The arrival of civilization and western culture has made us to forget our cultural past. Our heritage has been lost and traded off for the western ways. Those cultural heritages which had delighted our fore-fathers are looked down upon by youths who regard these heritages as old-fashioned and anachronistic.I must confess that that I did share this opinion with my peers but I have to give it another thought when I was privileged to accompany my parents to our village to a witness a local festival.
The festival is usually celebrated every first Saturday of September in my village, Obong. Every year, the indigenes travel from far and near to convene at Obudu Market Square, the venue of the annual new yam festival. The origin of the festival goes as far back as when the first group of settlers fled to the plateau for safety and decided to dwell there. I can recollect vividly what my grandfather told me about the first festival when the settlers had their first new yam harvested. Tradition has it that the very first celebration was held at the summit of the Obudu plateau. The joy and happiness shared among the people was enough to pull the heavens down according to my grandfather. Ever since, the celebration has taken the same pattern.
Last year the new yam festival I witnessed began on Thursday. The day after that Thursday, all men in the village woke up early in the morning and left for their farms. They returned in the evening with their children carrying large tubers of yams on their heads. I joined the village children to carry the tubers which we dropped at the market square. In the evening, the men gathered after taking their bath to discuss over a gourd of freshly-tapped palm-wine. Their discussion took them into far night before they went to sleep in their various homes.
Very early the next day, the women started peeling the yams for cooking. They brought all ingredients together for the cooking while the young men prepared themselves to carry masquerades. The girls including myself were not allowed to cook but we helped the women in cooking the food. Saturday finally arrived and the festival was scheduled to begin at noon. As early as 7.00am on that day, the women were up again to add finishing touches to their cooking and finally they pounded the yams.
The real festival began with the arrival of ‘Usu’, the chief who was followed by the masquerades. The young girls including myself dressed beautifully with the ‘jigida’ beads around our waists. We danced to entertain the ‘Usu’ and his chiefs who occasionally waved their locally made fans. Then the food was served and there was more than enough to go round. Everybody ate to his or her satisfaction. Finally, after all the dancing, singing and eating, the festival came to an end in the early hours of Sunday morning.
