From market stall to runway: why Africa is side-eyeing Louis Vuitton’s 'Ghana Must Go' bag

If you grew up anywhere from Accra to Alexandra, you know this bag. Woven plastic. Red-white-blue checks.

Foldable enough to slip under a bed, expandable enough to pack an entire life.

In South Africa, it goes by a dozen names: Mashangane bag, Khonzekhaya, uMas’goduke, Mmalebogo bag, No Problem bag, but across West Africa, one name stuck hardest: Ghana Must Go.

That phrase carries weight. In 1983, hundreds of thousands of undocumented Ghanaians were abruptly expelled from Nigeria.

With hours to leave, families stuffed everything into these cheap market bags. The name “Ghana Must Go” was coined and has since become a shorthand term for both migration and resilience.

As cultural historian Dr Nana Osei Quarshie notes in "Africa Is a Country", “The bag is more than luggage. It’s a symbol of survival and displacement.”

Fast-forward to 2007. Louis Vuitton, under Marc Jacobs, unveils a plaid laundry tote as part of its Spring/Summer collection, a leather-braided, zip-topped “play on high and low” version of the humble market bag.

Original retail price: about $595 (R10,300). Today, resellers list it at $1,200 to $2,500. For a bag most South Africans still buy for under R100 at taxi ranks, it’s an eye-watering markup.

Long before the runways, the fabric had its own migration story. The red-white-blue nylon canvas was invented in Japan, exported to Taiwan, then Hong Kong, where tailor Lee Wah reportedly made the first bags in the 1960s.

Initially used for a construction-site shelter, it morphed into a cheap, durable carryall.

Across Africa, it picked up new names and meanings. In Namibia, Mwaudako signals someone has travelled for a funeral.

In Zambia, it’s the ukwa or sack bag. In Ghana, it’s Efiewura Sua Me, literally “help me carry my bag”,

These nicknames reveal more than humour; they hint at the anxieties and solidarities of migration.

When images of Louis Vuitton’s version resurfaced recently, African social media lit up. TikTok users compared home-language names.

Instagram comments ranged from satire to serious side-eye:

“These bags were stronger than many people’s relationships now.” @ibrahim_kaii

“I didn’t think my eyes would see gentrified Ghana Must Go.” @akon.salome

This story stands out because it blends outrage, respect and humour. People admire the craftsmanship, but they also notice a familiar pattern: luxury brands take ideas from African everyday life and sell them back at high prices.

Fashion scholar Dr Erica de Greef of the African Fashion Research Institute told "City Press" that such moments “open a debate about ownership, memory and power. Is it homage, or is it appropriation?”

Not the first time

Louis Vuitton’s “tribute” to African design didn’t end with plaid totes. In 2017, its menswear collection borrowed Basotho blanket motifs, maize cobs, giraffes, zigzags, and turned them into a R33 000 silk shirt.

Designer Marianne Fassler praised the sophistication, but admitted “the mountain of uninformed cultural appropriation bile” on Facebook reflected genuine hurt ("Sunday Times", 2017).

Here's the problem: global brands want the appeal of African style, but they rarely give credit or payment to the communities behind these designs.

Examples abound, such as the controversy over Maasai shuka fabric, often replicated without compensation to the Maasai people.

Another example involves the kente cloth, widely used in fashion yet often created without financial benefits to Ghanaian artisans. At the same time, many Africans can't afford the new versions of items inspired by their own daily lives.

Yet the bag's story isn't only about being copied. Many African designers are now reclaiming the print themselves. Contemporary labels from Accra to Johannesburg are turning the plaid into clothing, art, and high-end accessories that centre African narratives instead of erasing them.

For instance, South African designer Laduma Ngxokolo's brand, Maxhosa Africa, reinterprets traditional motifs in a modern context, drawing from cultural symbols.

Additionally, Nigerian brand A.A.K.S, founded by Akosua Afriyie-Kumi, incorporates these plaid patterns into handcrafted raffia bags, offering a fresh twist on the iconic motif.

As Lagos-based designer Papa Oppong told "Business of Fashion" (2023), "We’re not just responding to Western luxury. We’re asserting that our utilitarian objects are worthy of design innovation on our own terms."

Fashion is more than just fabric. It holds memories, politics, and dreams. The Ghana Must Go bag stands for migration, resilience, and creativity, showing how daily African life shapes global style. When a R100 bag turns into a $2,000 collector’s item without credit to its roots, people notice and speak out.

Whether you call it Mashangane, Khonzekhaya, uMas’goduke, or Ghana Must Go, this bag has travelled farther than most fashion trends. It started as shelter cloth, became a migrant’s lifeline, and is now a luxury accessory.