Ghana-born, Ghent-based musician and dancer Nana Osei Twum Barima appears to be a rather elusive sort. I’m intrigued by his story, pivoting from a career in the natural sciences towards playing the music of his forebears. I’m also curious to meet another Belgian arrival, with a shared West African background. I reach out to Barima’s team for an interview – not as simple a task as I assume. After a couple of weeks of misaligned diaries, I all but give up on the venture, when Nana confirms his availability at the eleventh hour. In his defence, he has legit reasons for being off the grid. More about that later.

On a typically overcast Belgian day in late summer, Nana joins me online to discuss his debut album, Journey to the Unknown. The centre piece of the record is the Seperewa – a harp-lute instrument traditional to Ghana.

What is his earliest memory of the Seperewa?

‘I saw it under my parents’ bed. That was the first time I touched it. Then growing up, we saw my uncle [musician and university professor, Osei Korankye] playing. He was touring the world all the time. My mum started playing also. In the evening she would sing ‒ praising and playing appellations to God’.

Was studying music something Nana’s parents imposed?

‘No, singing and playing wasn’t by force. In my family, everybody plays an instruments. Everybody. Not just my nuclear but also the extended family. I was first a percussionist and into drumming. Around the age of 13/14, I was already teaching at a Roman Catholic church. My grandmother was also teaching me to dance and sing. It was something normal in my family. It still is’.

When Nana eventually did turn his attention to the Seperewa, he went from being the butt of jokes at secondary school and university to seeing a revival of the instrument on campus.

‘People mocked me because when I dressed traditionally to play, I would dress like the kings – with the full cloth. They were like “You’re behaving like an old person”. They gave me so many names, I don’t remember some of them. But whilst going through all this, I didn’t give a damn because I knew where I was going’

In the end, Barima had the last laugh.

‘Guess what? During the four or five years I was [at university], the Seperewa ensemble [started by his uncle in 2012] extended from approximately 10-12 members to almost 50 students. In the past, members were few because at university, you tend to pursue more of the Western instruments than the traditional ones. They all go to learn violin, piano…They have this perception that it’s older people who play these [traditional] instruments. So when they saw what I was doing, it enticed them to come and learn the Seperewa’

Yet for a significant period, none of this was on the horizon for Nana.

Despite – or maybe because of – coming from a solid lineage of musicians, Barima nurtured aspirations of being a geological engineer instead. Was this a conscious effort to avoid music and strike his own path?

‘I don’t know if it was conscious or unconscious. Music was already part of our family’s daily activities. I didn’t know why I would want to pursue it as a profession’.

Nana also picked up on a certain snobbery towards the arts.

‘There are also the ways society has of respecting people when they have ‘good’ professions like being an engineer. Growing up they put this in your mind. You have to go to school and become someone ‘big’ in the future. Probably that’s the reason why I didn’t think of pursuing music as a profession’.

The impetus for Barima’s eventual switch to music was dramatic to say the least.

‘I did not choose the Seperewa’ he says. It seemed that Nana could not outrun his destiny. ‘The instrument chose me’.

He elaborates, ‘Whilst studying science at high school, I dreamt of my great-grandfather who rediscovered the Seperewa. [In the dream], I was in a forest looking for a stick to make an instrument. My grandfather brought me a stick and said “This is the one you need”. When I woke up, that’s when I realised I want to play the instrument, and started really playing professionally. When I told my uncle I wanted to study music at university [the University of Education, Winneba, Ghana] – because he was already a lecturer there – he was happy. My grandmother looked at the sky and said “Now I can die in peace”.’

This was not mere overstatement. Nana’s grandmother and fellow musician, Abena Korankyewa, passed away not long after his fateful move to Belgium.

Prior to her passing, Nana had already decided it was necessary to leave his native land, if he were to have his own distinct musical legacy.

‘My uncle is still in Ghana. He’s known for the Seperewa instrument and he’s the main player of it. I just wanted a new world for myself to do my own thing, and also to connect with a different culture’.

Barima moved to Belgium in 2022. Why exactly did he choose that destination? With no familial roots in the Low Countries, wouldn’t it have been easier to go somewhere like the UK, where there’s a substantial Ghanaian population? Given the British colonial connection, he would have had a head start with the language…

‘That’s why the album is called Journey to the Unknown’ Nana shares ‘At first I tried the UK but my visa application was refused. I was then talking to my brother [based in the UK] and he said Belgium was a very nice country. I didn’t know so much about it. I mean, I’d heard of it. I searched on the internet. I remember I just looked at Ghent, Brussels and Leuven and I thought “It’s a nice country and they speak three languages”. I like languages so I’m like “Maybe I can learn something new”’

With no real connection to the country and very little resources, moving to Belgium was a complete leap of faith. Nana continues,

‘I got to the airport and because I didn’t know anybody, I just slept there for a day. The following day, I came to Brussels Central and was just walking around. Fortunately for me, I knew some friends from Spain so I contacted one of them. His ex was from Belgium. He told her [about Nana’s situation] and she posted on Instagram stories that I needed a place to sleep. Someone reached out to me and I went to stay there for two months. One of my aunties in the UK also knew someone in Ghent. After two months, that’s where I went to live and my musical journey [in Belgium] started there’

Amidst the challenges of migrating, Barima suffered a series of heartaches; namely the successive deaths of loved ones whilst so far from home. In addition to grieving his grandmother, Nana lost a number of friends around the same period.

Journey to the Unknown is thus somewhat characterised by the bereavements he suffered during the years prior. The single Moni is dedicated to Grandma Korankyewa and Nipa, one of Nana’s personal favourites, is a tribute to his father, whom he lost on New Year’s Day 2017. The song is informed by Barima’s regret that he didn’t always show his late father how much he cared whilst he was still alive.

Was Nana at all apprehensive about bearing so much of his soul on his debut? What was it like during the process of making the album?

‘I think every person [working on the album] would say it was quite challenging. First of all, it was my first album. There were a lot of challenges recording it…the timing. We got some stuff wrong. And also the story behind the album…it was like me writing a book and telling the world my story. You know, I was brought up to be very private…’

Tell me about it. It’s so cultural. Nana laughs.

‘I’m very careful with [doing] interviews, so yeah, I really had some hesitations but, I mean it is what it is. We’re artists, right? We cannot hide behind bars forever. Sharing your stories makes the album more original, and originality is key to being an artist. I just had to do it because I’m an artist, so I cannot live like a normal African’.

Apart from the ‘very, very personal’ Nipa, another song close to Nana’s heart is Message to My Ancestors.

‘I was going through a lot in Belgium and it was making me want to go back to Ghana’ he recounts ‘Things were becoming more difficult every day. At a point, I was moving from being a kid to becoming a man, so the transition was very hard. We are taught not to really express our feelings, so I had to endure a lot as a man. That’s why I was asking my ancestors “Is this really the life you guys were talking about? Because it’s harder than we thought. I have worked, I have done my best but it’s still not enough”. We thought growing up would be much easier. You have your independence, your freedom to do whatever you want but the more you grow, the more you realise, adulthood is like a scam for some of us’.

A bemused Nana further reflects on some of his childish ambitions, like eating what he wants when he wants.

‘Growing up, you cannot do everything you want to do. There’s a lot of burden. There are people waiting on you and relying on you. You don’t even think about yourself any more’.  Nana must presume everyone has such generosity of spirit.

Although it is a thoughtful record, Journey to the Unknown is not all solemn. Belgium and Rain for instance, is undeniably tongue-in-cheek. It features a gravelly spoken-word cameo from 81-year old Belgian Blues artist, Roland Van Campenhout, pondering the habitually dreary weather of his native – and Nana’s now adopted – home. ‘Belgium and rain, it’s like “Birthday and Cake”…’ goes the refrain.

Nana arrived in Brussels during the pouring rain, wearing a mere poncho. This rude awakening marked him.

‘After some years, when I was getting on my feet in Belgium, anytime it rained it reminded me of this initial experience. At first, it was a bit traumatic but later I psyched myself to embrace it and to love it. In Ghana, I liked the rain, so coming here, why should I hate it?’

Ah, yes but rain in a tropical climate is a different matter.

Barima concurs, ‘Yeah, exactly. Because it’s warm in Africa, it’s always nicer when it rains. In Ghana, I grew up as a farmer boy so when the rain pours on the leaves, you hear a certain sound. It plays a rhythm. Also, when it touches the earth, because it’s very dry, it gives off this particular aroma. Here in Belgium, everything is pavement, so you only smell spilled beer when it rains’, Nana chuckles.

Returning to Journey to the Unknown as a whole, what’s the reception been like to the album?

‘People love it because it’s personal’ Nana observes ‘Those who understand [Twi, in which much of the album is recorded], they reach out to me…I remember I sent it to a childhood friend. It was very emotional because he saw everything – my journey – from scratch. So yeah, the reactions have been positive’.

Speaking of the personal, it is also political, as the old feminist dictum goes. The track Until When is a critique of neocolonial exploitation through mining taking place in Nana’s native region. Some musicians are wary of making overtly political art. Did he have any qualms about tackling this subject head-on?

‘No, no. That would never happen’, Nana replies emphatically ‘I didn’t have any hesitation. I was excited to do it. I mean, these people are destroying our planet and my village. They’re putting the future generation in danger. Our children and grandchildren are going to go back to our villages and when they do, they’re going to die from all the pollution being created today. If people can hear us [protest through music] why wouldn’t I? I’m going to do even more when I have the chance. If I don’t talk about it today, I don’t know when. We have to talk about it’

Despite being in the bloom of youth himself, Nana’s sense of responsibility for future generations is a recurring theme. It extends beyond concerns about ecological degradation to include the preservation of culture and traditions, like playing the Seperewa. Barima describes himself as a cultural ambassador. What does that mean in his current Belgian context?

He responds with an illustration, still fresh in his mind. ‘Very recently someone said to me, “The last time you performed you said you were going to take us on a trip to Ghana. The way you presented the music, I was imagining how Ghana would be like through your music, so now I want to go”. That’s why I like the ambassadorial title. Every artist is an ambassador to their country or culture’.

Now that he’s lived in Belgium for some years, does Nana see himself as having a hybrid cultural identity or does he still very much identify as Ghanaian?

‘That’s a good question. I am very fast at learning, so maybe unconsciously I’m heading towards the hybrid way. I speak Dutch; not so well but the basic things to get around’.

Nana holds the very constructive outlook that cultural adaptation is about selecting what’s positive from his new environment, rather than forsaking his heritage. ‘I’ve acquainted myself with the elements I think will help me here, like the language, the [Belgian] way of thinking, the [Belgian] way of doing things, such as their timekeeping. I’ve added that to my Ghanaian way of living, so yeah I think I’m on a hybrid road. I’m not there yet, I’m still learning’.

Looking ahead, Nana is already working on album number two, pencilled for a 2027 release.

‘There’s no time; the moment you have your “first born” you have to work on the second’, he quips. ‘That’s why my emails are very delayed because I’m mostly in the studio’.

Barima’s sophomore will see a slight shift in musical direction. ‘I’m blending Hi-Life with the Seperewa. I’m looking forward to that’

Nana and his team plan for the second album to be accompanied by his first proper international tour. Will there be some Ghana dates on the schedule?

‘Yes, that’s definitely the dream – to go back to the homeland and to showcase to them what I’ve learned coming to Europe’.

Journey to the Unknown by Nana Osei Twum Barima – out now

This interview also features on Tola’s newly-launched Substack page.