‘Biama,’ the youthful, joyful revolution in Ivory Coast gains traction thanks to TikTok
Born in the working-class neighborhoods of Abidjan and developed by children and teenagers, this dance has become a cultural phenomenon that blends art and social media, while creating connections between different generations
“I follow you on social media!”
This is what a waitress tells Ismael Mondesir Ouattara, alias Madouro, at a maquis (restaurant) in Youpougon, the most populous commune in Abidjan, Ivory Coast’s biggest city and former capital. With more than 119,000 followers, the 19-year-old is emerging as a TikTok star. In fact, he’s one of the leading exponents of a dance that’s sweeping the country: biama.
Its unique feature? The creators are children, and social media is their tool for spreading the word.
In the working-class neighborhoods of Gotham and Toit Rouge, there’s always something to celebrate: weddings, soccer games, or birthdays, where music and dance are always the focus. “In Gotham, everyone dances. Life is [full of] harmony and joy. That’s why I didn’t learn to dance; I was born dancing,” Madouro proudly asserts.
The word biama originates from Nouchi, the Ivorian dialect of French that adopts words from local languages or English. It was born in the 1970s, in Abidjan. And, while everyone has different definitions of this dance, it’s certainly one of the most-recognized artistic expressions among the population.
The dance reflects the youthful energy of those who practice it: impossible contortions and theatrical grimaces, with a dose of comedy and a level of physical control that typically only the most experienced dancers possess. “I hardly sleep [because I’m] thinking about my next [piece of] choreography… and when I see children performing my challenges, I’m filled with happiness,” Madouro notes. However, this art also fascinates adults. And these child and teenage artists have managed to gain the admiration of their elders. “People recognize me, greet me and I feel great pride, because we’ve established our work and that’s why they respect us,” the young man adds.
The mischievous brother of the coupé décalé
Léo Montaz, an anthropology researcher at the Free University of Brussels, has been studying Ivorian music for nearly seven years. “Biama is a variation of the coupé décalé, a musical movement that’s now important and lucrative: it was originally created in Paris by undocumented Ivorian migrant children,” he explains. However, the uniqueness of biama is that it cannot be understood without the influence of TikTok. “It’s the conjunction of a very local scene [on YouTube] and the virality and esthetics of TikTok, championed by some influencers,” Montaz points out.
Biama was born in 2017, but it went viral during the 2023 Africa Cup of Nations held in Ivory Coast. For the researcher, the genre carries a message that’s very successful among Ivorian youth: “The potential for children to become adults and the possibility of succeeding in life through art.” This idea, Montaz maintains, works well in “a society very marked by [the importance of] money and personal success.”
Biama has allowed children to live a double life: they’re students in the morning and TikTok stars in the afternoon. “It’s a movement made up of children having fun, while showing the world: just because I’m a child and come from a modest neighborhood doesn’t mean I can’t be someone,” Montaz explains. In a culture where age leads to greater respect, some of the movement’s older brothers dedicate their lives to guiding youngsters in their artistic careers, while instilling discipline and ensuring that they don’t fall into bad habits.
It’s a movement made up of children having fun, while showing the world: just because I’m a child and come from a modest neighborhood doesn’t mean I can’t be someoneLéo Montaz, anthropology researcher at the Free University of Brussels
“It’s good that children identify with the movement, because there’s nothing wrong with biama; they’re not kids who use drugs or do stupid things. [The movement is] a contract between their older siblings and them,” the anthropologist points out.
For Madouro, who’s always surrounded by teenagers of all ages, who dance with him and admire him, one thing is clear: he won’t accept just anyone on his team. And this isn’t only because he’s aware of the influence he has on his fans, but also because he values the work behind his successes. “If you want to dance on my team, you must meet certain criteria: [be] disciplined, go to school, respect your parents, be polite and diligent, and always stick to your work schedule. Anyone who doesn’t follow those rules can’t be with me,” he states emphatically.
Older brothers, a key element of social cohesion
Biama is a self-managed dynamic, in which the neighborhood’s older brothers play a fundamental role. Kevin Junior Koffee is one of them: also known as Goodofwar, he’s a 29-year-old influencer and cultural promoter. He has amassed a million followers, but doesn’t make any money. This is because — despite the network’s popularity — TikTok accounts can hardly be monetized in any African country.
Goodofwar has been organizing rehearsals every Wednesday and Saturday in the Toit Rouge neighborhood for over two years. Sometimes, there are up to 40 dancers. Combined with spectators and onlookers, a rehearsal becomes a spectacle where the best talents are polished from the tender age of four.
“We live our passion. If others appreciate it, we accept [their support]… but we don’t do this for money. We dance for popularity: we want to be international stars and [we want] people to recognize us for our positive influence,” he explains. Thus, the influence of older siblings is crucial: whoever is sponsored by one of them can boost their career, receive coaching, and gain fame. Many of the children don’t have cell phones, much less access to the adult world that could allow them to earn money from their art.
Little by little, the children of biama — called biamaseurs — are paid to dance at events or in music videos for famous artists. Thanks to this, several earn a bit of money to help their families. “Many mothers bless me because they have one less mouth to feed. This also empowers [the kids], as they have money for their small needs, which prevents them from taking things that don’t belong to them,” Goodofwar says.
Local talent with international aspirations
On a Wednesday afternoon, just over a tenth of a mile away from the rehearsals organized by Goodofwar, the starting gun fires. It marks the beginning of the weekly Biama Festival, which has been organized by Cheikh Mohamed and Sam Gbongue Diaz for the past six months. Both in their thirties, they fell in love with biama because their kids would go dancing at Gbongue’s bar — Cave GDS — in the heart of Toit Rouge. Soon, the number of spectators outgrew the bar and they embarked on the adventure of organizing a festival in the adjacent square. By August of this year, they already had hundreds of attendees and more than 845,000 followers on TikTok.
The festival has become a showcase for local talent in a more professional format, attracting artists who perform or record their music videos amid the crowd. The entry fee — between 1,500 and 2,000 CFA francs (approximately two to three dollars) — covers the rental of equipment and chairs, pays the artists, and also provides a living for other young people who get involved in making the event a success.
For Mohamed, the festival’s impact on the neighborhood has been notable. “Since the Biama [Festival] came into our lives, it started employing young people who, due to lack of opportunities, didn’t have jobs. So, kids who used to steal stuff no longer do stupid things, because they come here every week and earn a small salary,” he explains.
The children, and their older siblings, are clear that they don’t want anyone to interfere with their dreams of exporting their art to the five continents. This is so that “the whole world can get to know the intelligence and excellence that comes out of Africa,” in Madouro’s words. The artist, who embodies the dreams of all his followers, affirms that young people have only one aspiration, while the country has only one path forward. “I want us to develop with wisdom, without moments that traumatize us. I wish for the youth of my country to have peace, love and brotherhood.”
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