Connect with us

Arts and GH Heritage

The Sacred Weight of the President’s Sword

Published

on

There is a moment during Ghana’s presidential inauguration that has nothing to do with ballot sheets, constitutional affidavits, or the usual political chatter.

It happens when the newly sworn-in commander-in-chief grasps the Sword of State. Time slows. The crowd falls silent. For a few seconds, a piece of metal speaks louder than any campaign promise.

On January 7, 2025, when John Dramani Mahama took his oath for the second time, that moment resonated with particular power.

This marked his third time holding the revered sword, a continuity that connects him not just to his previous tenure but to a lineage stretching back to independence.

But why all the fuss over a sword? In a modern republic, surrounded by iPhones and fighter jets, why does this ancient object still matter?

The answer lies in what the sword carries that no constitution can print.

The Weight That Words Cannot Carry

Ghana’s Sword of State is not a weapon. Crafted from solid gold and etched with symbols as old as the Asante Kingdom, it belongs to a family of ceremonial swords known as Akrafena—a name that implies soul, purity, and responsibility.

When a president holds it, they are not preparing for battle. They are submitting to something far more demanding.

The double-bladed design, rooted in the Afena-nta symbol, speaks of balance: war and peace, justice and mercy, strength and restraint.

These are not qualities you can legislate. They are qualities you must embody.

First held by Osagyefo Dr. Kwame Nkrumah in 1960, the sword has witnessed every chapter of Ghana’s Fourth Republic—the triumphs, the transitions, the peaceful handovers that much of the continent envies.

It has rested in the hands of Rawlings, Kufuor, Mills, Mahama, and Akufo-Addo. Each grip tells a story.

The Commander-in-Chief Paradox

Here is the twist most people miss: Most presidents are civilians. They have never commanded an army, never worn a uniform.

Yet the moment they take office, they become the commander-in-chief of the armed forces. The sword bridges that gap.

It transforms a politician into a protector. It signals to every soldier, sailor, and airperson that the person holding that blade now holds their loyalty—and their lives—in trust.

Read Also: When a Woman’s Dance Stopped a Giant: The True Story of the Fante’s Apatampa

When the president inspects the guard, it is the sword that confirms his authority to do so.

This is why the handing-over ceremony is so charged. In Kenya, where a similar tradition exists, the sword has only changed hands a handful of times since independence.

When Mwai Kibaki handed it to Uhuru Kenyatta in 2013, it was not just a transfer of office—it was a father’s legacy passing to a son through the gleam of polished steel.

A Global Language of Steel

Ghana is not alone in this dance between democracy and tradition. Across the Commonwealth, the ceremonial sword signals that power has shifted.

In the United States, George Washington himself wore a sword at his inauguration, following the fashion of European courts.

Thomas Jefferson later refused to wear one—too royal, he thought—but the symbolism persisted.

Even in diplomacy, swords speak. When the British raided the White House in 1814, stealing James Madison’s ceremonial sword was considered a devastating psychological blow.

When a foreign dignitary presents a sword as a gift—as Ghana’s ambassador did to President Gerald Ford in 1975—it is an offering of respect, courage, and brotherhood.

The Silent Guardian

So the next time you watch an inauguration and see that golden blade rise, do not dismiss it as theatre. That word is watching the president as much as the president is holding it.

It asks a silent question every single day: Will you be worthy of the weight?

For a moment, under the African sun, with millions watching and history holding its breath, the answer is still being written.

And that is why the sword must always be there—to remind the person holding it that some things are heavier than gold.

Arts and GH Heritage

Inside Togo’s Abandoned Colonial Building, African Artists Reclaim Cultural Memory

Published

on

By

A shared bowl of palm wine, a handful of kola nuts or a lively exchange between market traders can tell a story that words alone cannot capture.

In Atakpamé, Togo, artists Kojo Biney and Ray Agbo are exploring these everyday encounters as powerful expressions of African identity, using art to reconnect cultural memory with a complicated colonial past.

Their exhibition, Conversations: Symbolism and Lifestyle, forms part of the Karp Kamina Artists and Researchers Residency 2026.

Presented inside an abandoned German colonial building, the exhibition brings paintings and sculptures into dialogue with newspaper pages, creating an unusual encounter between personal memory, public history and contemporary African expression.

Reading the Symbols of Everyday Life

Atakpamé, known as the “city of seven hills”, sits within a cultural landscape shaped by Ana and Ewe-speaking communities. Here, social relationships are often expressed through gestures, shared rituals and objects whose significance extends beyond their practical use.

Biney and Agbo draw attention to these familiar practices, inviting audiences to recognise the cultural knowledge embedded in ordinary interactions.

Their work suggests that traditions survive not only through formal ceremonies or written records, but also through repeated acts of hospitality, negotiation and togetherness.

A Colonial Space, Reclaimed Through Art

The exhibition’s setting adds another dimension. A building associated with German colonial rule becomes a place where contemporary African artists examine the identities and relationships that history cannot fully contain.

The newspapers displayed alongside the artworks further complicate the encounter, prompting questions about whose stories are recorded and how collective memory is preserved.

Closing on October 16, 2026, the exhibition offers a timely reminder that heritage is not simply inherited; it is continually interpreted.

By transforming an abandoned building into a space for artistic exchange, Biney and Agbo invite visitors to see cultural memory as something communities can actively question, share and renew.

Continue Reading

Arts and GH Heritage

Karp Kamina: How Artists Are Giving a Forgotten Radio Site a New Voice

Published

on

By

An international residency in Togo is bringing history into conversation with contemporary art, inviting a new generation to rethink how cultural heritage is preserved and experienced.

The ruins of an old radio station might appear to belong to another time. At Karp Kamina in Togo, however, the past is finding new expression through music, dance, research and artistic experimentation.

On October 5, 2026, the Karp Artists and Researchers Residency opened with traditional music and dance, welcoming participants from Togo, Ghana, Benin, Norway and beyond for two weeks of creative exchange.

Their mission reaches beyond documenting history: it is about finding new ways to make that history matter today.

When History Becomes Creative Material

At the centre of the residency is Radio Kamina, whose history has shaped the site’s significance. Between 2016 and 2022, the programme concentrated on exploring more than a century of the station’s past.

The current initiative expands that work, inviting artists, academics, dancers, musicians and culinary practitioners to interpret the site through different creative disciplines.

The 2026 edition, themed Cultural Revitalization II: Reclaim • Reimagine • Revive, treats heritage as something that can evolve rather than remain confined to archives and physical remains.

Visits to historical and tourist sites around Karp Kamina provide further inspiration, connecting participants’ work to the surrounding cultural landscape and community.

A Shared Responsibility for Heritage

The residency also raises a question relevant across West Africa: who should shape the future of historic places?

Preservation requires more than artistic vision. Local residents, traditional leaders, public institutions and investors all have roles to play in ensuring that heritage initiatives benefit the communities connected to them.

With support from local authorities and other sponsors, the project hopes to strengthen Kamina’s artistic life and attract wider cultural and research interest.

For Ghanaian audiences familiar with ongoing efforts to preserve historic forts, palaces and traditional arts, the initiative offers a related lesson: history becomes more meaningful when communities can engage with it creatively.

At Karp Kamina, the past is not simply being remembered. It is being given room to speak again.

Continue Reading

Arts and GH Heritage

Zogbéadji opens Karp Kamina Residency 2026

Published

on

By

The 2026 edition of the Karp Kamina Artists and Researchers Residency began on a high note as the Zogbéadji Band, officially known as the Association Culturelle et Artistique Zogbéadji d’Atakpamé (ACAZOT), delivered a magnetic opening performance that transformed the gathering into a vibrant celebration of traditional music, dance, and cultural memory.

From the moment the drums began to speak, the atmosphere shifted. Drawing on years of discipline and experience, the performers unleashed a powerful blend of energetic dance and frenzied percussion that immediately captivated residents and participants.

Their performance was not merely entertainment; it felt like an encounter with a living cultural tradition, expressed through rhythm, movement, costume, and ritual.

At the heart of the presentation was the spectacular Tchébé dance, one of the most visually stunning traditional dance forms in the repertoire.

Perched on towering wooden stilts that can reach as high as six meters, the dancers performed daring acrobatics with extraordinary confidence and balance.

Their movements were at once graceful and ferocious, creating moments of genuine suspense as they seemed to defy both gravity and physical limits.

The soundscape was equally commanding. Led by Tsèviska Le Baobab, the ensemble generated an intense, ground-shaking pulse that seemed to travel through the audience’s bodies.

Among the instruments was the sacred Aran-Lakou, or grand talking tom-tom, whose deep, resonant voice holds significance in the local Ifè language and tradition. In the hands of experienced percussionists, the drum became more than an instrument; it became a vehicle for communication, ceremony, and collective memory.

Visually, the performers reinforced the music’s power with vibrant traditional costumes and fierce body paint, creating a striking spectacle that complemented the relentless rhythm of the drums.

A gentler counterpoint came from young kora player Marie Jo Atikpolater, whose soft, flowing melodies brought a moment of calm amid the intensity. Her playing showcased the evening’s remarkable range, moving seamlessly from explosive percussion to the kora’s delicate resonance.

As an opening statement for the Karp Kamina residency, the Zogbeadji Band offered more than a performance. It presented tradition as dynamic, physical, and enduring—capable of thrilling contemporary audiences while carrying a people’s memory and identity into the future.

Continue Reading

Trending