How Fate put Me Perpetually as a Minority
….and How it Drives me to Be Better
(The Kasise Ricky Peprah story so far)
Dear Nyaaba
Life has a strange way of shaping us, placing us in circumstances that either break us or forge us into something greater. Fate has consistently put me in the position of a minority—not once, not twice, but at every significant juncture of my life. A Nankam in Navrongo. An Upper Easterner in Nandom.
A Northerner at the University of Ghana. An African abroad. These labels, though mere geographical and cultural distinctions to some, have shaped my experiences, challenged my identity, and most importantly, fueled my relentless pursuit of excellence.
A Nankam in Navrongo—Familiar Yet Different
Navrongo is home, yet even there, I have known what it means to be different. As a Nankam, I was always aware that my linguistic and cultural identity was not the dominant one. While my heritage was richly woven into the fabric of the Upper East Region, it was sometimes a quiet voice in a louder choir. But I never allowed that to make me invisible. Instead, I chose to make my presence meaningful. I studied harder, spoke with conviction, and earned my place through diligence and integrity. If I was to be a minority, then I would be the kind whose absence would be felt.
An Upper Easterner in Nandom—Surviving the Displacement
Moving to Nandom brought a new realization: even among Northerners, distinctions existed. A Nankani -speaking boy in a predominantly Dagaaba environment, I was an outsider once more. The easy camaraderie of shared experiences was replaced by the need to prove myself. I refused to let my origins limit me. I learned, I adapted, and I thrived. I absorbed the culture and language while holding firm to my own identity. I realized that being a minority is not about being less—it is about being distinct, about carrying something valuable that others may not yet see.
A Northerner at the University of Ghana—Redefining Expectations
At the University of Ghana, the divide between North and South was more than just geographical—it was historical, social, and deeply ingrained. The stereotypes were there, spoken or unspoken: the Northerner was supposed to be grateful for being in the university, not necessarily excelling in it. I rejected that notion outright. I was not just there to exist; I was there to lead, to challenge perceptions, to be the kind of Northerner who set standards rather than followed them. I worked harder than ever before, knowing that mediocrity would reinforce the stereotypes I sought to dismantle.
An African Abroad—Carrying the Continent on My Shoulders
Perhaps the greatest test of being a minority came when I stepped beyond Ghana’s borders. In the wider world, I was no longer just a Nankam, or an Upper Easterner, or a Northerner. I was now simply African—a label that carried centuries of history, prejudice, and expectation. Every interaction, every achievement, and every failure was no longer just mine. It was a reflection of my country, my people, my continent.
But rather than shrinking under that weight, I embraced it. I made sure to be the kind of African whose competence was unquestionable, whose intelligence was undeniable, and whose integrity was uncompromising. If I was going to be one of the few Africans in the room, then I would make sure I was an African who commanded respect.
Turning Minority Status into Strength
In every space where I have been a minority, I have learned that the best response is not resentment but excellence. I do not ask for acceptance; I earn it through hard work. I do not demand respect; I inspire it through my actions. Fate may have placed me in the margins, but I have refused to stay there. Instead, I have used every challenge as fuel, every doubt as motivation, and every obstacle as a stepping stone.
Being a minority has not been a curse—it has been my greatest blessing. It has forced me to be better, to rise above expectations, and to make sure that my presence is not just noticed but valued. And so, wherever fate places me next, I will carry the same lesson: I may be a minority, but I will never be insignificant.
Respectfully yours,
The Honourrebel Siriguboy
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