The night air should have been ablaze with torches. Children should have been dart­ing through alleyways with fire-lit sticks, their laughter harmonising with the ancestral drums.

Elders should have been narrating ancient legends under the glow of a thousand flames, while chants soared into the heavens.

But on the night of July 6, Tamale stood still, cloaked not in the radiant warmth of Bugum Chugu, the Fire Festival, but in an unsettling quiet.

The torches were unlit, the chants unsung. A sacred fire had been extinguished before it could even begin.

‘Bugum Chugu, one of Northern Ghana’s most spiritually charged and historically signifi­cant annual celebrations, was officially can­celled in 2025 by the Overlord of Dabang, Yaa Naa Abukari II, following advice from Ghana’s Police Service. The announcement, made in the final week of June and widely reported in local media, stated:

“His Majesty, the Yaa Naa, acting in consul­tation with the security agencies, has called off this year’s Bugum Chugu to preserve peace and avert any threats to public safety.”

Security intelligence had revealed that cer­tain factions, believed to be aligned with long­standing rivalries within the traditional area were allegedly planning to hijack the festival’s intensity to incite unrest and potentially cause bloodshed.

The ‘Bugum Chugu’ is a sacred reenactment of a legendary rescue, dating back over 700 years, when a prince from the ancient Dagbon kingdom went missing one night. In desper­ation, the community lit grass torches and swept through the dark savannah.

He was eventually found under a tree, and in joy and reverence, the people lit more torches and danced through the village, believing that the fire had guided them. That act of unity, faith, and thanksgiving became a ritual passed through generations.

The festival is observed annually on the 9th night of Muharram, the first month of the Islamic lunar calendar, making the exact date shift each year.

In 2025, it was scheduled for July 6.

While Tamale and Yendi remain the most vi­brant hubs, Bugum Chugu is celebrated across the Dagbon Traditional Area including Savelu­gu, Tolon, Karaga, Gushegu, Saboba, and even among diaspora Dagombas in Europe and the Americas.

The ceremony is the remembrance of an­cestors, unity, and symbolic cleansing through fire, which unfolds dramatically in a single night.

After evening prayers, the community gath­ers, elders in flowing smocks, youth in symbol­ic warrior garbs at the chief’s palace or central point.

A ceremonial fire is lit. From it, thousands of bundled grass torches are ignited, where a massive procession ensues, winding through the streets, accompanied by drumming, chanting, and sporadic gunfire from ancient muskets. It’s a sensory explosion of firelight and emotion, culminating in symbolic acts of purification and triumph.

The Fire Festival is often described as “emo­tionally charged” because it taps into deep cultural memory, ancestral pride, and a sacred identity that survived colonialism, conflict, and modern transformation. When rival fac­tions threaten to politicise or manipulate that energy, the festival becomes volatile.

As one police report warned, “an emotion­ally heightened atmosphere like Bugum Chugu provides the perfect opportunity for old ten­sions to resurface violently.”

Against this backdrop, Alhaji Yussif, some­one who actively participates in the rituals of the festival expressed both sorrow and un­derstanding. He told The Spectator that the cancellation was a very good decision taken by the King.

“It protected the dignity of our festival and prevented it from being weaponised,” he added.

In homes where old men folded their festival smocks early, at playgrounds where children asked why the sky was dark, in diaspora com­munities who had booked flights to be part of the sacred night again.

The cancellation reflects a larger truth that, cultural traditions cannot thrive in the shad­ow of conflict. Where peace falters, memory falters. Ritual becomes risk and festivals which is meant to be vessels of unity become flash­points of division.

The Dagbon Kingdom, once crippled by decades of leadership disputes, saw heal­ing in 2019 when the Yaa Naa was enskinned after years of mediation. That moment was a beacon of reconciliation. But the cancellation of Bugum Chugu 2025 reminds us that peace is not a destination, but it is a daily commit­ment.

The Yaa Naa’s decision, though heartbreak­ing, was a lesson in leadership. It calls on every stakeholder, youth, elders, chiefs, poli­ticians, civil society to protect peace, not only for stability, but for the survival of tradition itself. Because the flames of the Fire Festival do more than illuminate the night.

If we let conflict dictate our celebrations, we risk surrendering the very soul of who we are.

But if we defend peace, fiercely and inten­tionally, we will reclaim the fire.

And when that time comes perhaps next year, the skies of Tamale will blaze again.

The torches will rise, the drums will speak, the ancestors will hear and the children of Dagbon will once more walk with fire in their hands and pride in their hearts

 By Geoffrey Buta