๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐ซ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฆ ๐๐ง๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ฅ ๐จ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐จ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐: ๐๐ก๐ฒ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ ๐๐จ ๐๐๐ฐ ๐๐๐ฆ ๐ ๐๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐ฏ๐๐ฅ ๐๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ญ ๐๐ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ญ๐๐๐ญ๐๐, ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ๐จ๐ญ๐๐, ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ฅ๐จ๐๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ณ๐๐
There is a sacred rhythm etched into the heartbeat of the Igbo peopleโan ancient pulse that drums loudest in the season of harvest. It is the Iri Ji แปhแปฅrแปฅ, the New Yam Festival, not merely a feast of food, but a feast of philosophy, identity, and ancestral communion. To the Igbo, the yam is not just a crop. It is existence. It is dignity. Not only that, but it is the calendar of survival. And it is under siegeโfrom ignorance, from miseducation, from the very pulpits that ought to enlighten.
In this festival lies the soul of a people. To abandon it is to amputate memory. To reject it is to deny one’s ontological rootsโthose spiritual threads that bind the living to the land, to the ancestors, and to the divine rhythm of nature. We must protect it at all cost, promote it with every breath, and globalize it with pride, just as other ancient cultures have preserved their sacred seasonal rites.
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๐ ๐๐ก๐ข๐ฅ๐จ๐ฌ๐จ๐ฉ๐ก๐ข๐๐๐ฅ ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ซ๐จ๐ซ: ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ซ๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐๐ฌ ๐๐ข๐ฏ๐ข๐ฅ๐ข๐ณ๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง๐๐ฅ ๐๐๐ฆ๐จ๐ซ๐ฒ
Across the world, cultures remember themselves through celebration. The Japanese have Obon, a spiritual festival to honor ancestors. Americans gather for Thanksgiving, rooted in gratitude for harvest and survival. Hindus in India ignite the skies with Diwali, the festival of light, which though religious, pulses with cultural depth. Jews gather for Sukkot, building outdoor shelters to remember their journey and divine providence.
Yet when the Igbo gather to thank Chi Ukwu (the Great God) for yams, some Nigerian pastors mount pulpits and call it idolatry.
This is not only a profound misunderstanding of theology, but a dangerous erosion of cultural dignity.
๐๐ฏ๐๐ง ๐๐๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฌ ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ซ๐๐ญ๐๐
We must educate such criticsโfirmly but wisely. Even Jesus of Nazareth, a Middle Eastern Jew, attended weddings (John 2:1โ11), danced at Passover feasts, and joined annual pilgrimages to Jerusalem. His first miracle? At a wedding party. His last supper? A traditional Passover meal. Why then should an Igbo man not eat yam with his people, dance to the ogene, and give thanks to God in his mother tongue?
If Jesus could honor his Hebrew roots, why should we, His followers, abandon our own?
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ซ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฒ ๐จ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ซ๐๐ฅ ๐๐ฆ๐ง๐๐ฌ๐ข๐
To mock the New Yam Festival is to dance dangerously close to cultural self-annihilation. What colonization could not fully erase, neo-colonial spirituality now threatensโdressed in holy garments, preaching alienation from heritage. We are witnessing a subtle but devastating genocide of memory.
The same people who speak in tongues unknown to their ancestors call the Igbo language “local.” The same ones who eat bread and wine in communion call yam rituals “fetish.” What irony!
๐๐ฎ๐ง๐ง๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐ฅ ๐ ๐๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐ฏ๐๐ฅ๐ฌ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ฅ๐๐ฐ๐ข๐๐
It is time to decolonize celebration. Let us begin to run parallel New Yam Festivals in the diasporaโfrom London to New York, from Berlin to Tokyo. Let Igbo children abroad understand that the story of a people is written not only in books, but in rituals, dances, and the breaking of yam.
Let Paris host an Iri Ji parade beside Bastille Day.
Let Canadaโs multicultural calendar make room for the yam.
Let us sit in our native wrappers beside sushi and schnitzel, and teach the world what it means to give thanks with ancestral honor.
Just as Oktoberfest celebrates German brewing, and Holi colors Indiaโs spiritual canvas, Iri Ji แปhแปฅrแปฅ must stand on the global stageโnot as a relic of the past, but as a prophecy of cultural rebirth.
๐ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐จ ๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง: ๐๐๐๐ฅ๐๐ข๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ซ ๐๐๐๐ซ๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ญ๐๐ฌ
To every church and pastor who preaches against the New Yam Festival: you are not defending the faithโyou are crucifying culture. Christianity does not demand cultural erasure. The gospel is not a weapon of ethnic self-hatred. The apostles never burned the Torah scrolls; they fulfilled them with love and light.
To embrace Iri Ji is not to reject Christ. It is to honor God through the joy of harvest, the unity of kinship, and the poetry of land and life.
๐๐ฉ๐๐๐ค, ๐๐๐ง๐๐, ๐๐ก๐๐ซ๐
So let the ogene ring in Germany. Let the flute call dancers in Atlanta. Let roasted yam meet red oil on balconies in Birmingham. Let every Igbo child, born abroad or at home, know that they come from a people who give thanks loudly, beautifully, and without shame.
This is more than a festival. It is a resistance to erasure, a reclamation of memory, and a resurrection of pride.
We do not apologize for our yam. We elevate it.
What do you think? Should the Igbo New Yam Festival be observed globally? Have you faced criticism for celebrating your culture? Share your thoughts. Letโs start a conversation that reclaims our story.