Music in Ghana

West Africa has long been one of my favourite places in the world. The food here is spicy and the music chilled. Ghana surprised me, from the minute I stepped off the plane. The people greeted me with smiles and jokes, kindness and a genuine type hospitality that comes from the heart. I have just finished a week's trip to Accra, on a visit that was originally planned as an end of year holiday, which quickly turned into a Keys of Change musical project and exploration of musical possibilities which, in the future, will hopefully involve young Ghanaians in music activities.

The music scene here is boiling, and the artistic talent abundant. I attended a concert of Ghanaian Afro pop singer Wiyaala, whose energy brought the house on fire, and I was mesmerised under the stars by the sounds of a local African jazz group Takeshi. I visited a gallery with works by local artists, many of which deserve to be admired internationally, and I was introduced to the intricate and elaborate art of coffin making. Articulate expression is everywhere, and the end of life Is celebrated equally loudly if you ever wanted to be buried in coffin in the shape of a shark, a lion, a watermelon or your favourite shoe, come to Ghana. 

Ghanaians are some of the warmest hearted people I have ever encountered, yet, according to local charities, just in the capital city Accra, children living in the streets, are in the hundreds of thousands. I visited one of the centres that provides critical support for street children, played music from the Nutcracker, and received Christmas carols in return from them. I then visited a children home outside Accra. I used to think of children homes as orphanages, but the reality is that the children living here do have families, but the trust is so completely broken, that they could never safely return to their parents or relatives.  

I strolled through a few of Accra’s the colourful markets in wet heat of December. If it can be sold, you will find it here. The locals are rowdy, curious and friendly, and they want to find out where visitors are coming from. I picked up a mango, which is in season, and felt the tropical aroma of West Africa in the centre of my palms. Then, when I visited a local church, and watched worshippers singing and dancing in their Sunday best, I remembered an African proverb: “Music speaks louder than words.”