Leading international galleries and cultural institutions have issued a joint statement condemning the alleged police brutality against the renowned artist and calling for an immediate, independent investigation.

Accra, Ghana / International – A coalition of prominent international arts institutions, galleries, and cultural organizations has issued a powerful joint statement condemning the alleged violent assault of Ghanaian artist Ibrahim Mahama by officers of the Ghana Police Service in Tamale on March 21, 2026, and demanding urgent accountability.

The statement, released on March 23, 2026, brings together some of the most influential names in the global art world, including White Cube, Apalazzo Gallery, the Savannah Center for Contemporary Art (SCCA Tamale), Red Clay, Nkrumah Voli-ni, blaxTARLINES KUMASI, the Foundation for Contemporary Art – Ghana, and Compound House Gallery.

Mahama, a globally respected contemporary artist who was named the number one figure on Art Review’s prestigious Power 100 list in 2025, was reportedly assaulted following a traffic incident in Tamale. According to accounts, police officers allegedly forced entry into his vehicle and physically assaulted him and members of his family. Mahama, who holds diplomatic status, has since cancelled all international lectures and exhibitions due to injuries sustained in the incident.

The joint statement describes the alleged actions as “a deeply troubling abuse of power and a serious violation of fundamental human rights.”

“That such violence was directed at a civilian, a respected cultural figure, and an individual holding diplomatic status raises urgent concerns about the conduct, discipline, and accountability mechanisms within law enforcement structures in Ghana,” the statement read.

While acknowledging that regional and national authorities have indicated that an investigation will be conducted, the signatories emphasized that “expressions of concern are insufficient without transparent, timely, and decisive action.”

The coalition issued three specific demands to the Government of Ghana:

– Initiate an immediate, independent, and transparent investigation into the assault on Ibrahim Mahama and all affected individuals.

– Publicly identify and hold accountable all officers involved, ensuring due legal process without interference.

– Provide full medical, legal, and institutional support to the victims of the attack.

The statement highlighted Mahama’s significance beyond his artistic practice, noting his role as a cultural leader and institution builder. He founded the Savannah Center for Contemporary Art (SCCA Tamale), Red Clay Studio, and Nkrumah Voli-ni — spaces described as “vital platforms for artistic research, education, and community engagement across West Africa.”

The Inspector-General of Police has since directed the Police Professional Standards Bureau (PPB) to investigate the allegations, but the international arts community insists that accountability must follow swiftly.

“We stand in solidarity with Ibrahim Mahama, his family, and all individuals who have suffered from similar abuses,” the statement concluded. “Accountability is not optional. It is essential.”

The signatories also called on international cultural institutions, human rights organizations, and public figures to endorse the statement and join the demand for justice.

The case has drawn global attention to police accountability in Ghana, with cultural leaders framing Mahama’s treatment as a bellwether for broader concerns about law enforcement conduct, the protection of civilians, and the state’s responsibility to safeguard its citizens — regardless of their public stature.

Long before the streets of coastal western Ghana burst into dancing and the steady pulse of drums, the Kundum Festival began as a quiet moment of discovery.

Among the Ahanta and Nzema people along Ghana’s Atlantic coast, Kundum is more than a celebration—it is a story passed down through generations, a reminder that festivals often begin with simple human encounters with the natural world.

Local tradition traces the origin of Kundum to a hunter from the Nzema area who made an unusual discovery while roaming the forest. One day, he came upon a strange plant whose pods produced a rhythmic sound when struck.

Curious, he plucked the pods and brought them back to his community. When people shook and struck them together, the sound was lively and compelling.

The community began to dance to the rhythm, and the pods became part of their musical expression. That sound, many believe, gave birth to the early form of Kundum.

From that moment, the rhythmic shaking of the pods—combined with drums, songs, and dance—grew into a communal ritual.

The festival gradually took on a deeper meaning among both the Ahanta and Nzema people who inhabit Ghana’s western coastline, particularly in towns such as Axim, Shama, and surrounding communities.

Over time, Kundum evolved into a seasonal celebration marking the end of the farming season and the beginning of a new cycle of life.

The name “Kundum” itself is often associated with the distinctive drum rhythms and movements that accompany the festival.

What began as a simple musical discovery eventually became a structured cultural event observed over several weeks. During this period, communities perform purification rites, honor ancestors, and reaffirm their bonds with the land and sea that sustain them.

Today, Kundum carries layers of meaning. For the Ahanta and Nzema people, it is both a thanksgiving and a time for reflection. Elders pour libations to remember ancestors, chiefs appear in colorful regalia, and families reunite in their hometowns.

The festival also acts as a social reset: old disputes are settled, friendships are renewed, and the community collectively prepares for the future.

One of the most striking moments during Kundum is the dancing. Groups move through the streets in coordinated steps, their bodies responding to deep drumbeats that echo through the coastal air.

The music is joyful but purposeful—every rhythm recalling the story of how sound first united the community.

For visitors, Kundum offers a window into the cultural heartbeat of Ghana’s western coast. Yet for the people who celebrate it, the festival is something far more personal.

It is a living memory—one that begins with a hunter, a forest plant, and a rhythm that refused to be forgotten.

Imagine a dying queen mother, a desperate kingdom, and a frantic search for a miracle. This is where the story of Ghana’s most beloved dance begins. It wasn’t in a rehearsal hall, but in the quiet depths of an Ashanti forest.

The year is lost to memory, but the tale remains. The Ashanti Kingdom’s Queen Mother, Abrewa Tutuwa, lay gravely ill.

Her healers had failed. In their desperation, the elders turned to the gods. The message was clear: find a live antelope, a creature of the wild, to be part of a sacred healing ritual.

The kingdom’s bravest warriors, the Asafo companies, were dispatched into the thick forest . For days, they searched with no luck.

Defeated and tired, they decided to turn back home. But on their return journey, something strange happened.

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They saw it—an antelope, moving through the undergrowth with a grace they had never witnessed.

It wasn’t just walking; it was performing. It dipped and swayed, its feet tracing patterns on the earth, its head turning with a quiet dignity.

The warriors froze. They watched, mesmerized, and began to quietly mimic the animal’s movements, committing them to memory.

When they finally arrived back in the village without the antelope, they didn’t come empty-handed. They brought something far more lasting: a dance.

In front of the anxious household, they re-enacted the antelope’s mesmerizing performance, a gift of movement to lift the queen mother’s spirit.

The elderly women of the village watched the warriors’ imitation and saw its beauty.

They took these raw, masculine movements, softened them, and gave them rhythm and expression. They perfected the steps, shaping them into the dance we now call Adowa—the Twi name for that very same royal antelope.

Today, Adowa has travelled far beyond that forest encounter. It has become the voice of the Akan people, speaking at funerals, festivals, and the durbar of chiefs.

But if you watch closely, you can still see its origins. When a dancer bends low, you see the antelope bowing its head. The subtle, fluttering gestures of a white handkerchief?

Perhaps an echo of an animal twitching an ear in the quiet bush. The flick of a foot, the proud arch of a neck—it is all there.

A living, breathing memory of a moment when nature taught us how to move, and a dying queen mother was gifted a dance that would outlive us all.