Key Moments

The Labour of Ghosts | Ibrahim Mahama | TEDxAccra

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Nonprofits & Activism7 min read26 min video
Oct 14, 2026|62 views|1
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TL;DR

Artist Ibrahim Mahama salvages colonial-era infrastructure slated for scrap, transforming them into cultural institutions to reclaim collective memory and labor. These 'ghosts of labor' challenge the exploitation embedded in these objects, offering new meaning for future generations.

Key Insights

1

The British built the Sekondi locomotive workshop in the early 20th century as the largest railway repair workshop in sub-Saharan Africa, specifically for colonial extraction.

2

Mahama salvaged half of the Abosso glass factory, which was the largest glass manufacturing company in sub-Saharan Africa and produced items like Fanta bottles and louver blades, after it was slated for scrap.

3

A bridge that was a residue of the colonial enterprise and used by millions was sold for scrap, but Mahama raised funds to buy it back, dismantle its 200,000 kg, and transport it to Tamale to rebuild as a cultural institution.

4

The work reclaims objects like a German train, originally used for transporting manganese, which was marked for scrap but is now an encounter between historical infrastructure and contemporary cultural spaces.

5

The Yellow Driver, a taxi driver, was so inspired by Red Clay that he crammed 15 children into a taxi meant for three to bring them to the cultural space, demonstrating an organic act of cultural transmission.

6

Mahama questions whether daily work contributes to freedom and justice, urging a continuous push for these ideals within a global context.

The haunting weight of colonial history in infrastructure

Ibrahim Mahama opens by reflecting on the enduring presence of history, particularly the colonial past, embedded within the infrastructures that surround us. He uses the example of the Sekondi locomotive workshop, built by the British in the early 20th century as the largest railway repair facility in sub-Saharan Africa, explicitly for colonial extraction. This sets a critical tone, questioning how objects born from exploitation can be reimagined. He draws a parallel to Arundhati Roy's quote that 'the dead are living and the living dead people pretending,' and a film where a murdered girl's ghost haunts her killers. Mahama applies this metaphor to Ghana's history and the broader colonial enterprise, asking what it means for generations to bear the 'weight of history' and the 'ghost of labor' inherent in these structures, much like the devastating rubber harvesting in the Congo under King Leopold, which resulted in over 20 million deaths.

Transforming symbols of extraction into gifts for the future

Mahama's artistic practice involves subverting and transforming objects initially built for colonial extraction. He contrasts the looting of artifacts, such as the Benin bronzes and the Golden Stool of the Ashanti Empire, with the potential to repurpose infrastructure. He notes how Queen Elizabeth and her husband inspected these colonial-era constructions, unaware that they might one day be recontextualized. The question of 'what does it mean to build?' becomes central to his artistic inquiry, shifting the focus from individual creation to labor, community, and the intergenerational transfer of memory. This involves looking back at traditional practices, like pottery making and local architecture by women over generations, and considering their significance in relation to history and labor, asking how their contributions can be recognized and sustained.

Reclaiming the discarded: The Abosso glass factory and the Elmina bridge

A significant part of Mahama's work involves rescuing materials and structures that have been deemed obsolete and marked for scrap by authorities. He recounts purchasing half of the Abosso glass factory, which was built between 1960-61 and was once the largest glass manufacturer in sub-Saharan Africa, producing everything from Fanta bottles to louver blades. The government's decision to sell the entire factory as scrap meant the loss of not only the physical structure but also its associated memories, photographs, and molds. Similarly, he intervened to save a bridge near Elmina Castle, a structure that had witnessed millions of crossings and was a 'residue of the whole colonial enterprise.' When the government decided to demolish it for scrap to build a new concrete bridge, Mahama raised funds to acquire it. The bridge, weighing 200,000 kilograms, was then painstakingly dismantled and transported to Tamale to be rebuilt as a cultural institution, a powerful act of reclamation.

The journey of the railway and the untold stories of labor

The Gold Coast railway, built with labor often sourced from Northern Nigeria and Sierra Leone, serves as another poignant example. Mahama highlights how the timber from these old railway lines, laden with memory, is often repurposed as firewood or used for cooking by local communities. He actively negotiates with community members to acquire these valuable historical remnants, recognizing their significance beyond mere fuel. These timbers are then transported to Tamale to be incorporated into new cultural spaces. The process is expensive and requires taking agency over collective memory, even when its value might not be immediately apparent to all. This act of transplanting these 'broken spines' of the railway is about enabling future generations to encounter history in a different, more tangible way, fostering imagination and a connection to the past.

Glass bottles with unfulfilled destinies and Ghana Airways

Mahama's commitment extends to objects with a specific, yet unfulfilled, purpose. He acquired 300,000 glass bottles from the Abosso factory that were produced but never used to contain beverages like Coke or Sprite. The challenge then became how to transport these bottles, each carrying the potential destiny of carrying a branded drink, and extract new meaning from them. This echoes the fate of Ghana Airways, whose planes were sold for scrap after the airline went bankrupt. Mahama collaborated with a car washing company to restore one of these planes, rebranding it as Ghana Airways, a symbolic act of reasserting national identity and memory against the backdrop of global aviation giants like Emirates, which began with just three planes.

From scrap to art: Trains, planes, and philosophical inquiries

The Red Clay project in Tamale features various salvaged elements, including airplanes and trains. One notable example is a train made in Essen, Germany, a city that was a former Nazi headquarters. These trains, originally used for colonial resource extraction like manganese, were marked for scrap. Mahama's artistic intervention recontextualizes these trains, positioning them as important entities carrying 'ghosts' and engaging with contemporary spaces, such as a mosque, prompting reflection on their historical journey and future presence. He also discusses the concept of archaeology not just as excavation but as deliberate burial, suggesting that by preserving these objects, future generations gain access to a denser understanding of history. The focus is on transferring this density across generations, allowing children to engage with these objects, expanding their world of imagination and providing opportunities for technological classes and workshops.

Democratizing culture and challenging Western institutional dominance

Mahama critiques the traditional archival model, which often focuses on paper, and argues that buildings and objects can also serve as archives. He discusses how much of the world's significant art ends up in Western institutions, often acquired during periods of colonial exploitation. He points to Picasso's inspiration from African carvings, which were then deemed 'primitive' by colonialists, and questions how contemporary artists can reclaim and redistribute these sensibilities. The contrast between the clean, accessible art spaces in London and the challenging journey to Red Clay in Tamale highlights the disparity in cultural access. He shares the inspiring story of school children running 20 kilometers to visit Red Clay, demonstrating a profound bravery and commitment to cultural engagement. This underscores his effort to democratize cultural access and ensure that art and history are not confined to elite spaces but are accessible and integrated into the lives of local communities, including the working class and children.

Freedom, justice, and the artist's role in collective memory

Mahama concludes by posing a crucial question: does one's work contribute to freedom and justice in the world? He connects this to historical struggles, referencing the French Revolution's motto of 'liberty, equality, fraternity,' and the ongoing fight for economic independence in Ghana. His artistic practice, centered on reclaiming and reinterpreting discarded colonial infrastructure, is presented as a continuous effort to grapple with these fundamental ideals. The 'Parliament of Ghosts' at Red Clay embodies this philosophical exploration, where the process of building becomes an active engagement with art and community. By centering the contributions of working-class individuals and children, Mahama aims to create a legacy that is not only about preserving the past but also about actively shaping a more just and equitable future, ensuring that the 'ghosts' of labor are acknowledged and their stories told.

Common Questions

Mahama uses 'the labor of ghosts' to describe how past labor, particularly that associated with colonial extraction and exploitation, continues to exert a weight and influence on the present. It refers to the lingering impact of historical actions and the need to acknowledge and recontextualize them.

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