Y NGYE YENI Capturing the fine art of enjoyment in late 1980s Ghana by Saman Archive

Y�NGYE YENI

Adjoa Armah revels in the fine art of enjoyment in late-1980s Ghana, as documented by her ongoing project, Saman Archive

Words ADJOA ARMAH Photography PHOTOCITY STUDIO 116

The thing about Ghanaians is, from the day you are born, to the day you die, it’s a celebration. Every country has its own distinct celebration traditions, but Ghana, with its sometimes week-long burials, stands out for doing life right through to the end. If you’re really lucky, ten years after you pass, your loved ones will come together to mark your life once again. You don’t really stumble on an Akan funeral; before you see anything, you will hear the faint hum of the drums or sound system, a gentle noise that will grow into all consuming sound. Eventually, you’ll feel the bass of huge speakers — stacked in groups of four or six — in your bones, and know that you are part of this too.

Then come the mourners. A sea of bodies in red and black, maybe white, depending on who the deceased is and what is being marked. There will be wailing — sometimes not even from close family — that will stop you in your tracks. There will also be dancing and singing. Yes, there are hymns, but also songs of Chiefs and Queen Mothers, histories of the land and songs for lovers.

As much as celebration is about the drums, DJs, dance and drink, it is a thing to be seen. The Twi term for enjoyment, gye w’eni, literally translates as ‘to take one’s eye’.

Y ngye yeni

‘Let’s take our eyes’

Inhabitants of the former Gold Coast, rich in minerals and textiles, have never shied away from wearing wealth on our bodies. Beyond the traditional textiles and gold of royalty, showing out, coming well-dressed, matters. Anything else is tantamount to disrespect. To do life well-dressed is to do life well. Period. That does not mean being showy or extravagant, necessarily. Just come correct.

Y mb life

‘Let’s hit/kick life’ (to show out, come well-dressed)

For big life events, it’s not enough to cut your coat according to your size; you cut everyone else a coat too, so they can all be matching for your party. Give life something to talk about, not as an individual, but as a unit. Those with the means have a responsibility to provide for those without.

Enjoyment isn’t just for adults either. Celebrations are a generational affair. Growing up in a Ghanaian household outside the country, celebrations are the clearest frame for kids to understand what it means to be Ghanaian. The memory of a plate of jollof rice with chicken and salad, bottle of Supermalt in hand, Daddy Lumba’s Aben W ha* in the background, all the aunties and uncles adhering to the colour code, and probably several female cousins in huge party dresses they don’t want to be in, is seared into the minds of many of my generation who were kids the 1990s. From London to Toronto, Basel to New York City, it’s an almost identical picture. When all these diaspora kids descend on Ghana for the December festive season, Accra swells in size and becomes the party city. A backdrop for a relentless social calendar that includes everything from huge family functions to beach parties — naturally with all-white dress codes — and crowded clubs. If you just want to take it easy, Ghanaians are very good at slowing things down to a snail’s pace, too. One thing is for sure: come to Ghana and you will enjoy, whether you are in a big city like Accra or a village like Agbozume.

The images you see here were taken in Agbozume, in the Volta region, near the Ghana-Togo border between 1989 and 1991. They are part of Saman, a vast archive of photographic negatives I began collecting across Ghana in 2015, and which now forms part of my doctorial research. In the period before most of the neighbouring villages had access to a sound system, there was a monthly party thrown in a house, known as Offer Home, in Agbozume. Teenagers and 20-somethings from neighbouring villages would wear their trendiest clothes to hit Offer Home for a regular night of mischief, music and dance.

Lucky for me, there happened to be a photo studio next to Offer Home, and there was always someone on hand to document the enjoyment. Photocity would open as late as people wished to party, and according to one of the photographers, “That was a great time to take pictures. Young people don’t want to misbehave in front of their elders, but I was young then too. We really enjoyed.” Eventually more people got their own sound systems and there was less reason to come to Offer Home, so the parties — and others across the country like it — stopped, but the enjoyment didn’t. Travelling around Ghana to collect, I time my trips to coincide with festivals. Beyond the funerals, weddings, outdoorings, birthdays, the parties just-because, there are hundreds of local celebrations across the country and enjoyment to be had at every turn, a bass to be consumed by, something to catch your eye. *It’s lit here