North Sight Images - Bolgatanga, Tindonsobligo (2026)

01/03/2026

Cheers!

06/02/2026

Of Fugu, Zambian 'Blouse' Mischaracterisation and Ghanaian Heritage

If you have been on social media in the past 48–72 hours, you have likely seen many Ghanaians proudly sharing photos of themselves in fugu. Some captions celebrate Ghanaian identity; others respond, sometimes humorously, to the recent mischaracterisation of fugu as merely a “blouse.”

But fugu is far more than clothing.

Traditionally, it is not simply everyday wear. It represents heritage, ancestry, belief systems, protection, and identity. In many contexts, it carries spiritual and cultural meaning — a garment through which history is worn, not just displayed.

As a photographer, I have had the rare honour of documenting fugu in its many expressions — ceremonial, symbolic, and contemporary. Each setting reveals a different layer of its significance.

Beyond the social media trend, this moment is a reminder: culture must be understood before it is described.

Enjoy these images. And if you can, own a fugu — whether a traditionally fortified one or a simpler version for daily wear.

Wear it with pride.

24/01/2026

The Flow State

Have you watched the F1 movie with Brad Pitt? If you haven’t, you should. It’s not just about racing.

Throughout the film, Pitt’s character, Sonny Hayes, is repeatedly asked why he would return to Formula 1 racing after three decades and a career-ending injury. What could possibly be worth risking everything again?

When Kerry Condon’s character, Kate McKenna, presses him — “If not for money, then why F1?” — Sonny answers with quiet certainty: he is chasing a feeling. A moment when he is so in sync with his car, the track, and himself that it feels like he is not driving — he is flying.

The flow state, they call it.

Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi popularized the concept, describing it as a state of deep absorption where action and awareness merge, time fades, and a person becomes fully immersed in what they are doing.

But flow isn’t only found at 300 kilometers per hour on a Formula 1 track.

I think we have all “flown” in our own worlds before.

Here’s what I mean.

At Dunseema, during a festival, children were swimming as part of the day’s activities. Around them was the usual festival chaos — laughter, conversations, movement, noise. People drifted between events, distracted by one thing after another.

And then there was him — the man captured in the photograph.

No conversations. No wandering eyes. No shifting attention. Just stillness and total concentration. His world had narrowed to the water before him — the splashing, the race, the question of who would emerge the winner. Everything else had dissolved.

In that moment, he was exactly where Sonny Hayes is on the track — fully present, fully absorbed, fully alive.

Flow is not about fame, money, or grand stages. It is about those rare moments when the mind stops scattering itself across the world and settles completely into one thing. A child watching a race. A tailor bent over fabric. A farmer planting before the rains. A journalist chasing the right words.

We may not call it flying.

But we know the feeling.

And maybe, like Sonny Hayes, we keep returning to the things we love — not because they are easy, or safe, or profitable — but because, every once in a while, they let us soar.

21/01/2026

I recently learned that Dunseema means cowboy.

Years ago, a group of young people decided to turn their shared experiences and fond memories of herding cattle—something many people I’ve spoken to say they did, even if only briefly—into the foundation of a festival.

Not a festival in the usual sense, where people wait for traditional leaders to sit in state before activities begin. But a festival in the truest sense of the word: many activities happening at once, within a shared time and space, rooted in lived experience.

Dunseema—Cowboys—became a platform to reclaim and celebrate cultural practices that were slowly being lost. It brings together traditional and cultural performances, women-led dances, war dances, soothsaying, and storytelling that honours ancestral wisdom and identity. One of the major highlights is the wrestling competition—raw, intense, and symbolic of strength, courage, and community pride. There is also music, calabash art, bow-and-arrow displays, and communal feasting.

This year, I had the opportunity to experience the festival firsthand. Although I couldn’t stay for the full 24 hours, the time I spent there was deeply fulfilling.

I’ll share more about my experience—and the images I captured—in the coming days.

For now, here’s an ensemble that captures the life of a cowboy: a straw hat to shield against the harsh sun; a stick for prodding, reaching, and clearing the path; and a piece of traditional mud cloth—indigenous to parts of Africa and a powerful, sustainable fashion statement.

If you can, make time to experience Dunseema this year. It is something to see, feel, and remember.

20/01/2026

Content warning: Some viewers may find these images disturbing. Please proceed with discretion.

One of the most striking things about my travels across Ghana is how deeply diverse our traditions and customs are—especially when it comes to how chiefs are ushered to sit in state during festivals and major cultural events.

Across different parts of the country, the process varies widely. In some communities, it is marked by drumming and dancing; in others, the firing of muskets, warrior processions, or symbolic displays of strength and authority. In Kandiga, during the 2025 Dunseema Festival, the tradition involves the ritual slaughter of animals as part of the procession leading the chief to his seat.

I made inquiries about the significance of this practice and received varied explanations. Some say it is meant to spiritually “clear the path” for the traditional leader, while others explain it as a demonstration of strength, courage, and readiness to protect the people.

From an anthropological perspective, such practices—found in parts of northern Ghana and other traditional societies—are often linked to ideas of bravery, ritual purity, spiritual protection, and the affirmation of authority. They are symbolic acts rooted in history, belief systems, and identity, rather than spectacle.

Whatever the interpretation, these are traditions that communities hold dearly, passed down through generations as expressions of culture, leadership, and belonging.

These images were taken in Kandiga during the 2025 Dunseema Festival—a reminder of the richness and complexity of Ghana’s cultural heritage.

06/01/2026

Can you imagine a festival without music? I can’t either. Music is the heartbeat of our festivals — the rhythm that brings people together, carries our stories, and turns gatherings into unforgettable experiences.

This is a tribute to the flutists, drummers, vocalists, percussionists, and all the musicians whose craft transforms festivals into living, breathing expressions of culture through sound and dance.

These images were taken at the maiden edition of the Azukodaan Festival, celebrated by the people of Sirigu in the Upper East Region in honour of their founder, Azuko. A powerful reminder that culture lives not only in memory, but in every beat, note, and movement.

05/01/2026

A friend recently asked me, “Kwasi, did no women participate in the festivals you covered?”

They did. They absolutely did — and in the most spectacular way.

These images are from the Azukodaana Festival, celebrated by the people of Sirigu in Ghana’s Upper East Region. The women were not on the sidelines. They were at the heart of the celebration — leading dances, sustaining the rhythms and keeping traditions.

As a photographer and storyteller, it’s important for me to document culture fully and honestly — to show who shows up, who leads, and who keeps tradition alive. These moments are a reminder that culture is not complete without women, and any story that overlooks them is unfinished.

Here’s a glimpse into how the women of Sirigu showed up for Azukodaana — boldly, beautifully, and unapologetically.

04/01/2026

Recently on Facebook, I came across a post reflecting on Africa’s biggest exports. One line stood out: as a continent, one of our strongest exports should be our culture—yet we have not fully found the motivation or structure to intentionally brand and export it.

Interestingly, even before reading that post, a good friend of mine, Samuel Adagom, and I had been discussing a simple but powerful idea. We called it—tentatively—“December in Upper East.” The name can be refined, but the concept is clear.

Almost all major festivals in the Upper East Region are celebrated in December. So the question is: what stops the region from creating a coordinated festival itinerary for the entire month?
A well-curated calendar supported by compelling photos and videos, shared experiences, organized accommodation, food tastings, and cultural exhibitions.

Instead of visitors traveling up north to attend just one festival—or navigating disjointed cultural experiences—they could have access to a full December schedule of festivals across the region, allowing them to slow down, immerse themselves, and truly experience the culture.

If successfully implemented, the benefits would be enormous. Festivals are not just cultural expressions; they are economic ecosystems—supporting hospitality, transport, food vendors, artisans, performers, photographers, and local businesses.

Yet, for far too long, tourism and culture in the Upper East Region have been treated as an afterthought—lacking coordination, intentional branding, and long-term planning.

Culture and tradition are not side attractions. They are exports. And they deserve to be handled as such.

The images attached are from the maiden edition of the Azukodaana Festival in Sirigu, Kassena-Nankana West District. They capture dancers and participants celebrating identity, heritage, and community.

Enjoy—and perhaps, imagine what December in Upper East could become.

03/01/2026

Across many parts of Ghana, muskets are an integral part of festival culture. Their thunderous bursts often add to the already high energy of celebrations—sometimes making festivals louder, more chaotic, and even deafening. Shots go off in different directions, at unpredictable moments, turning sound into spectacle.

I remember vividly covering the burial of the Nandom Naa years ago as a young reporter. The musketry was intense. Amid the drumming and dancing, the constant firing became overwhelming. At one point, a fellow journalist had to be escorted away from the scene because the sensory overload was simply too much.

But my experiences in the Upper East Region tell a different story.

At least in the festivals I have attended here, muskets are present—but not fired. They are carried as part of the dance, held with pride, and treated as symbols rather than weapons. Their power is cultural, not explosive. They speak to history, identity, and tradition without putting ears—or lives—at risk.

The photos here were taken during the celebration of the 10th anniversary of the Sirigu Naba, Naba Atogumdeya Roland Akwara III, an event that also marked the maiden celebration of the Azuko Festival. The Azuko Festival honours Azuko, the founder of the Sirigu community.

01/01/2026

First, make a mental note of the Nike shoes — a very contemporary fashion item — worn as part of a traditional ensemble, not just to attend a festival, but to ride a horse and perform for a crowd. Hold that thought. We’ll come back to it.

I love photographing festivals, but the truth is, festival photography can be extremely chaotic. Too many moments. Too many stories unfolding at once. I shot this image at the maiden edition of the Azukodaana Festival in Sirigu, where I ran into a colleague photographer. We talked about one shared struggle: when everything is happening at the same time, if you’re not careful, you end up shooting almost nothing at all.

At its core, photography is supposed to be simple — finding one clear subject, one moment, one story. Ironically, that simplicity is what makes festival photography so difficult. In the middle of colour, movement, noise and emotion, the real challenge is stripping away the clutter and distractions to isolate a subject that truly stands out. It’s not about shooting everything; it’s about seeing clearly.

Yet there we were — two photographers openly admitting how hard it can be, but still showing up, cameras in hand, because we absolutely love what we do.

Just like the man on the horse. Horse riding alone is no easy task, talk less of performing tricks in front of a crowd. But there he was, dressed traditionally, wearing fancy Nike sneakers, doing his thing with confidence. And just like the brand’s famous tagline — *Just Do It* — he was doing it. And so were we.

Dem say life go whine you, but just do it, Charlie.

01/01/2026

First sunrise of 2026 ☀️

As the sun rises without fail each morning, may we also rise—steadfast, hopeful, and determined—in pursuit of our dreams and goals this new year.

May 2026 lead us to growth, purpose, and greatness.

📍 Tindonsobligo, Bolgatanga

01/12/2025

We have been away for a while, but we're back from our hiatus. Let's connect, let's get work done!

North Sight Images - Bolgatanga

01/03/2026

06/02/2026

24/01/2026

21/01/2026

20/01/2026

06/01/2026

05/01/2026

04/01/2026

03/01/2026

01/01/2026

01/01/2026

01/12/2025

Address

Telephone

Website

Alerts

Contact The Business

Shortcuts

Share