The New Yam Festival

By Deborah Mboya

There is a proverb in Iboland that says, "When the harvest season ends, it is the time of the year when everybody is at home." The Yam Festival has come to an end, and The New Yam Festival has begun. It is an extraordinary celebration of the harvest season, the culture, and oral traditions of the people who live in the village of Uwaoma. It is also an occasion for giving thanks to all the gods of the land for making the harvest possible. Achuwanike was the first yam farmer in his village to win a yam title at The Yam Festival. Now that the harvest season is over, he is in close communion with his family, relatives, neighbors, friends, and the spirits of the ancestors of the past, present, and future for the next harvest season.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504977722

Deborah Mboya

I knew I wanted to be a freelance writer ever since I was in the twelfth grade in high school because I fell in love with writing when I wrote my first short story in the fifth grade. What I didn’t know was how I was going to, when I was going to, and what I wanted to write about. Special thanks to AuthorHouse for being a part of one of the most fascinating experiences and opportunities of my life.

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© 2016 Deborah Mboya. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse  10/04/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5049-7773-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-7772-2 (e)

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 1

In Iboland, The New Yam Festival is a celebration of the end of the harvest season and the beginning of the next working cycle. It is held during the months of July, August, September, October, November, and December to make farms and the eating of new yams. It also brings gods and people together in one crowd with the deities, personal spirits that belong to every household, who do not have their own special feasts. Large numbers of guests from far and wide gather together to offer a sacrifice of new yams and palm-oil to their ancestors to protect them and their families, and there will be eating yams and drinking palm-oil for seven days and seven nights until the year ends. Before The New Yam Festival, a man might dig up a few yams around his house to ward off hunger in his family, but no one would begin the harvesting of the big farms, and no man of title would taste new yams from whatever source before the festival. Today was the first morning after The Yam Festival, and the business side of yam farming had disappeared. The compound and village ilo, the village streets and playground, became a Saturday and Sunday past-time. The village was in a festive mood with singing, dancing, wrestling, swimming, games, music, and plays. These are some of the favorite past-times and recreations of the community. It was the dry season, a period of excessive dryness, and all the villages in Iboland worked collectively to demonstrate the culture and traditions of the past, present, and future.

"The New Yam Festival

Extraordinarily magical

A time of the year

    when everybody draws near

And families and friends

    celebrate until it comes to an end

Yam is the staff of life

    all day and all night

Yam farmers make their mark

Angels in heaven hark

Spirits shower blessings

Hard work in the past lessens

People honor their achievements

    of a long year that was spent

    tilling the land for many reasons

    for a bountiful harvest in the next season

    while ushering in a new year

An ingathering full of cheer."

"Will the coming of the foreigners bless us

If so then their presence is a must

    and their western culture will be a plus

The seventeenth and eighteenth century traditions

    of the foreigners will put us in a position

    to change our religion and become Christians

To make phenomenal progress that will impact

    the scientific accomplishments of their culture that will in fact

    teach us their ways before they go back home

    to their own continent and leave us alone

I would rather see them go back than be their slave

Such a horrible price to pay in exchange for trade

I refuse to be swept off my feet by the invaders

They say our tradition and culture are no good

Every aspect of African ways of life are misunderstood

Their arrival has stirred up such a revival

    the Africans are looking for their bible

The foreigners say our behavior and thoughts are barbaric and crude

We say their concern for this continent is greedy and rude

They want to broaden their horizons and explore

They have settled down here without knocking at one door

No matter what they have to say it does not explain the

    truth away

Because it is so outdated their coming here is motivated

    by the goods sold in the marketplace every day."

"The only place where a man’s personal achievements make

    him rich and one of the lords of the clan is Iboland

A poor man can become a rich farmer and sharecrop by asking

    for seed-yams

During the Week of Peace do not anger Ani

Maybe once but not twice

It could cost a man his life

A third abominable act against Ani

    means exile from one’s village and family."

"Native children are learning to read and write in school

The spirits of the ancestors would have called them fools

Because it is the result of another nation’s government and religion

    and not the result of the elders decisions."

"Some titled men fear the missionaries Christianity

    will turn Uwaoma into a more open society

The foreigners are taking a foothold on Africa like a thief in

    the night

Everybody wants them to go but nobody wants to lead the fight."

"For Uwaoma perhaps this is not the right time

    but various foreign countries are scrambling to establish

    colonies in Africa and we must bear in mind

All the rituals, ceremonies, gods, goddesses, oracles, and divinations

    have the greatest power and influence in our nation."

"The traditional Ibo wedding ceremony

    takes place to bring together the bridegroom and his

    bride-to-be

The period of courtship was long

The bridegroom has completed working on his in-laws farm

He has paid the bride-price

The ancestors have blessed the marriage after a sacrifice

The village joins the couple with music and the dance of the

    maidens

Then there is a presentation of the dowry to the bride by her

    parents and relations

The pageant moves to the bridegroom’s compound

    where the wedding feast is served to guests from town to town."

"The age-grade naming festival is a ceremony with fun

    for people between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one

To be recognized as a group and named as an age-grade

    they serve the community and contribute the money

    they saved."

Today, the children are playing happily in the sand. A company of boys are imitating their juju, symbols that represent spirits, while a bevy of merry girls are dancing with whole-hearted enjoyment. The older men lounge around in a leisurely manner, and the young engage in their favorite activities. Because it is the dry season, the women and older girls are not engaged in work, but even they exhibit no signs of rush or worry. Their houses and compounds have been swept diligently, and the walls and clay floors have been rubbed and polished. Some depart to fetch water in their large clay pots skillfully balanced on their heads. Others are busy with preparations for the evening meal, or just sit around and talk about Ibo life.

It’s the dry season.

I want to enjoy myself as much as possible.

Sometimes the problems of life in Iboland can be overwhelming.

We cannot allow that to happen.

I enjoy making people laugh.

Your folktales prove that.

Look, over there, a short play!

There is an African proverb that goes it is a common custom of the Ibo to stay connected with the spirits of the ancestors in a form of play-acting. The one selected to act the character of a spirit is dressed from head to toe in costumes made out of palm leaves or costumes that are decorated with rings and patches in bright colors.

Some fit the body like tights, others wear kilts, a knee-length pleated skirt, pants, cloth over their hands and feet like socks and mittens, and faces with peep-holes to see and breath. No human skin can be seen by the spectator. Sometimes the face covering is joined to the dress as a part of the whole costume, but most of the time the spirits wear masks.

When the bush fires burn from early January until the end of March, the fires quicken the ancestral spirits and their rest is disturbed. The Ayakka, a Secret Society who start their activities during this time, are among the resurrected and wandering spirits.

When the itipu-maw, calling out of the spirit, was blown on the igwe, a reed instrument, the egwugwu, the ejelle-egwu, and the agbo-maw, a group of maw-napu-apu, wandering spirits, returned to their former surroundings to join the members of the Obgoni of the Yorubas, another Secret Society, in a festive celebration of ancestral spirits.

When the leader of the Secret Society sounds the signal on the odegilligillia, a wooden instrument, the Ayakka carry on their activities. The sounding of the odegilligillia is the signal for the members of the Secret Society to work their way towards the center of the compound. If by any chance a member of the Ayakka stumbles upon a man who is not an initiated member of the Secret Society, he will be thrown into the bush if he is caught.

At the first sight or sound of an approaching wild animal, the women and children rush into hiding. The egwugwu, the ejelle-egwu, and the agbo-maw selected the same night to parade during the celebration of the ancestral spirits, then they found their way back home during the dark hours of the march where they crossed the Ayakka.

I feel like scaring somebody.

I enjoy making people smile.

The Ibo is able to rise above his troubles when he shares that gift with his fellow clansman.

There has been enough sorrow and suffering during the past planting season.

More than a full measure.

I enjoy entertaining people.

The community has been working whole-heartedly to entertain the village in the ilo.

I have been looking forward to the plays since the first seed-yam was planted in the ground.

It is one of the favorite past-times of the older folk.

There is music.

And instruments.

The greatest of all instruments is the drum.

The native piano is perhaps the most common instrument.

It is made out of cane with seven keys and is played with the thumbs.

Then there is dancing.

When the moon shines with power, dancing takes the place of the other Ibo’s past-times.

Native dancing is the most ancient and fascinating of all forms of art.

Everybody who can move, dances.

Dancing is the most popular and widely practiced of all recreations among the Ibos.

When Ibo people dance, it is an expression of joy and thanksgiving.

It is an expression of religion.

It is an expression of feelings.

People are better able to express their feelings in this way than in any other.

Men and women spend almost all of their free time learning new movements.

Dancers from all parts of Iboland will compete with one another in one compound.

The objective of their performance is to produce the best companies of skilled artists.

The first dance of the dry season is known as ubo-ogazi, the guinea-fowl dance.

The dancers wear rattles on their legs.

They wear strings of tiny brass bells fastened around their waists that jingle in time with the music of the band.

The band takes up its position under the shade of a tree at a convenient spot well clear of the space reserved for the dancers.

One of the bandsmen sounds a few notes to announce that everything is ready to begin.

The other instrumentalists join him, and this is the signal for the dancers to fall into a line.

The spectators, are for the most part, silent because they are watching.

When the ubo-ogazi ends, a signal is given by the leader to stop dancing.

The performers are twisting, turning, and leaping until sweat runs from their bodies in streams.

Guinea-fowl dancers are professional dancers.

Around their ankles are clusters of cowrie shells.

There is also wrestling and swimming.

Those are the sports that belong mostly to the men.

Before wrestling, a man will usually touch the ground with the tips of his fingers in order to draw strength from them.

On another side of the compound, a young man of eighteen years of age just threw Amalinze the Cat.

The Cat is well-known throughout Iboland for being unbeaten by any other wrestler for the past seven years.

The wrestling match begins with boys of fifteen and sixteen years old who are not old enough to be real wrestlers.

They are just there to set the scene.

First, the wrestlers meet one another at the center of the ring for the customary wrestling greeting.

They smack their right hands together.

Every part of the body is brought into play.

Hands, legs, and head.

They return to the edge of the ring.

They approach one another again as if they are a pair of leopards stalking one another in the jungle.

Finally, they meet in the center of the ring.

Within a short time, the first two wrestling matches are over.

But during the third one, the match ends quickly when one of the wrestlers throws the other wrestler off his balance pinning his back to the ground.

Real wrestlers would struggle, darting, and dodging at one another.

This way and that way.

Slapping faces and bodies using all their strength.

Using all their patience.

Using all their skill.

Dodging, pulling, twisting, and turning at great speed.

They have until at least one of the wrestlers is pressed down on the ground, or both wrestlers realize their hold on one another, and the battle is over.

"All Ibo boys learn how to wrestle in a rough-and-tumble

way."

Catch-as-catch-can.

Onlookers shout their loudest to encourage their favorite wrestler.

The crowd shouts itself hoarse.

The spectators hold their breath.

They compete with one another to become the next local champions.

The elders once said a wrestling match is a test of strength and staying power.

To the Ibos who live on the banks of the Niger River, swimming is part of everyday life.

Because they live near the great waters, it is not extraordinary for them to spend a lot of time in the water.

They are as happy in the water as they are out of it.

They swim as freely as they walk.

They walk from their earliest days until they know the river so well, swimming becomes a natural activity.

When the river is flooded, they plunge in fearlessly, when the river is at its lowest.

They plunge in fearlessly when the river is at its quietest level.

They can hold their breath under water for long periods of time.

The greatest excitement among the people who live near the Niger River is waiting for the steamers to pass a village.

Boys and girls are on the look-out to pick up treasures, empty tins, and bottles that are thrown from the steamers.

The little canoes plunge into the water and race madly after them.

Children create a sport out of canoe racing and paddling through the water after steamers that pass the villages.

They throw out tins and bottles overboard.

They tumble out of their canoes and race for the prizes which become their trophies.

Women and girls would rather dance to celebrate the dry season.

Archery is a favorite sport of the boys.

The art of shooting with bows and arrows is a sport that is important in hunting or war.

In the dry season, it provides recreation and amusement to young men.

My children have made their bows and arrows.

The boys practice with them on birds and lizards that dart about the compounds.

The archery competitions begin at cock-crow.

There is more fun and excitement during the dry season than any other time of the year.

But the players are responsible for bringing the prize.

The boy who holds the largest number of arrows at the end of the match is the winner.

The boys compete with one another until they are tired of the game.

Cowrie shells are awarded to the winner of the shoot or the one who collects all the arrows at the end of the game.

Another prize is for the winner to collect all the shot arrows after each bout.

Igba-ita is a game of chance like Pitch-and-Toss.

You don’t get a chance to pass your turn to play.

Two men were facing one another in front of one of the village huts playing a game of ubaw-okwe, a board game that is played on a board with seeds.

No sport or game would be complete in Iboland without ubaw-okwe.

I don’t like ubaw-okwe.

Some people make bets with one another during the game.

Large debts are accumulated in that way.

When are you going to return the two hundred cowries you borrowed from me three years ago?

I used the cowries to buy seed-yams for my yam title.

Did you win?

No. Achuwanike won the yam title.

You are not the only man in Iboland who owes me cowries for their debts.

Let’s make a bet. I will pay you what I owe you at the end of the game if I win.

Some men are more successful at borrowing money and piling up their debts.

Ubaw-okwe is like yam farming.

A clever farmer calculates when to drop his seed-yams in the earth the same way you place your counters on the board.

I know a native song that is more fascinating than listening to instruments.

"We need a man who has earned a great reputation for making

    a drum but in the town of Amawbia there has been none

Umu-Nze

Umu-Nze

Umu-Nze

For your services we promise you a large fee

Umu-Nze

Umu-Nze

Umu-Nze

For a very large fee I will make you the largest

    drum ever owned in other towns

If a drum like it appears anywhere else in Iboland

    we will take you down

Umu-Nze

Umu-Nze

Umu-Nze

If the glory and pride of Umu-Nze would be humbled to the dust

    the service to make the largest drum in Iboland

    is certainly a must

Umu-Nze

Umu-Nze

Umu-Nze

The maker of the wonderful tom-tom has been paid his price

Set him free

Umu-Nze

Umu-Nze

Umu-Nze."

An elder once said, There is a proverb that says it is customary to translate English hymns into the native dialect and sing these to their associated tunes. Every man, woman, and child understood the language of the hollowed-out wooden drums. Gome, gome, gome, gome, gome, gome, gome boomed the hollow metal of