By Kachi Offiah
Where Culture Came Dressed in Majesty
Ojude Oba is the kind of festival that creates nostalgia even before you experience it. Or, as Gen Z would put it, FOMO.
Before I got to Ijebu-Ode, I thought I understood Ojude Oba. I had seen the documentaries, the Instagram reels, the coordinated aso-oke, the horse riders, the famous faces, the viral moments. But nothing prepares you for the way the city receives the festival before the arena does.
The History
Long before one arrives at the arena, Ijebu-Ode has already begun to speak. This was my first time in Ijebu-Ode, and I was certain it was going to be everything I had heard and seen.
Ojude Oba is held annually in Ijebu-Ode, Ogun State, traditionally on the third day after Eid al-Kabir. The 2026 edition, held on Friday, May 29, carried extra emotional weight because it was the first after the passing of Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona, the late Awujale of Ijebuland, who died on July 13, 2025, after a 65-year reign.
In the absence of a crowned Awujale, Olorogun Dr Sunny Kuku, the Ogbeni Oja of Ijebuland, received homage on behalf of the institution.
Amid mixed reactions, the ceremony continued as a celebration of the Awujale’s life. Spectators wondered how a festival built to honour the Awujale could hold without its symbol of relevance and authority. For the people of Ijebu-Ode, Ojude Oba 2026 was not simply a gathering. It felt like a homecoming that everyone had rehearsed for years and, perhaps most powerfully, a reminder that heritage does not fade when held by a people determined to keep it alive.
It is important for people to approach Ojude-oba as more than a cultural phenomenon. It is something deeper. It is an homage. It is a reunion. It is Thanksgiving. It is the annual moment when sons and daughters of Ijebuland, at home and across the diaspora, return to stand before history and say, with elegance and conviction: “We are still here, and we know who we are.”
Regbe Regbe
The beauty of Ojude Oba lies in its balance. Ojude Oba makes ageing beautiful. The Regberegbe are Ijebu age-grade societies, usually grouped by age brackets and separated into male Okunrin and female Obinrin groups.
It’s difficult to pronounce the name, ‘Regberegbe’, without feeling the rhythm of it. You almost cannot help but shake your shoulders because the name in itself is an honour.
Led by their Giwa and Iyalode, the men and women of the Regberegbe are grouped by age, but their purpose goes beyond the parade. They are social, cultural, and community development societies, bound by generation and responsibility. At Ojude Oba, they appear before the royal pavilion not only to display grandeur but also to renew their allegiance to the Awujale institution.
The Parade
The Regberegbe is regal without being distant and ancient without feeling frozen in time. The familiar fabric for the Regbe Regbe is Aso-Oke, Damask, Lace and Brocade. Gele rose like architecture. Fila sat with quiet confidence. Coral beads, gold accents, walking sticks, fans and sunglasses added their own punctuation to the poetry of appearance.
The festival featured over 90 Regberegbe age-grade processions draped in colour and majesty.
As the sun begins to heat up, so does the festival. The Regberegbe began to file in, group after group, dancing towards the royal pavilion where Olorogun Dr Sunny Kuku received homage on behalf of the Awujale institution.
The parade is a moment where the men and women sing, dance and celebrate themselves. It is a dance to the finish as they compete for a prize. The competition is not merely ceremonial. In 2026, the winning Regberegbe groups and horse-riding families received cash prizes: first-place winners received ₦750,000, second-place winners ₦600,000, and third-place winners ₦500,000.
Egbe Bobakeye led the male category, while Egbe Arobayo Obinrin Precious won the female category.
Eleshin Oba
Few sights at Ojude Oba rival the drama of the Balogun families and their horse-riding displays. The horses, adorned with colour and ceremony, moved through the arena like living emblems of history. Their riders carried themselves with the confidence of descendants who understand the weight of what they represent.
At this point, the RegbeRegbe have retired to their respective individual parties, and the gates are open for the Horses and their Riders.
The crowd responded as crowds do when tradition becomes theatre: with cheers, phones raised, bodies leaning forward so as not to miss a second, drones in the air and every cinematographer clamouring for the best shot. You blink, and you’d miss the best part of it.
The Legacy: Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona
This year’s celebration carried an unmistakable tenderness. It was impossible to ignore the absence of the late Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona, the revered Awujale of Ijebuland, whose reign became inseparable from the modern stature of the festival. Yet, in that absence, there was also a profound kind of presence. His legacy hovered over the day, not in silence, but in continuity. The people came. The age grades came. The horse riders came. The community beheld a specctacle and watched the splendour of the Ijebu people on display. The drums rose. The chants followed. And Ijebu-Ode proved that true institutions do not end; they echo.
What makes Ojude Oba so compelling is that it never stops. It is a silent code, the drums of the ijebu people must be heard far and wide.
For a generation often accused of being detached from tradition, the festival offers a beautiful rebuttal. Young Ijebu men and women are not simply attending; they are participating, styling, documenting, interpreting and preserving. They are proving that culture survives best when it is not locked away in reverence, but worn, danced, photographed, debated, celebrated and passed on with joy.
This is perhaps the greatest lesson of Ojude Oba: heritage does not have to shrink to remain pure.
It can expand.
It can attract cameras, designers, tourists, influencers, corporate sponsors and global attention, and still retain its soul.
The key is ownership. The Ijebu people own this festival with a certainty that cannot be borrowed.
In a country as culturally abundant as Nigeria, Ojude Oba still stands apart because it understands theatre without losing meaning.
Ojude Oba is more than a festival. It is proof that tradition, when cherished properly, does not become old. It becomes iconic.
Photo Credit – Babajide Jeffrey Soile (Straw Hat Photography) and Qudus Adio Shodunke (@theshodunke)
