Our forebears were far more intelligent than we often give them credit for. Everything they did had a purpose. If we take the time to study our customs with patience and an open mind, the wisdom behind them becomes remarkably evident.
Unfortunately, many of us dismiss everything inherited from our ancestors as primitive, fetish, or idolatrous. Nothing could be further from the truth.
In November 2020, when my father was buried, the youths of 'Nde Ezi Anyi' ('Nde-Ebi, Ebem") erected the “Ulue Oʻboʻn” in front of his house and danced the Oʻboʻn dance continuously, day and night, for several days.
Representatives of the Presbyterian Church then came to advise us that unless the “Ulue Oʻboʻn” was removed, the church would not participate in my father’s burial. Their sole argument was that Oʻboʻn was “fetish” and did not glorify Jesus.
That position led to a robust intellectual exchange.
Ironically, every member of the delegation had himself been initiated into Oʻboʻn as a young boy When I asked each of them what exactly was fetish about Oʻboʻn, none could provide a clear or convincing answer. Instead, they merely repeated what they had been taught.
I then explained that what many dismiss as fetish are, in reality, carefully designed rites of passage intended to mould character, courage, responsibility, and community identity.
I began with the first rite of passage.
1. Aha Nnùnù
This ceremony was usually performed when a boy was about nine or ten years old. His task was to trap and capture a bird. Once successful, he would be escorted around the village by his brothers, cousins, and friends to visit both his paternal and maternal relatives — “ichi ujo”.
During this event, he led the procession himself, dancing at every stop at the relations house. After each dance, he would “ibhayi mbha”, narrating how he captured the bird—symbolically recounting how he got his “first head.” His relatives would celebrate him with gifts and money.
The celebration ended at his family compound. There, he would stand before his mother and “Koʻya Oʻnù”. Interestingly, the dirtier the “ikoʻ oʻnù”, the greater the excitement. His mother would then receive him with obvious pride and celebration.
Every aspect of this ceremony carried profound meaning.
The bird represented his first successful hunt. He was being introduced to the discipline and skills of hunting.
By leading the procession himself, he demonstrated that he knew his extended family and could independently find his way to every relative’s home. It reinforced his identity and sense of belonging within the wider community.
Through “ibhayi mbha”, he publicly took ownership of his achievement. He was learning accountability and confidence.
Finally, by “ikoʻ nmaya oʻnù”, he symbolically broke away from her apron strings. Traditionally, from that night onward, he no longer slept with his mother but moved to sleep with his father.
This marked his first rite of passage—the transition from childhood to young manhood.
2. Oʻboʻn
The second rite of passage usually took place between the ages of eleven and thirteen.
Before initiation, the boy would often be sent to retrieve a designated object from a lonely part of the village. Unknown to him, older youths would hide along the route and deliberately attempt to frighten him.
If he successfully completed the task and returned with the object, he was considered worthy of initiation.
He would then be introduced to some of the secrets of Oʻboʻn and required to swear a solemn oath never to reveal them, even under the threat of death. The warning was severe: should he betray those secrets, his stomach would swell until he died.
Of course, the real purpose was not superstition.
Sending him into the lonely bush—often under a full moon, where shadows could easily resemble terrifying spirits—was a carefully designed test of courage, composure, and resourcefulness. He was being taught to confront fear rather than surrender to it.
The oath of secrecy served another important purpose. He was learning discretion—the discipline of knowing when to speak and when to remain silent.
As the Ohafia proverb says:
“Oʻwùgi ife dum ifù wù ife ị ya edho' (Not everything you see is meant to be spoken.)
That was the deeper lesson.
Oʻboʻn was, therefore, not simply a dance or a secret society. It was a structured institution for developing brave, disciplined, trustworthy young men who could shoulder responsibility within the community.
This was the second rite of passage.
And of course (for the curious ones), the “Ulue oʻboʻn” was not removed, and the Church was involved in burying him. Maybe because I told them that I would get other “men of God” and carry out an open air service.
0 Comments