Out of Africa

1pm in the Broadwater Farm Community Centre - a big gym-like hall complete with basketball hoops and there was only a smattering of people - and they were the security and bar staff.

Yet tonight the Congolese pop megastar, Koffi Olomidé, was billed to play. 'People will be here,' the barman promised. And he was right. At 1am, half an hour before Koffi took the stage, they arrived. In their thousands.

Many were dressed to the nines in white fur suits, snakeskin trousers and daring miniskirts to emphasise fulsome derrières. Which was apt, really, since Congolese Koffi's musical style is 'ndombolo'. In his native Lingala that means 'buttocks' and the crowd danced until dawn to his ass-shaking rumba with attitude, breaking only momentarily when someone let off a tear gas canister.

Such underground gigs happen quite regularly. They're off the beaten track and the advertising doesn't really reach the mainstream. It's all a far cry from the South Bank or Barbican. But there, too, African bands rock the house - albeit with a greater proportion of white faces in the audience. And when establishment venues designed for orchestras are putting on Afrobeat bands, you sense something is afoot. And it is.

From the Poetry Cafe where first generation Ghanaian poet Nii Ayikwei Parkes is in residency until September, to Nigerian-born JJC playing at Cargo in Hoxton, from the bright kente fabrics in Brixton's market to the array of African foods for sale on Ridley Road, Dalston, African culture penetrates London life and enriches the capital's cultural cache at every turn.

However, the continent's influence stretches back way beyond recent decades. Trade with West Africa in the 16th Century led to black servants and entertainers coming to London. But even with small numbers, racism raised its ugly head. Queen Elizabeth I issued a proclamation saying that she was 'highly discontented at the great numbers of negars and Blackamoores which are crept into this realm' and ordered their banishment.

The slave trade in the 18th and 19th centuries brought more Africans to Britain's shores. Some found their freedom and stayed and the 20th century saw West Africans, as well as West Indians, being encouraged to come to Britain and help the war effort in munitions factories for both the global conflicts. That, along with other political or economic reasons to leave Africa (Idi Amin in Uganda, war in Ethopia), as well as educational opportunities here, have all helped swell the numbers and diversity of African communities in London. Now there are Nigerians in Peckham, Ghanaians in Tottenham and Malians - and many more besides --scattered everywhere. In fact, Africa in London is almost as huge as the many-nation-strong continent itself.

But despite the diversity, there has been a tendency for some communities to be inward looking - a criticism borne out by Koffi's gig in Tottenham where the audience was almost exclusively French-speaking Congolese. While official and unofficial community groups exist in London and operate through email lists and websites (both formal and enthusiastically personal) to bring African people together without paying too much attention to borders, one establishment predates the internet in its attempts to unite the African nations in London: the Africa Centre.

Wala Danga, an ex-patriate Zimbabwean who has lived in London since 1974 has been instrumental in bringing people together. At his Limpopo club night which began in the mid eighties, he played African music from all over the continent. 'People do things in their own communities,' he says. 'We tried to open it up. The Africa Centre was the only place in London where you would find every African country represented." His club launched many famous African musicians in the UK, such as Baaba Maal and Angelique Kidjo, and started itself to transform the musical landscape in the capital. As Soul II Soul's Jazzy B memorably put it, the Africa Centre was, at that time, the centre of the world. And his sound system played there, too, shedding light for clubbing Londoners on new sounds and unfamiliar cultures.

One first generation Ghanaian who went to hear Soul II Soul was fashion designer Ozwald Boateng. He recognises how much London's African communities have grown since then. A Ghanaian radio station would have been unheard of 10 years ago, he says, but he found himself listening to one in the car recently. Talking about his own cultural roots he jokes, 'When I go abroad I'm English, when I go to Ghana I'm black English.' His new collection for Spring/Summer 2004 is called Ashanti Hip Hop and was inspired by a recent trip to the country of his roots. The clothes are a clash of Ghanaian colour and fabrics with hip-hop styles grafted to them and to which, he says, he has taken his own Savile Row approach. 'My heart,' he says, 'is with my cultural origins, but my home is here in London.'