. It is often a subtle and carefully thought-out re-appropriation of their relationship with other family members. They do not oppose “the moral master frame” of their society but “reinterpret this frame in order to increase their agency within it” (Fuchs, 2019, p. 7). The children therefore concurrently accept their status as children but also claim the right to make decisions about work, friendships, travel etc. It is a quest for liberation from the strictures of parental control, family dysfunction, overexploitation of their labour, poorly resourced schools and abusive teachers so that they can assume representational rights for themselves.

The Conjunction of Children’s Remittances, Rights, Representation and Authority

Participants demonstrated a clear desire to help their families in a variety of ways, usually by sending money or provisions. While this altruism can be interpreted as some effort in the alleviation of family poverty, an alternative explanation can be located in the reconciliation of the tension between parental authority and children’s agency. As noted in the preceding section, parents may interpret the lack of consultation and refusal to heed their instructions as clear cases of disobedience. Knowing this, children use remittances to pacify and eventually justify their initial action of disregarding their parents. While some parents may contest the economic roles of their children, their impoverished conditions however bring some degree of inevitability to the children’s decisions and actions. As evidenced in the following instances, children send home money and provisions upon the assumption that their families would be happy to receive them.

Chris: Yes, I send them money every now and then. I also buy clothes and provisions for them. I think they like it and are happy to receive from me since their son is working and everybody in the village knows that. It will help them … it will help them a lot. [male, 14-years old off-loader]

Asmao: Yes, I send money and provisions when somebody is going back to the north…They will be happy to receive those things [money and provisions] in the full knowledge that their daughter is doing well in Accra. [female, 14-years old head porter]

Gabby: I have only been here for six months yet I am able to send them some provisions. It will help somehow and I am sure they will he happy to receive it. They can get food from the farm but sometimes it is difficult to come by money to buy some basic items. [male, 15-years old off-loader]

The three cases project family constraints as the primary motivator for the children’s altruism, especially in an environment where they themselves live under adverse conditions. Gabby for example provides a picture of relative deprivation in which rural communities face no food poverty but lack sufficient money to fully participate in the cash economy—purchasing befitting clothes, shelter, health needs, children’s education and so on. There may not be any compulsion to remit, but the proto-adult status saddles them with premature economic roles by linking their absence from home to the need to make contributions. And as Asmao and Gabby claim, their parents are “happy to receive” money or other benefits-in-kind. For Ala, remittances will generate approbation since he will be meeting the expectations of his parents. On the other hand, his failure may cause some psychological pain and anxiety.

Ala: Actually there is no money at home. We have to come and work here before we can send money back home… that money can make a lot of difference back there…

YOK: Will your parents be annoyed then if you don’t send money home?

Ala: Not annoyed but it will pain them, because their son is in Accra so they will think of me and pray for me, so if I am able to send them something they will be happy and think that I am doing well. If I don’t they will think that maybe I am a useless person who spends his money on the wrong things… [14 years, Off-loader]

Apparently, while not mandatory for him to remit, there was still an implied expectation on the part of his parents. There are hints of the family first in the way he anticipates his parents’ construction of his life in Accra, since his inability to remit may be construed as a squandering of opportunities. Abebe’s (2013, p. 85) studies in rural Ethiopia showed similarly that many children worked because of their ‘feelings of responsibility’ or because they ‘did not want to be dependent’. Thus for Ala, there was solace in his parents’ implicit acceptance of what he was doing out of necessity thus giving credence to Verlet’s (2000) assertion, in “Growing up in Ghana”, that many children have been stepping in the shoes of weak or incompetent male family heads thus usurping their power and authority while boosting their personal claims to self-representation and authority as worthy members of their families.

The traditional provider status of a father suffers if he accepts money from a child he is expected to provide for and therefore contradicts his role as the head of the family. Whereas it is socially acceptable to use child labour in family occupations, for instance farming or herding cattle either as part of the processes of socialization or direct contribution to the family economy, it is illegal to use the same labour in some defined situations under the various ILO conventions. If it is illegal for children to chip stones or spend the whole day selling iced water instead of going to school, then it must be socially and culturally reprehensible for adults to benefit from such activities. While child labour may be appropriated indirectly to support the family (as is usually the case), a contradiction emerges when children earn money in their own right to sustain the family, particularly the father. It compromises the provider status of the father, undermines his paternal role as well as tests his moral authority in directing the affairs of the family. The underlying point here is the authority of the father in relation to the child, which under normal circumstances is supposed to be sacrosanct (Assimeng, 1999). However, in the face of economic and social difficulties, the economic value of some children as independent earners has become an irreversible fact of life because some parents are incapable of preserving the traditional distribution of power and the accompanying roles. In spite of the obvious however, it is still considered irresponsible and shameful by some parents and children themselves if economic roles are reversed this way. Tima (girl) notes:

I don’t think my parents need my money… They don’t want me to be here and will never take any money from me even if I gave it. My father in particular will be ashamed to ask me for money… I send money to my grandmother instead; she is old and cannot afford to refuse any help she gets.

YOK: Do you give them something else?

Tima: Sometimes I buy some simple things for my mother and even gave her some presents when I went home for the Islamic festival, but not my father… [female, 14-years old, chopbar worker]

In contrast to Ala, Tima’s parents were perhaps capable of backing up their objection to her presence in Accra through the deed of not accepting any money as ‘pacification’. The question of relative impoverishment is evident here since the degree of need may determine parents’ ability to maintain their status without compromising the distribution of power. The fact that Tima’s grandmother accepts her money on the other hand supports the relative need’s view, though the grandmother may have the same moral status in her life as the parents.

In order to deal with the cultural sensitivity of reversing caretaking roles, some children have devised various ways of making contributions to their parents. For instance, instead of sending cash, many send provisions and clothing. Others assume responsibilities for their younger siblings by paying their school fees, providing school uniforms and other materials. In this way, they relieve the father/mother of the direct responsibility and save them the task of finding scarce resources to meet those expectations. Most importantly, they circumvent the embarrassment some parents might feel in accepting money from their young children.

Dan: Yes, I buy provisions for them. I also buy clothing for my younger brothers; it saves them from having to wait to get one from them [parents]. Just last week I sent some provisions to them, it will help…[male, 14-years old off-loader]

Josh: I am pushing the truck so that I can get the money to enter a trade…still I send them things, I do… I buy soap and other provisions for them but I hardly send money…I also buy school uniforms and other school materials as a way of encouraging my brothers to stay in school… [14-year old truck pusher]

In view of the scarcity of money alluded to earlier for people to regularly purchase basic items, such ostensibly simple non-monetary contributions can prove to be crucial to the family. For instance, the indirect costs of education such as school uniforms, reading and writing materials may exclude some children from regularly attending school. Thus, Josh’s contribution is quite a significant one and as he himself indicates might motivate his brothers to remain in school. The significance in both extracts is that children are supporting their families in critical ways, through a mode of payment that will be less embarrassing for their parents. In return they may have greater respect or some amount of leeway or even uncontested rights to participate in decisions concerning them whenever they returned home.

Conclusion

Any thoughts on childhood evokes ideological differences that arise from politics that aim to respond to cultural and social expectations of particular geographic areas and policy directions driven by people who are usually far removed from the grassroots. On one hand, cultural diversity and for that matter differentiations in childhood are touted while on the other hand global notions steeped in the economic and social expectations of the developed world are positioned as the models to adopt. In many parts of the developing world, in this particular case Ghana, rights in the formal sense though codified into acts and policies is still seen as elitist, representative of the interest of others and in the majority of households difficult to implement let alone enforce. Nonetheless, as Balagopalan (2019, p. 4) suggests, it is inevitable that we think of “…children’s right within the everyday working out of culture, sociality and relationality…”

The presence of children on the streets of the major cities of Ghana, under whichever nomenclature, may be seen as a product of the times characterised by rapid urbanization, rising dysfunctionality in some homes, woeful economic conditions for increasing numbers of families, ubiquitous informality, among other factors. The trend as indicated by recent empirical studies is likely to continue (Department of Social Welfare et al. 2011); but while the foregoing factors may thrust some children onto the streets, others voluntarily decide to find a living on, or association with the streets. Evidence abounds of the consequences such sojourn on the streets may have for children, although useful skills such as “instrumental and symbolic competences” enhance their ability to work and earn incomes, as well as cope better with the stresses of the streets (Lucchini 1993 cited in Apterkar & Stoecklin, 2014, p. 14), and so may prove beneficial to their transition into adulthood. In any case, the relationship between children and parents assumes new dimensions once they get onto the streets.

We discern a clear case of children, especially the relatively older ones, exercising their agency and chipping away some of their parents’ power and authority to determine the course of their lives and those of others in the family. The growing importance of such responsibility in the family is a diminution of the representational status and some moral authority that comes naturally with parenthood. If some children can assume such critical roles in the families, then the traditional assumption of unqualified obedience may be undermined, for example, the parent’s entreaties to a street child to return home might be problematic and treated with less urgency and deference. It is therefore not surprising that many of the children disregarded or disobeyed instructions from parents to return home, thus claiming a right to a certain degree of self-determination. Ironically though, in cases where the provider role of the child is crucial to their survival, parents cannot afford to assert their authority in the usual paternalistic way when necessary. This might be productive for the child’s development if the parents have been abusive in the past. It might on the other hand amount to neglect of parental responsibilities in cases where parents decide to place the child’s remittances and contributions above their natural duties, for fear of alienating the child. It is known in this regard that children who work on the streets report improved relations with their family and tend to have more privileges than those who remain at home (Bar-on, 1997). The ostensible reason for this elevated status is that they perform viable socio-economic roles for the family and therefore must be rewarded with special treatment. Or rather, there is no motivation to bite the finger that feeds them.