A girl named Adisa walks through the charred remains of her village in the Sawla-Tuna-Kalba District of Ghana’s Savannah Region. The heat of the fire fused her doll’s head to its body. Her homecoming reflects the grim reality that awaits thousands of Ghanaians returning from exile, driven out by the deadly Gbeniyiri conflict.
Their journey back from Côte d’Ivoire was not a simple return but a painful pilgrimage to what was left of their lives. They are not just statistics in a government report; they are mothers, fathers, children, and elders grappling with the trauma of a conflict that destroyed their homes, livelihoods, and sense of security. While the government celebrates their return, a question lingers: what awaits them in the ruins? And for the 5,000 who remain in refuge, what will it take to convince them to come home?
This is the untold story of the Gbeniyiri crisis—a story of resilience, deep-seated fear, and the long, arduous road to true peace.
The genesis of a crisis
The Gbeniyiri conflict, a name now synonymous with tragedy in northern Ghana, began with a fundamental betrayal of trust. A local chief sold ancestral land to a private developer without the consensus of the broader community. This unilateral act, a violation of traditional land governance, ignited simmering tensions between the Gonja and Lobi ethnic groups.
The clashes claimed 31 lives, left 18 injured, and displaced nearly 50,000 people internally. At its peak, the violence forced 13,000 Ghanaians to seek refuge in neighbouring Côte d’Ivoire. The devastation—including destroyed homes and farms—underscores how a single land dispute can unravel an entire community.
A strategic region awaits its people
The Gbeniyiri area, located in the Sawla-Tuna-Kalba District of the Savannah Region, is a vital part of Ghana’s agricultural backbone. The region is the country’s largest and a key producer of yams and other tubers, critical for local food security and the national economy.
The conflict and mass displacement crippled agricultural output, creating an economic void. Foreign Affairs Minister Samuel Okudzeto Ablakwa’s mission to facilitate the refugees’ return is therefore not only humanitarian but also strategic. Restoring stability and resettling citizens on the land is essential for reviving the local economy and securing Ghana’s food supply chain.
According to an official statement, Mr Ablakwa affirmed that “the welfare and safety of all Ghanaians around the world will continue to be a priority for the Mahama Administration.”
The economics of displacement
The conflict’s impact extends far beyond the human toll. It has had a devastating economic effect on the Savannah Region. “We lost everything,” said one returning farmer, pointing to his barren field. “My yam farm, my cows, all gone. How do I start again?”
The loss of agricultural productivity, a cornerstone of the region’s economy, will have long-term consequences. A recent International Monetary Fund (IMF) analysis noted that intense conflicts can lower a country’s annual growth by an average of 2.5 percentage points.
While the Ghanaian government has provided a cash donation of six million CFA francs (about GH₵109,700), this is widely seen as symbolic rather than a solution. Rebuilding homes and restoring livelihoods is expected to cost tens of millions of Ghana cedis—a burden the government cannot carry alone.
The logistical challenges of return
Beyond the emotional and economic burdens, the returning refugees face immediate logistical hurdles. The roads linking Vonkoro to affected communities are in poor condition, making journeys difficult and dangerous.
“We came back on foot and in crowded vehicles,” a young man explained. “There was no official transport for everyone. Many of our elders struggled.”
The lack of organised transport, combined with destroyed schools and health facilities, raises serious concerns about the sustainability of the return process. The government’s efforts must now pivot from a one-off appeal to a sustained resettlement programme with basic services and infrastructure.
A nation’s conflicting narratives
Mr Ablakwa’s recent mission to Vonkoro, Côte d’Ivoire, demonstrated the government’s commitment. However, while officials like Interior Minister Mubarak Mohammed Muntaka express confidence in “steady progress” and the return of “more than 65% of the people,” the reality on the ground is more complex.
“We came back, but to what?” asked a Gonja woman who lost her home. “My children ask me when we will have a new house. The government says we are safe, but we are still sleeping in makeshift shelters. Peace is not just the absence of fighting; it is having a place to call home and knowing you will not be attacked again.”
This fear explains why 5,000 refugees remain in Côte d’Ivoire. A Lobi elder in Vonkoro said: “We hear about new tensions. A few weeks ago, there were reports of arson attacks in Kalba. It shows the root cause has not been resolved. We cannot return until we are sure our lives will not be in danger again.”
The opposition New Patriotic Party (NPP) has also weighed in, stressing that the crisis has a governance dimension. A regional spokesperson said: “The government’s efforts are a good start, but they must be sustained. The land tenure system needs a complete overhaul to prevent future conflicts.”
The unseen wounds: a psychological crisis
The physical destruction of homes and property is visible, but the psychological trauma is less so. Refugees face a higher risk of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), anxiety, and depression. The World Health Organization (WHO) notes that refugees are more likely to suffer mental health conditions due to fear, loss, and cultural disruption.
Without dedicated mental health support, returnees risk a “second displacement”—an exile from their own well-being. With communities fractured, social support networks have also weakened, making recovery even harder.
Traditional leaders forge paths to peace
Traditional leaders have played a key role in mediation. The Yagbonwura, King and Overlord of the Gonja Kingdom, dedicated the 2025 Damba Festival to victims of the conflict and a recent helicopter crash.
“Our people are hurting,” the Yagbonwura said in a statement. “We must show them that peace is not just a promise, but a reality we are building together, chiefdom by chiefdom, village by village.”
Such gestures resonate deeply in communities that often look to traditional authority for stability in times of crisis.
A shared African story
The Gbeniyiri conflict mirrors other African crises where land disputes and ethnic tensions fuel displacement. In Nigeria, clashes between pastoralists and farmers have displaced thousands, while in the Democratic Republic of Congo, ethnic violence tied to resource competition has uprooted millions.
The Gbeniyiri crisis underscores the fragile balance between tradition, modern governance, and communal identity.
The long road to reconciliation
The successful return of 8,000 refugees shows the progress of peacebuilding, but reconciliation remains a long process. President John Mahama’s administration has deployed security forces and set up a mediation committee, but lasting peace requires addressing land governance and ethnic dialogue.
The government must not only ensure safety but also provide housing, food, and livelihoods. International organisations such as the International Red Cross (ICRC), UNHCR, and local NGOs must supplement these efforts with material aid and psychological support.
Until the remaining 5,000 feel secure enough to return, the scars of the Gbeniyiri conflict will remain—a painful reminder that although many have returned home, the journey to true peace is far from complete.
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