Every August, the streets of Cape Coast turn red and black for Fetu Afahye.
In Ada, the Asafotufiami drums recall wars fought. In Anlo, atseagbekor and other vigorous dances remind the people of their escape from a wicked king to their present-day settlements. In Kroboland, Dipo initiates girls into womanhood. In Manhyia, Akwasidae reminds Asantes of who they are. These are not mere holidays on a calendar. They are Ghana's memory bank.
Yet, across the country, from Homowo in Greater Accra to Hogbetsotso in Anlo, to Kundum in Axim, to Bugum in Dagbon, a troubling trend is emerging.
Our traditional festivals are increasingly losing their essence, not because our traditions are weak, but because the vices attached to them by a section of the youth are slowly hollowing them from within.
What was once sacred is becoming scandalous.
What was meant for reflection is becoming reckless.
elders still offer libation.
The priests still perform the rites.
The chiefs still sit in state.
But around the core of the festival, a parallel festival has emerged — one defined by excessive alcohol, drug abuse, indecent dressing deliberately staged for social media, open sexual immorality, vulgar music far removed from traditional rhythms, violent clashes between youth groups, and the use of festivals as platforms for fraud, theft and political display.
During the last Homowo in Greater Accra, what should have been a celebration of resilience and overcoming hunger descended into street brawls, abuse of alcohol, smoking of marijuana, and young women being harassed in the name of fun.
At the Oguaa Fetu, police §had to mount special operations because festival nights have become synonymous with some serious vices.
At Kwahu during Easter — though not a traditional festival in the strict sense, but now deeply cultural — what began as a homecoming has become notorious for debauchery.
If we are not careful, the very institutions that have preserved our identity for centuries will be rejected by the next generation of parents who will see festivals as unsafe for their children.
This must not happen.
And it needs not happen.
In a country grappling with identity crisis, chieftaincy disputes, youth unemployment and cultural erosion from globalisation, festivals are more than dance and durbar.
They perform four critical functions: Hogbetsotso re-enacts the escape of Ewes from Notsie.
Asafotufiami teaches the youth about the wars of the Ada people. Without these, history dies.
Festivals bring home citizens from Accra, Kumasi, London and New York.
They settle family disputes, mobilise for development projects and clean communities.
They help with moral formation. Dipo, Bragoro and other puberty rites were designed to teach chastity, hard work and respect.
They were classrooms without walls.
When properly packaged, festivals drive domestic tourism, create jobs for hospitality, transport, crafts and food vendors.
To lose them is to lose a low-cost, high-impact tool for national development.
The Daily Graphic believes the problem is not the youth per se; it is the vacuum we left.
Traditional Councils have, in many places, outsourced the festival to event promoters and DJs.
The sacred days are no longer explained in schools.
Many young people attend festivals not knowing what Homowo means — "hooting at hunger" — or why Fetu means clearing filth.
They see only the carnival.
Parents too have shirked their responsibilities. Social media has turned every cultural gathering into a content opportunity — who is most naked, most drunk, most daring.
And our security and regulatory bodies treat festivals as purely security problems to be policed, not cultural assets to be managed.
Queenmothers must be empowered to lead campaigns against sexual harassment during festivals.
Let youth groups be responsible for cleaning, for guiding visitors, for cultural competitions — drumming, dancing, storytelling — with prizes.
Give them a sense of pride, not just permission.
Let the festival have innovation hubs where young entrepreneurs showcase products inspired by tradition.
Ghana cannot afford to watch its festivals become mere orgies of alcohol and violence while we lament moral decay.
Other countries — from Brazil to Japan — have preserved the sanctity of their festivals while making them globally attractive.
The drums must still beat. The warriors must still fire muskets.
The maidens must still carry ornamental pots.
But they must do so to teach, to unite and to inspire — not to provide cover for vice.
festivals made us.
It is time we made the effort to save them.
