A 400-strong crowd gathered in Abidjan's Yopougon-Selmer neighbourhood to watch performers under 25 — some as young as five — transform a neighbourhood square into a dance arena, showcasing biama, a frenetic offshoot of coupé-décalé that's become emblematic of Ivorian pop culture's resurgence over the past decade.
The event got under way about six hours after its advertised midday start. Sauce Graine, a 15-year-old whose real name is Arnold and who began dancing to biama six years ago, said, "This [is a] small ceremony so that people can see the talent we have … a talent that God has given to each of us to share with the whole world." He added, "Since many people aren't very familiar with the dance yet, they think it's just a neighbourhood thing. All we have to do is create the dance so that more people can see it and love it."
The dancer, named after the Ivorian palm nut delicacy, competed in street dance battles set to biama, a type of percussive dance music popular across west Africa that originated in Côte d'Ivoire around the turn of the century. Audience members, some munching on skewered meat or drinking from beer bottles or plastic cups, periodically joined in as competitors showed intricate footwork and dramatic chest pops.
A New Generation's Cultural Expression
The genre exploded in popularity after the coronavirus pandemic as young people turned to TikTok to post and respond to dance challenges that fused acrobatics with goofiness that pushed bodies to their limits. Cédric Kouamé, a music producer and chief archivist at Baoulecore Archive Center in the Angrè district of Abidjan, said, "Biama is basically coupé-décalé 2.0, like at 200% speed." He added, "Like maïmouna, it comes from Yopougon. Most trends start [in] Yopougon. It is basically where a lot of artists started their career."
For decades, Yopougon has dictated the cultural zeitgeist of both Abidjan and Côte d'Ivoire. Stéphane Doukouré, better known as Douk Saga, grew up there before founding coupé-décalé with his Jet 7 crew after returning from Paris in the early 2000s. There, he had made a name for himself in a nightclub frequented by wealthy young partygoers by setting light to thousands of euros. Their genre championed the philosophy of sagacité, the shrewdness needed to outwit authority, alongside farotement, the flamboyant display of wealth. Its free-spending hedonism offered escapism from many Ivorians living through the country's civil war. Doukouré died from lung disease 20 years ago at the age of 32.
From Roukaskas to Biama
The genre was propelled to new heights by Ange Didier Houon, who was born in Yopougon to an icon of the Ivorian sound engineering industry. In his teens, his Lebanese friends gave him the stage name DJ Arafat, after the Palestinian political leader. One of his earliest breakthrough hits as a teenager was Jonathan in 2003, a homage to a DJ friend killed in a motorbike crash. Over time, he increased the tempo of his music to match the high-energy, acrobatic roukaskas routines devised by his dancers, drawing on traditional Ivorian dance.
Their feet shuffling quickly in lêkê, the ubiquitous Ivorian water-resistant plastic sandals, the dancers performing Arafat's roukaskas continued a long tradition of audience participation in Ivorian popular music. Arafat's following grew so large that fans referred to themselves as "the Chinese". After his death in another motorbike collision 7 years ago, many believed the genre, already showing signs of decline, was nearing its end.
Youth Culture Reclaims the Genre
Today, a new generation of artists is vying to be the next megastar of Ivorian pop. Among those hoisting the flag for maïmouna are Didi B, who has gained international recognition, and the more street-famous Himra. The rappers' rivalry entered a new phase last year when both filled stadiums just weeks apart in different parts of the country.
Biama remains the more popular of the two subgenres, particularly among children and young people, who proudly call themselves biamaseurs and eagerly accept dance challenges shared across social media. The popular dancer Kalomaman said, "Biama is, first of all, a dance for the immature."
Midway through the event in Yopougon, Kehou Mousso, a biama dancer and one of the genre's few female musicians, took to the stage to loud cheers. Wearing a waist-length orange wig and frilled green outfit, she and four of her dancers came as special guests. Known to her 2.6 million TikTok followers as the "queen of coupé-décalé", she said the frenetic biama choreography demands constant improvisation. "You have to be improvising every second," she said.
Some cultural observers in Côte d'Ivoire dismiss the genre as little more than "street music", but biamaseurs remain undeterred. Sauce Graine said, "People will love us. They will dance [and] little by little, they will spread the word through their social networks. Then it will take off."
Why This Matters:
Biama's rise illustrates how young people in working-class neighbourhoods like Yopougon are creating cultural movements that challenge elite dismissiveness and reclaim public space through art. The genre's explosion on TikTok after the pandemic shows how digital platforms can democratise cultural production, giving children as young as five a global audience without needing industry gatekeepers or commercial backing. The fact that performers waited six hours past the advertised start time and still drew 400 people speaks to the organic, community-driven nature of the movement — a grassroots cultural resurgence that doesn't depend on formal infrastructure. The presence of Kehou Mousso, one of the genre's few female musicians with 2.6 million TikTok followers, also signals how young women are carving out space in a male-dominated scene. When cultural elites dismiss biama as "street music", they're ignoring how previous generations of Ivorian pop — from coupé-décalé to roukaskas — also emerged from Yopougon's streets before reshaping the country's entire cultural landscape.