Perspectives
Ghana collects half the blood it needs – digital approaches can improve that
Ghana collects only about half of the blood units it needs for its healthcare system, with the National Blood Service’s 2024 collection of 187,280 units falling far short of the World Health Organization’s recommended 308,000 units. This persistent shortfall affects emergency care, surgeries and maternal health, often forcing families to find donors at critical moments. This article by Michael Head, Honghui Shen and Markus Brede, highlights structural challenges such as inadequate collection infrastructure, heavy reliance on replacement donors (family and friends), and a lack of regular voluntary donors.

Michael Head, University of Southampton; Honghui Shen, University of Southampton, and Markus Brede, University of Southampton
It is late, the ward is crowded, and the clock is moving faster than everyone would like. A doctor has stabilised the patient as best they can, but one thing is missing – blood.
A relative is asked to “try somewhere else”, and within minutes, the family is on the phone, calling friends, contacting church groups, posting in WhatsApp chats, hoping that someone nearby is eligible, willing and able to reach the hospital in time.
In that moment, healthcare stops being only about medicine. It becomes about networks, trust and whether a lifesaving resource can be found quickly enough.
This is not an unusual drama in Ghana. It is a recurring reality, quietly shaping outcomes in emergencies, childbirth, surgery and severe illness. Ghana has made progress, but the gap between what is needed and what is available remains wide.
In 2024, Ghana’s National Blood Service collected 187,280 units of blood. This falls far short of the World Health Organization recommended annual stock requirement of 308,000 units. The consequences are tangible, including delays to surgery, difficult clinical decisions, and families carrying the burden of searching for blood at the worst possible time.
One way to gauge the scale is the “blood collection index”, defined as donations per 1,000 people. Ghana’s index increased from 5.9 in 2023 to 6.1 in 2024, but it remains well below the ten per 1,000 level that is often cited as a basic benchmark by the WHO.
The contrast is stark. The WHO’s global figures show an average (median) donation rate of 31.5 per 1,000 in high-income countries, compared with 6.6 per 1,000 in lower- and middle-income countries and 5.0 per 1,000 in low-income countries. Ghana is a low-income country, yet its donation level remains below average for this group of countries, underscoring a persistent gap between demand and supply.
Why does this matter so much? Because blood availability is not a niche issue. It underpins everyday healthcare and becomes decisive in emergencies.
Few examples are more urgent than childbirth. Postpartum haemorrhage (severe bleeding after delivery) can escalate rapidly, and survival often depends on timely transfusion.
In 2025, the WHO highlighted that bleeding following childbirth causes nearly 45,000 deaths globally each year. When anaemia is common, the danger increases further: women have less physiological “buffer” against blood loss.
Women who enter labour with severe anaemia have around seven times higher odds of dying or becoming critically ill from heavy bleeding after childbirth, compared to those with moderate anaemia. In plain terms, they start with less room for error, and without fast access to transfusion, things can spiral quickly.
So why is Ghana’s blood supply so difficult to secure? Part of the answer is structural. Blood services require investment in collection, testing, transport at the right temperature and distribution networks.
These systems must work reliably every day, not only during crises. Yet the demand is rising with population growth and expanding clinical services, while resources remain constrained. The result is a system that is often stretched, especially outside major urban centres.
Another part of the story is how donations are sourced. In many settings, a stable supply depends on a large base of regular voluntary donors. Ghana is still working towards that goal.
In 2024, voluntary donations nationwide decreased from 40% to 29%, even as regional blood centres saw some improvement. That matters because heavy reliance on replacement donors (family members or friends recruited at the point of need) creates unpredictability. Emergencies do not wait for someone to finish work, travel across town and pass eligibility screening.
Then there is trust. People don’t donate in a vacuum; they donate into a system they believe in.
In our ongoing national survey in Ghana on people’s blood donation experiences, trust is clearly concentrated in familiar and formal sources. Around nine in ten respondents report trust in requests coming from a family member or close friend, and similarly high trust in requests issued by an official hospital or clinic.
Trust drops as the source becomes more distant or less verifiable, with markedly higher scepticism towards non-hospital community donation groups and, most of all, unknown people.
Yet high trust in hospitals does not automatically translate into action. When people are unsure how blood is used, whether it reaches patients fairly, or whether it might be diverted or sold, willingness can stall.
Even when people want to help, uncertainty can lead to hesitation: “Will this really go where they say it will?” In a high-stakes context, doubt is costly.
This gap points to a transparency problem, where confidence depends not only on who makes the request, but also on whether the system can credibly show where the blood goes.
Finally, communication channels shape outcomes. When a hospital lacks a rapid, reliable way to reach suitable donors, it falls back on what is available: phone calls, personal networks and social media posts.
But social feeds are noisy, messages get buried, and not everyone has the same connectivity or social reach. The ability to mobilise donors becomes uneven, depending on who you know, where you live, and how quickly information travels.
None of this means Ghana lacks goodwill. In fact, the opposite is often true: communities respond generously when they understand a need and feel confident their help will make a difference. The challenge is that goodwill alone cannot compensate for gaps in infrastructure, coordination and trust.
Telling people to “donate more” is not a strategy if the system cannot consistently reach donors, support them and show them that their contribution mattered.
The solution?
What would meaningful progress look like? It starts with stronger hospital services and blood-bank capacity, so that safe collection, testing and storage can happen consistently.
Alongside that, Ghana needs a more organised digital way to mobilise donors: a channel that can reach the right people quickly, rather than relying on broad social media appeals that get buried, skimmed past, or spread too widely without finding eligible donors nearby.
A well-run system could also keep clear, traceable records for each donation and request, making it easier to show where blood goes and to coordinate fast, accountable responses when an emergency hits.
That is exactly the gap our research is tackling. We’re developing a hospital-linked digital platform designed for Ghana’s realities. Here, urgent requests can be sent quickly to nearby eligible donors through a trusted channel, with location-aware matching and follow-up rather than blanket posts. It also builds in transparent, auditable donation-to-use tracking, helping hospitals coordinate emergencies more efficiently while giving donors clearer reassurance about where their blood goes.
Because, in the end, the story of blood in Ghana is not only about shortages. It is about a simple question with life-or-death consequences: when someone is bleeding, will help arrive in time?
This article was commissioned in conjunction with Prototypes for Humanity, a global initiative that showcases and accelerates academic innovation to solve social and environmental challenges. The Conversation is the media partner of Prototypes for Humanity 2025.
Michael Head, Senior Research Fellow in Global Health, University of Southampton; Honghui Shen, PhD Candidate in Computer Science, University of Southampton, and Markus Brede, Associate Professor, Mathematical Modeling, Statistics and Data Science, University of Southampton
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Opinion
To the EU Ambassador: The Triple Wound of Silence
In this open letter to the European Union Ambassador to Ghana, policy analyst Seth Kwame Awuku condemns the EU’s abstention from UNGA Resolution A/80/L.48—a Ghana-led resolution naming the transatlantic slave trade a crime against humanity. Awuku argues that Europe’s silence, masked by legal technicalities, constitutes a moral evasion that wounds the possibility of true partnership.
To the EU Ambassador: The Triple Wound of Silence
By Seth Kwame Awuku
Ghana speaks from the depths of ancestral memory – will Europe answer with the poetry of conscience, or the cold prose of abstention?
To: His Excellency, Ambassador of the European Union to Ghana
Subject: Ghana’s Leadership on Reparative Justice and the EU’s Abstention on UNGA Resolution A/80/L.48
Your Excellency,
History does not forget. It merely waits – patient as the Atlantic, restless as the spirits of the Middle Passage – for the silenced to reclaim their voice.
On 25 March 2026, even as Ghana and the European Union formalized a new pact of cooperation, the United Nations became a theatre of reckoning. Ghana, carrying the scars and the soul of a continent, led Resolution A/80/L.48. It passed with 123 votes in favor, only three against, and 52 abstentions – the entire European Union among them.
The resolution does not invent new truths. It simply names what was long softened by euphemism: the transatlantic trafficking in human beings and the racialized chattel enslavement of millions as among the gravest crimes against humanity – a profound violation of jus cogens, those peremptory norms that no civilization may forever evade.
And yet Europe abstained.
How does one reconcile this? A Europe that adorns itself in the robes of enlightenment, human rights, and moral universality suddenly finds its voice faltering when confronted with the chains it once forged, the ships it once commanded, and the fortunes it once harvested from African blood and bone.
President John Dramani Mahama cut through the veils with piercing clarity:
“Truth begins with language. There was no such thing as a slave , there were human beings who were trafficked and enslaved.”
Foreign Minister Samuel Okudzeto Ablakwa reminded the world that this was no solitary lament, but the collective heartbeat of Africa.
The response was telling. The African Union and CARICOM stood united. Arab and Muslim-majority nations lent their voices. Even Russia added its weight. Most strikingly, the two most populous nations on earth – China and India – stood firmly in favor, joining the global majority that now numbers well over half of humanity.
Europe, meanwhile, retreated behind the familiar shield of legal technicalities – non-retroactivity, hierarchies of suffering, the comforting arithmetic of intertemporal law.
Yet some wounds run too deep for procedural salve. When millions were reduced to cargo across the bitter sea, when entire societies were bled to fuel another continent’s ascent, morality does not dissolve merely because the laws of that era looked the other way. Silence, in the face of such a triple wound – capture, crossing, and commodification – is not neutrality. It is an echo of the old evasion.
Ghana seeks no vengeance cloaked in justice. We extend an open hand: for honest dialogue on apology, for the restitution of stolen cultural souls, for guarantees that yesterday’s dehumanization finds no new masks in our time.
This is the triple heritage we bear: Africa’s ancient resilience, the open wound of yesterday, and the shared moral burden for tomorrow.
Your Excellency, true partnership between Europe and Africa cannot take root in the barren soil of selective amnesia. It must be nourished by truth, watered by memory, and protected by the courage to face history without flinching.
Will Europe persist in the comfort of abstention, or will it rise to the higher poetry of genuine engagement?
The eyes of Africa, the restless spirits of the ancestors, the billions represented by China and India, and generations yet unborn are watching.
The choice, as ever, rests with Europe.
Yours in the restless pursuit of a more honest humanity,
Seth K. Awuku.
About Seth K. Awuku
Policy analyst, writer, poet, and former immigration and refugee law practitioner in Canada; He writes on law, governance, diplomacy and international relations. He is Principal, Sovereign Advisory Ltd, Takoradi.
Email: sethawuku.sa@gmail.com
Tel: 0243022027
Opinion
Between Memory and Partnership: Ghana’s Moral Test on Reparatory Justice
In this thoughtful opinion piece, Seth Kwame Awuku reflects on Ghana’s leadership in the recent UN resolution declaring the transatlantic slave trade the gravest crime against humanity. He responds to Minority Leader Alexander Afenyo-Markin’s remarks highlighting African complicity in the trade, arguing that while internal agency must be acknowledged, it should not overshadow the industrial scale, systematic brutality, and long-term dehumanisation driven primarily by European powers.
Between Memory and Partnership: Ghana’s Moral Test on Reparatory Justice
By Seth Kwame Awuku
There are moments in a nation’s life that call less for outrage than for honest reflection.
The recent remarks by Minority Leader Alexander Afenyo-Markin on reparatory justice offer precisely such a moment. Measured in tone yet unflinching in substance, his intervention deserves careful consideration as Ghana weighs its relationship with history, memory, and international diplomacy.
In Parliament, Afenyo-Markin posed a pointed question: “Somebody parks a vessel at Cape Coast, and you go to the North, to Brong, Ashanti, Assin… [and apprehend the strongest among your own people]. Then, after 100 years, you say you should be compensated – who should compensate whom?” He added that “we maltreated our own and told the white man that he must also maltreat our own.”
The latter claim somewhat overstates the case – Ghanaians did not “tell” Europeans to maltreat their kin – but his broader point highlights an uncomfortable complexity: African agency and complicity in the capture and sale of fellow Africans. Acknowledging this reality does not negate the case for reparations, nor does it justify Western reluctance to confront their role.
However, overemphasizing internal complicity risks obscuring the scale and character of the transatlantic slave trade.
To his credit, Afenyo-Markin explicitly condemned “the inhumane treatment – the humiliation, injustice, marginalisation, and abuse of our ancestors who became victims of the slave trade.”
This tension, moral recognition without a corresponding commitment to meaningful redress, lies at the heart of the current debate, particularly in the wake of Ghana’s leadership at the United Nations.
Recognizing the transatlantic slave trade as a crime against humanity is, at its core, about establishing historical and moral truth. Yes, some African actors participated in the trade.
But the enterprise was externally driven, massively scaled, and ruthlessly industrialized by European powers. What began as localized capture and sale evolved into a vast system of chattel slavery, sustained by the horrors of the Middle Passage and generations of hereditary bondage. The vivid brutality portrayed in Roots, through the story of Kunta Kinte, stripped of name, culture, and dignity, captures not merely forced labor, but a deliberate and enduring project of dehumanization.
Ghana, as custodian of these painful memories, carries a unique symbolic weight. Its coastal slave forts- Cape Coast Castle, Elmina, and others- stand as solemn reminders of both unimaginable suffering and the uneasy partnerships that enabled it. Reparatory justice therefore demands moral consistency: does acknowledgment alone suffice, or must it extend to material and structural redress for the enduring legacies of slavery and colonialism?
The Minority Leader’s emphasis on practical national interests is understandable. Ghana must sustain strong diplomatic and economic partnerships with Western nations. Yet an overemphasis on African complicity can inadvertently weaken the moral claim, allowing historical accountability to give way to diplomatic convenience.
Serious advocates of reparatory justice do not deny African agency; rather, they situate it within its proper historical context. While some local actors profited from the sale of captives, it was Europe that industrialized the trade, accumulated immense wealth from it, and later entrenched colonial systems whose effects persist.
Ghana’s challenge, then, is to strike a careful balance: pragmatic diplomacy on one hand, and Pan-African ethical conviction on the other. This balance is most credible when grounded in historical clarity and moral courage, the kind embodied by thinkers such as Kwame Nkrumah and Ali Mazrui.
Ghana must now choose with clarity and conviction. Pragmatic partnerships need not come at the expense of historical justice. True leadership demands confronting the full truth of the slave trade, both the painful African role and the overwhelming European responsibility, without allowing discomfort to dilute moral purpose.
At this quiet crossroads, Ghana should lead not by equivocation, but by insisting that reparatory justice is not an act of charity, but a rightful claim grounded in truth, dignity, and the unfinished business of history. Only by upholding principle alongside partnership can we honour our ancestors and secure a future rooted in genuine equity.
About the Author
Seth Kwame Awuku is a Ghanaian writer and policy commentator with a background in law, political science, and international relations. He writes on governance, diplomacy, and questions of historical justice in Africa.
Principal, Sovereign Advisory Ltd
Takoradi, Ghana
Email: sethawuku.sa@gmail.com
Tel: +233 24 302 2027
Opinion
Why Ghanaian Officials Must Know About and Prepare for the Hidden Risks of a Mass Black American Return to Ghana
Ghana has, in recent years, positioned itself as a spiritual and cultural home for the global African diaspora. From the Year of Return to sustained “Beyond the Return” campaigns, the country has actively invited Black Americans and others in the diaspora to reconnect, invest, and, in some cases, resettle.
The vision is powerful: a historic reconnection, economic collaboration, and a reimagining of Pan-African unity. But if that return becomes mass and sustained, it will not unfold in a vacuum. It will bring with it a complex set of cultural, political, and economic tensions that—if unaddressed—could strain the very unity it seeks to build.
The question is not whether return is desirable. It is whether Ghana is prepared for the social consequences of return at scale.
Belonging vs Reality: Who Gets to Be “Home”?
At the heart of the return movement lies a deeply emotional idea: that Ghana is “home” for descendants of the transatlantic slave trade. Scholars in Diaspora Studies, including Paul Gilroy, have long described this as a form of symbolic belonging—rooted in history, identity, and shared ancestry.
But symbolic belonging does not always translate into lived belonging.
For many Ghanaians, “home” is not an abstract idea—it is a lived reality shaped by language, social norms, and everyday struggles. A large influx of returnees may therefore create friction around identity: Who is considered Ghanaian? Who has the right to shape its culture?
These tensions have surfaced in other return contexts across West Africa, where diaspora communities were at times viewed as culturally distant or economically privileged outsiders. In Liberia, a long-standing and rigid class structure between diasporans returning home and locals contributed in no small way to a debilitating civil war that the country is still reeling from. While the “return home” situations in Liberia were somewhat different from Ghana’s current situation, the same socioeconomic disparities that broke the country could happen here in Ghana.
If unmanaged, the emotional promise of “return” could give way to questions of legitimacy and belonging.
When Value Systems Collide
Perhaps the most sensitive fault line lies in values.
Many Black American returnees come from societies where liberal individual rights—particularly around gender, sexuality, and self-expression—are more publicly accepted. In contrast, Ghana’s social fabric is deeply influenced by religion and tradition
This disparity in values creates a potential clash not just of opinions, but of moral frameworks.
Debates around LGBTQ rights, for example, are not merely political in Ghana—they are often framed as spiritual and communal concerns. Public advocacy or visibility by returnees could therefore be interpreted not as personal expression, but as cultural imposition.
Philosopher Kwame Anthony Appiah has argued for a cosmopolitan approach that allows for moral dialogue across cultures. But dialogue requires mutual recognition. Without it, value differences can quickly harden into cultural conflict. Beyond simply informing diasporan returnees about the legal and social realities surrounding LGBTQ+ issues in Ghana, there must also be a deliberate effort to foster understanding of prevailing Ghanaian cultural norms—even as space remains for respectful dialogue and coexistence.
The Economics of Return: Opportunity or Displacement?
Return is not just cultural—it is economic.
Diaspora communities often arrive with stronger currencies, access to capital, and global networks. In cities like Accra, this can accelerate investment in real estate, hospitality, and the creative economy.
But economic inflows can also produce unintended consequences.
Urban scholars studying Gentrification warn that capital-driven development often raises property values, pricing out local residents. Already, parts of Accra have seen rising rents and the emergence of lifestyle enclaves catering to affluent newcomers.
At the same time, returnees may enter sectors—media, tech, tourism—where young Ghanaians are also seeking opportunity, creating perceptions of competition rather than collaboration.
If the benefits of return are not broadly distributed, economic optimism could quickly give way to resentment. This is the moment for the Parliament of Ghana to draft—or strengthen—legislation governing diaspora return, land access, and economic participation. Beyond lawmaking, sustained public engagement will be essential: structured forums, community workshops, and targeted media campaigns aimed at educating both returnees and local communities.
Politics and the Question of Influence
As return deepens, so too will questions of political voice.
Should returnees have voting rights? Should they influence public policy? How much say should non-resident or newly resident citizens have in shaping national debates?
These are not abstract questions. They sit at the intersection of sovereignty and identity, long examined within Political Sociology and Transnationalism. Man is a political animal!
A politically active diaspora can bring fresh ideas, advocacy, and global attention. But it can also trigger suspicion—particularly if local populations perceive external influence as overriding domestic priorities.
In a polarized global environment, even well-intentioned activism can be recast as interference. Ghana needs to tap into extant best practices and either adopt them or adapt them to the Ghanaian situation.
Class, Perception, and the Risk of Social Distance
Not all tensions are ideological. Some are simply about perception. Different forms of capital—economic, cultural, social—shape power and status.
Returnees may possess global cultural capital (education, accent, networks) that elevates their social standing, even when their actual wealth varies.
This can create social distance.
Exclusive neighborhoods, curated social spaces, and “diaspora bubbles” risk reinforcing a divide between locals and returnees. Over time, stereotypes can take hold on both sides—of entitlement, of exclusion, of misunderstanding.
And once social distance sets in, even minor disagreements can escalate into broader tensions.
Building Harmony Is Not Automatic
None of these tensions are inevitable. But neither are they imaginary.
If Ghana is to sustain a large-scale return movement, it must move beyond celebration to preparation.
That means:
– Structured cultural orientation for returnees
– Policies that encourage joint economic participation, not displacement
– Clear legal frameworks around rights and responsibilities
– Public dialogue platforms involving religious leaders, scholars, and civil society
– Media narratives that humanize both locals and returnees
Above all, it requires a shift in mindset: from assuming unity to actively building it.
A Shared Future, If Carefully Built
The return of the diaspora is one of the most compelling stories of the 21st century—a chance to reconnect history with possibility.
But unity cannot be based on sentiment alone.
It must be negotiated across differences in culture, values, and power. It must recognize that “home” is not just a place of origin, but a living society with its own rhythms and realities.
If Ghana can navigate these complexities, it has the opportunity to model a new kind of global belonging—one that is honest about its tensions, and deliberate about its harmony.
If not, the promise of return could become a source of division rather than renewal.
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