Ghana restores historical integrity: Kotoka Airport renamed Accra International Airport

 

Accra International Airport terminal view highlighting Ghana’s main gateway after its restored historic name.

Kotoka International Airport becomes Accra International Airport. Ghana’s decision to drop “Kotoka International Airport” and restore the name “Accra International Airport” was driven by a desire to remove the symbolic honor given to a military officer involved in the 1966 coup that overthrew President Kwame Nkrumah.

 

The move has reopened long-standing debates about Ghana’s political history, national identity, and how the country should remember its past. The Ghanaian government announced that the airport would revert to its earlier name, Accra International Airport, after nearly 60 years of being named after Lieutenant General Emmanuel Kwasi Kotoka.

 

Kotoka was one of the key figures in the 1966 coup that toppled Ghana’s first president, Kwame Nkrumah. Officials explained that restoring the original name was an effort to adopt a more neutral and nationally unifying identity, rather than continuing to honor a figure tied to a divisive chapter in the country’s political history.

 

Kotoka’s legacy has long been controversial. While some view him as part of a movement that redirected Ghana’s political trajectory, many others see the coup as a rupture that derailed Nkrumah’s ambitious Pan-African and developmental agenda.

 

The fact that Kotoka was later killed at the same airport during a counter‑coup attempt in 1967 only deepened the symbolic weight of the name. The renaming has sparked intense national debate, with opinions sharply divided.

 

Supporters argue that it is inappropriate for a major national gateway to honor a coup leader, especially on the 60th anniversary of the overthrow of Ghana’s founding president. They see the change as a step toward historical clarity and democratic values.

 

Critics, however, view the decision as politically motivated and unnecessary, claiming that the name “Kotoka International Airport” had become internationally recognized over decades. Some believe the move risks reopening old wounds rather than promoting unity.

 

Media coverage, including international outlets like the BBC, highlighted how the renaming revived discussions about Ghana’s political past and the long‑shadowed legacy of the 1966 coup. The airport was conceived, built, and inaugurated under the leadership of Kwame Nkrumah, the nation’s first president and the architect of Ghana’s modern infrastructure.

 

It is therefore difficult to understand why such a landmark, one that symbolizes national pride and progress, should bear the name of a man who helped overthrow the very leader responsible for its creation. Naming the airport after Lt. Gen. Emmanuel Kotoka simply because he was killed near the facility never made historical or moral sense.

 

Kotoka’s role in the 1966 coup placed Ghana on a turbulent political path, and honoring him on such a prominent national gateway has always been a point of discomfort for many Ghanaians. Restoring the original name corrects that contradiction and aligns the airport with the legacy of nation-building rather than the legacy of a military takeover.

 

For these reasons, the government’s decision resonates with those who believe national monuments should reflect unity, historical truth, and respect for the country’s foundational achievements. Reclaiming the name Accra International Airport is a meaningful step toward honoring Ghana’s rightful history.

The Aboriginal inventions that changed the world

 

Illustration of Aboriginal fire-stick farming: controlled burning of dry grass to regenerate land, with smoke rising gently and native plants sprouting, depicting traditional ecological knowledge used for sustainable land management.

Aboriginal Australians have formed the continent for over 65,000 years with knowledge systems so sophisticated that contemporary science is only now starting to comprehend them. Indigenous Australians created ecological practices, engineering techniques, and technologies that allowed life to persist in one of the most hostile places on Earth long before ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia, or the Maya rose to prominence.

 

Yet for centuries, these achievements were dismissed, ignored, or deliberately erased by colonial narratives that insisted Aboriginal people were “primitive.” Today, as researchers uncover the depth of Indigenous innovation, the world is finally recognizing what Aboriginal communities have always known: their ancestors were scientists, engineers, astronomers, and environmental managers of extraordinary sophistication.

 

One of the most remarkable Aboriginal inventions is the boomerang, a masterpiece of aerodynamics. While many cultures developed throwing sticks, only Aboriginal Australians engineered a returning flight path based on precise knowledge of lift, drag, and rotational force. The boomerang is not just a hunting tool; it is evidence of early mathematical thinking and experimentation.

 

Its design principles are now studied in physics classrooms and have influenced modern aircraft wing technology. Yet for generations, the boomerang was reduced to a novelty item, stripped of its scientific significance to fit colonial stereotypes. Equally groundbreaking is the Aboriginal system of fire‑stick farming, a controlled burning technique that shaped the Australian landscape for millennia.

 

By burning small, strategic areas at specific times of the year, Indigenous communities prevented catastrophic bushfires, encouraged new plant growth, and created habitats for animals. Modern fire ecologists now acknowledge that this method represents one of the world’s earliest forms of environmental engineering. Despite this, colonial authorities outlawed Indigenous burning practices for decades, contributing to the devastating fires Australia faces today. Only recently has the country begun to relearn what Aboriginal people never forgot.

 

Another astonishing example of Aboriginal innovation is the Brewarrina fish traps, known as Baiame’s Ngunnhu. These stone structures, estimated to be over 40,000 years old, form one of the oldest humans‑made constructions on Earth. Designed with an intricate network of channels and ponds, the traps allowed communities to catch fish sustainably without depleting the river ecosystem. Their engineering reflects a deep understanding of hydrodynamics and seasonal water flow.

 

Yet for much of Australia’s colonial history, these structures were dismissed as “natural formations,” a convenient lie that erased Indigenous ingenuity. Aboriginal astronomy is another field where ancient knowledge rivals, and sometimes surpasses, modern science. Indigenous star maps guided travel across vast distances, while constellations such as the Emu in the Sky were used to predict seasonal changes, animal behavior, and weather patterns.

 

 Some rock engravings even align with solar and lunar cycles in ways comparable to Stonehenge. This sophisticated celestial knowledge was ignored by early anthropologists who refused to believe that Indigenous people possessed scientific understanding. Today, astronomers are finally acknowledging that Aboriginal sky knowledge represents one of the world’s oldest continuous scientific traditions.

 

Why, then, were these achievements hidden for so long? The answer lies in the logic of colonization. To justify dispossession, European settlers needed to portray Aboriginal people as uncivilized and incapable of innovation. Recognizing Indigenous science would have undermined the myth of terra nullius, the false claim that Australia was an empty land without owners or knowledge systems.

 

As a result, Aboriginal inventions were trivialized, misattributed, or erased from textbooks, museums, and public consciousness. This historical distortion was not accidental; it was a deliberate strategy to legitimize occupation and silence Indigenous voices. Today, as Australia confronts its past, there is a growing movement to restore Aboriginal knowledge to its rightful place in global history.

 

Scientists, archaeologists, and educators are working alongside Indigenous communities to document technologies that have survived for tens of thousands of years. More importantly, Aboriginal people themselves are reclaiming their stories, teaching their languages, reviving cultural practices, and challenging the colonial narratives that once defined them. Their innovations are not relics of the past; they are living systems of knowledge that continue to shape the future.

 

The truth is undeniable: Aboriginal Australians changed the world. Their inventions reveal a civilization built on observation, experimentation, sustainability, and deep respect for the land. As this knowledge resurfaces, it forces Australia and the world to confront a long‑suppressed reality. The oldest living culture on Earth is also one of the most innovative, and its contribution deserves recognition, respect, and celebration.

 

The beauty of cultural diversity: Learning from each other

 

A diverse group of people from different cultural backgrounds sharing traditions, colors, and stories, symbolizing unity, respect, and the beauty of learning from one another.

Cultural diversity is one of humanity’s greatest treasures. Every community, every nation, and everyone carries a unique story shaped by centuries of experience, wisdom, struggle, and triumph. When we open ourselves to learning from one another, we discover that the world is far richer and more colorful than the small corner we grew up in.

 

Diversity is not a threat to identity; it is an expansion of it. It allows us to see life through different lenses, deepening our understanding of ourselves and others. Growing up in Africa, many of us spent our childhood reading European fairy tales, European history, and European children’s stories.

 

Our libraries were filled with books about kings and queens from distant lands, winter landscapes we had never seen, and characters whose lives were far removed from our own. These stories shaped our imagination and broadened our worldview.

 

Yet, when we look at Europe today, we notice something striking: European children rarely grow up reading African stories. They know Cinderella, Snow White, and Pinocchio, but very few know Anansi the Spider, Kweku Tsin, Yaa Asantewaa, or the epic of Sundiata Keita. This imbalance is not just about books; it reflects a deeper gap in cultural exchange.

 

When one culture learns about another, both sides grow. African children who read European stories gained exposure to new worlds, but European children who never encounter African stories miss the chance to understand a continent full of wisdom, creativity, and humanity.

 

African folktales teach courage, community, cleverness, and moral responsibility. They celebrate the power of storytelling as a tool for teaching values and preserving identity. These stories deserve to be shared globally, not confined to one continent.

 

Cultural diversity enriches societies in countless ways. It encourages curiosity instead of fear, empathy instead of judgment, and connection instead of division. When people from different backgrounds interact, they exchange ideas, traditions, and perspectives that can spark innovation and deepen mutual respect.

 

A multicultural society is like a garden filled with many flowers, each one beautiful on its own but breathtaking when seen together. Diversity teaches us that there is no single way to live, love, learn, or dream.

 

In today’s interconnected world, learning from each other is no longer optional; it is essential. Migration, travel, technology, and global communication have brought cultures closer than ever before.

 

However, closeness alone does not guarantee understanding. We must make the effort to listen, to read, to taste, to explore, and to appreciate the stories of others. When we do, we break down stereotypes and replace them with genuine knowledge. We discover that behind every culture is a human heart longing for dignity, belonging, and hope.

 

Europe has much to gain from embracing African stories, just as Africa has long embraced European ones. Sharing stories builds bridges. It helps children grow up with a broader sense of humanity. It teaches adults to respect differences rather than fear them.

 

Related post: The children’s story: Why Anansi the spider always hides at the corner

African folklore also offers powerful lessons about human behavior and wisdom. One example is the Anansi story I wrote years ago, ‘Why Anansi the Spider Always Hides at the Corner,’ which reflects the creativity and moral depth of traditional storytelling.

https://juskosave.blogspot.com/2010/10/childrens-story-why-anansi-spider.html

It reminds all of us that no culture is superior or inferior; each one is a vital thread in the fabric of our shared human story. Cultural diversity is not just about celebrating differences; it is about learning from them. It is about recognizing that every culture holds wisdom that can enrich our lives.

 

When we open our hearts to the stories of others, we become more compassionate, more informed, and more connected. In a world that often feels divided, cultural learning is one of the most powerful tools we have to build unity and understanding.

 

Humanity becomes stronger when we learn from each other, and the more we share our stories—African, European, Asian, American, and beyond—the more beautiful our world becomes.