HALLOWEEN AND IGBA MMAWU: A TALE OF THE SAME MASKS AND THE LOST PRIDE OF THE IGBO

There is an ancient Igbo proverb that says, “A man who does not know where the rain began to beat him cannot know where he dried his body.” This truth echoes deeply in our times, as we, Africans—especially the Igbo—find ourselves celebrating the strange while neglecting the sacred. Every October, we see our youths painting their faces, wearing strange costumes, and shouting “Happy Halloween!” Yet, in this masquerade of imitation, we fail to see that Halloween and igba mmáwù—the masquerade festival—are one and the same in purpose, spirit, and symbolism.

Halloween, in the West, is a day of masks, costumes, and connection with ancestral spirits. In Igbo land, igba mmáwù is our way of honoring our ancestors and unseen forces, a celebration of the mystery that binds the living and the spirit world. So why do we despise our own while glorifying the foreign? It is the disease of inferiority complex, a silent chain that binds the African mind. As our elders say, “He who does not value his own will beg for another man’s leftovers.”

We have allowed the winds of imitation to sweep away the fragrance of originality. Our masquerades once told stories, taught morals, and united communities. Today, they gather dust, while our children worship imported customs they barely understand. The same excitement we show for Halloween should be shown for igba mmáwù, iri ji, and other cultural festivities that hold the soul of the Igbo nation.

And what about our language—the heart of our identity? The Igbo tongue is a fountain of wisdom, a language where every name, every word, breathes meaning. Words like “Chi,” “Udo,” “Nkem,” “Ifeoma,” and “Obi” carry worlds within them. The Igbo language is poetic, philosophical, and powerful beyond translation. To speak Igbo is to speak in proverbs, to reason in depth, and to connect with the spirit of our ancestors. No foreign tongue can capture the sweetness, rhythm, or spirit of Asụsụ Igbo.

It is time to rise and reclaim what is ours. Let us teach our children Igbo, sing our songs, and dance to the drums of our ancestors. Let igba mmáwù parade again in our streets with pride and dignity. Let the Igbo language be elevated—not just spoken at home but made official in our schools, offices, and governance.

For as our fathers said,“Nwata kọọ akwa nna ya, akpọrọ ya onye ọgaranya n’omenala”—“A child who celebrates his father’s heritage is rich in culture”.

Let us return to our roots, for in them lies our true power, pride, and identity.