Kissemah, near the University of Ghana in the hills above Accra, is classic village Africa, and the domain mainly of Ewé people from the neighbouring Republic of Togo. The Ewé immigrants have made a name for themselves in their adopted country as highly talented musicians.

A  dance rehearsal by the Kekeli Ensemble gets underway in the village hall . The practice performance begins with a solemn prayer circle, the performers crossing themselves respectfully, and dedicating themselves to the dance. But then the ritual takes a 180-degree turn, as the drums slowly build up to a crescendo invoking the ancestral spirits.

The dancers then take the stage, the girls making sweeping motions across the floor with traditional fetish instruments – in this case feather dusters made of chicken plumes and horse-tails. Then, as though calling forth life from its very earth-stuff, the dance becomes a series of intricate stomping movements. At the same time the men spear the ether in wild thrusts with wooden swords, each in the form of a cross with one arm missing.

This is riveting stuff! In a performance that seems to awaken the entire African savannah, the Kekeli drummers provide the script for a dance that seems to weave a whole new universe into existence. 

But then, Ghana is different. It’s peak hour in downtown Accra, the Ghanaian capital. Despite the temporary gridlock at Nkrumah Circle there is no road rage and no uncool, and an unearthly feeling of calm prevails. On the footpath, pedestrians are politeness personified, excusing themselves as they pass. No one hassles the visitor, there are very few beggars is to be seen, and not a soul is poorly-dressed.

Nonetheless, this IS still West Africa. There is still dirt. The equator still equates, making day and night seamlessly steamy. And everywhere can be heard the pulsating, happy beat of Afro music, from shop-fronts, balcony bands and a million car stereos.

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