I still remember the first time I heard the Volta Region calling my name. It was a Thursday afternoon, and I was slumped in my chair, staring at the same four walls I’d been staring at for three years. My playlist was on shuffle, and a track by a Ghanaian gospel artist I’d never heard before came on — something about “mountains and valleys” and “the sound of many waters.” I didn’t pay much attention to the lyrics at first. But then I looked up the music video. It wasn’t shot in a studio. It was shot on a boat, gliding across a massive, shimmering lake, with green hills rising out of the mist. The singer was standing in a wooden choir, voices echoing off the water. I paused the video, zoomed in, and whispered to myself: “Where is that?”
That’s how I ended up in Ho, Volta Region, the following weekend. And let’s be honest — I wasn’t prepared for what I found.
Ho isn’t just a place on a map. It’s a vibe. It’s a sound. It’s a rhythm that hits you before you even step out of the car. And if you’re a music lover — or even just someone who appreciates a good beat, a heartfelt hymn, or a spontaneous dance-off — this weekend trip might just change your life. Here’s why.
The Soundtrack of the Volta Region Is Loud, Live, and Unapologetic
Most people think of Ho as the quiet capital of the Volta Region. They picture a sleepy administrative town with a few hotels and a lot of hills. And sure, that’s part of it. But what most travel guides don’t tell you is that the real heartbeat of Ho is its music scene. And I’m not just talking about the radio stations.
Walk through the central market on a Saturday morning. You’ll hear the borborbor drumming from a nearby church rehearsal bleeding into a street vendor’s Bluetooth speaker playing highlife. Then a taxi driver honks to the beat of an old Ewe folk tune. It’s layered, chaotic, and beautiful. I’ve found that Ho’s music isn’t something you listen to — it’s something you step into.
The Volta Region has a deep tradition of call-and-response singing, polyrhythmic drumming, and dance that feels like a conversation with the earth. If you’ve ever wanted to understand where Ghanaian gospel music gets its soul, this is ground zero. The churches here don’t just sing. They perform. They declare. They wail with joy.
Why You Need to Attend Church in Ho This Weekend (Even If You’re Not Religious)
Here’s where I might lose some of you. “Isak, I’m not a church person. Why would I spend my weekend in a pew?”
Fair question. But hear me out.
The best live music in the Volta Region happens inside a church. Not at a concert hall. Not at a bar. At church. I’m not exaggerating. I’ve attended services in Accra, Kumasi, and even abroad, but nothing — and I mean nothing — prepared me for the sonic experience of a Sunday morning in Ho.
The first time I walked into The Lord’s Pentecostal Church (a local favorite), I was hit by a wall of sound. A 40-person choir, a full band with electric guitars, a Hammond organ, three drum sets, and a congregation that sang like they were auditioning for heaven. The music wasn’t background noise — it was the main event. People danced in the aisles. Elders clapped with their whole bodies. Children ran around with tambourines. It felt less like a service and more like a festival.
But if you want the real hidden gem, you need to visit The Evangelical Presbyterian Church, Ho Bankoe. This is where the traditional Ewe hymns — called Havene — come alive. These songs are centuries old, passed down orally, and they hit different when sung in the original language. The harmonies are complex. The rhythms are off-kilter in a way that makes you want to move. And the emotional release? Let’s just say I shed a tear during “Midɔ Mawu” (We Praise God) and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
Here’s what most people miss: The church service in Ho isn’t just a religious obligation. It’s a masterclass in live performance. The choir directors are like conductors of an orchestra. The drummers play with precision that would impress any jazz drummer. And the congregation? They’re the audience that knows every lyric, every cue, every dance step. You don’t just watch — you participate.
The 3 Hidden Musical Gems in Ho You Can’t Miss This Weekend
Let’s get practical. You’re going to Ho this weekend. You’ve got two days. Here’s the secret itinerary that most tourists (and even some locals) don’t know about.
1. The Friday Night Borborbor Rehearsal at Any Local Church
Borborbor is the traditional dance music of the Ewe people. It’s fast, it’s joyful, and it’s contagious. Most churches in Ho hold open rehearsals on Friday evenings around 6 PM. You don’t need to be a member to attend. Just walk in, sit in the back, and watch the magic happen. I stumbled into one at Ho Central Assembly of God and ended up staying for three hours. The drummer was 70 years old and played like he was 20. The choir director taught me a few steps. I left sweaty, smiling, and culturally richer.2. The Saturday Morning Market Jam at Ho Market
Every Saturday, from 8 AM to noon, the main market becomes an impromptu music venue. There’s a group of elderly women who gather near the vegetable section and sing traditional work songs while they sort tomatoes. They don’t charge anything. They don’t have a stage. They just sing. I recorded a snippet on my phone and it’s still one of my most-played audio files. This is the raw, unfiltered sound of the Volta Region. No amplifiers. No Auto-Tune. Just voices and life.3. The Sunday Afternoon Choir Festival at The Lord’s Pentecostal Church
Not all churches have a choir festival every Sunday, but many rotate choirs from different branches. If you’re lucky, you’ll catch a mass choir event where four or five churches combine forces. Imagine 150 voices singing in perfect harmony, with a 20-piece band, in a hall with wooden pews and open windows. The acoustics are unreal. And the energy? You’ll feel it in your chest.
Why the Music in Ho Feels Different — The Secret Ingredient
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why the music in Ho hits me harder than other places. And I think I’ve cracked it.
It’s the mountains. Ho is surrounded by the Togo-Atakora mountain range. The hills create natural acoustics that make sound carry differently. When a choir sings in an open-air church or a community hall with windows, the sound bounces off the slopes. It’s not just loud — it’s present. You feel the bass in your bones and the harmonies in your ears.
But there’s another layer. The people here treat music as a communal act of survival. Historically, the Ewe people used music to communicate, to mourn, to celebrate, and to resist. When you hear a song in Ho, you’re hearing generations of history folded into a single melody. That’s not something you can fake. That’s not something you can replicate in a studio.
I remember talking to an elder named Papa Agbeko after a service. He was 82 years old and had been singing in the choir since he was 12. I asked him why the music felt so powerful. He looked at me, smiled, and said: “Because we don’t sing for applause. We sing because the song is already inside us.”
I haven’t been the same since.
The Weekend Itinerary That Will Change Your Relationship with Music
Okay, so you’re sold. You’re going to Ho this weekend. Here’s your exact game plan — optimized for maximum musical immersion.
Friday Evening:
- Arrive in Ho by 4 PM. Check into a guesthouse near the town center (I recommend Chances Hotel or Volta Hotel).
- 6 PM: Attend a borborbor rehearsal. Ask your hotel receptionist for the nearest church with a Friday night practice. They’ll know.
- 8 PM: Grab fufu and groundnut soup at a local chop bar. The music will still be playing in your head.
- 8 AM: Hit the Ho Market. Find the singing women near the vegetable section. Record discreetly. Tip them if you can.
- 11 AM: Visit the Volta Regional Museum for a quick dose of history. The exhibits on traditional Ewe instruments are eye-opening.
- 2 PM: Hike Mount Adaklu (just outside Ho). The view is worth the sweat, and you’ll hear children singing in the villages below.
- 7 PM: Visit a local spot called The Spot (yes, that’s the name) for live highlife music. It’s a small bar with a big sound.
- 8 AM: Attend service at The Lord’s Pentecostal Church or EP Church Ho Bankoe. Arrive early for a good seat. The choir starts warming up at 7:30 AM.
- 12 PM: Post-service, grab akple (banku’s cousin) with fried tilapia from a roadside vendor. The food tastes better when your ears are still ringing from the choir.
- 2 PM: Head home. But don’t be surprised if you start planning your next trip before you hit the Accra road.
The One Thing You’ll Take Home That You Can’t Buy
Let’s wrap this up with a truth bomb.
You can buy a drum. You can download gospel albums. You can even learn a few Ewe phrases. But what you’ll really take home from Ho is a new understanding of what music can be.
In the West, we consume music. We stream it, shuffle it, skip it. In Ho, they live it. Music isn’t a product — it’s a pulse. It’s the way people greet each other, the way they pray, the way they process grief and joy. When you stand in a church in Ho and feel 200 voices shake the air around you, you realize that you’ve been missing the point all along.
Music isn’t something you listen to. Music is something you become part of.
So go. Book the ticket. Pack light. Leave your expectations at home. And when you hear that first chord on Sunday morning, don’t just sit there — sing. Dance. Let the mountains carry your voice.
You’ll thank me later.