Every August, the people of Ugep in Cross River State come alive with colors, dances, and chants during the Leboku New Yam Festival. More than just a harvest celebration, Leboku is a centuries-old tradition that binds the people to their land, their ancestors, and one another. Yet, as Nigeria pushes deeper into modernization, the festival raises important questions: How do we preserve culture in a changing world, and what should Leboku mean for future generations?
At its core, Leboku is an agricultural thanksgiving — a communal recognition of the yam as a symbol of survival and abundance. In an age where imported rice and processed foods dominate the average Nigerian kitchen, Leboku reminds us that yam is not just food, but a cultural identity marker for the Yakurr people. That alone makes it worth preserving.
But the festival cannot remain only a ritual of the past. In recent years, Cross River State has branded Leboku as a tourist attraction. Cultural displays, parades, beauty pageants, and performances have transformed it into a carnival-like event. Some argue this “commercialization” waters down tradition. Others counter that it is necessary to keep the festival alive, generate revenue, and showcase Cross River’s cultural wealth to the world.
I lean toward the latter view. Tradition should not be frozen in time; it must evolve. What matters is that the essence — gratitude, unity, and identity — remains intact. By positioning Leboku as both a spiritual observance and a tourist event, the community creates economic opportunities for artisans, farmers, performers, and local businesses. A festival that feeds both the body and the pocket is more likely to thrive.
That said, authorities must avoid turning Leboku into just another entertainment spectacle. Without deliberate cultural education, younger generations may grow up seeing it only as a show rather than a sacred connection to heritage. The balance lies in documenting rituals, teaching their meanings in schools, and ensuring that while the beauty queens, costumes, and performances shine, the heart of Leboku — thanksgiving for yam and land — is never lost.
Ultimately, the Leboku Festival is a living symbol of Nigeria’s plural identity. It reminds us that development does not mean abandoning tradition; it means adapting it to remain relevant. If properly managed, Leboku can be both a spiritual compass for the Yakurr people and an economic driver for Cross River State.
The yam may be humble, but through Leboku, it speaks volumes: about who we are, where we come from, and how culture can thrive in the 21st century.
