What Happens When Tradition Stops Serving Us?

At what point does the worshipper gain the right to challenge the decisions of the gods? Are age-old traditions subject to review especially on matters of consent? These questions, and many more, have developed in the minds of the public following the recently concluded Osun-Osogbo Festival. The festival, held in Osun State in south-western Nigeria, has attained great renown as a celebration of the Yoruba river goddess Osun, who is said to represent abundance and prosperity. At the heart of this festival is the votary maiden called Arugba, who leads the procession from the palace to the Osun Sacred Grove carrying a calabash of sacrifices. She is chosen by Ifa divination as the carrier maid of the town’s ritual prayers to the goddess.  

In March 2025, the role of Arugba fell to 10-year-old Princess Alimot Osunbunmi, making her the youngest Arugba known to the general public. This caused a stir as people pondered the implications of placing the weight of such a sacred rite on a young child. Human rights activist and media personality, Omoyele Sowore championed this criticism, remarking that such a decision is blatant child abuse because the princess is still too young to grant informed consent for participation. The central issue is wider than public criticism of a historic festival; it is the question of when, if ever, worshippers are allowed to challenge the rites and customs of the gods.

Tunde Kelani’s ‘Arugba’ (2008), depicts the role as one that grants the maiden divine protection and supernatural abilities to fend for herself and the vulnerable around her. When Adetutu, the fictitious Arugba, is kidnapped alongside other children, she is empowered by the goddess to fight off her abductors and lead the children out safely. The Ifa priest charged her to remain devoted to the women and children of the community, which influenced her desire to create a community development organisation. Again, Adetutu enjoyed honour and respect from all members of the community, both old and young, because they recognised her role as the chosen medium between them and the goddess. On these arguments, the Araba of Osogbo counters Sowore’s criticism by stressing the Arugba’s sacred value. 

The Araba of Osogbo, a custodian of the Osun traditions, explained that the spiritual responsibility is not dependent on the maiden’s physical age. In his opinion, the spiritual maturity and opportunity bestowed on the Arugba may outweigh concerns around her age. In 2025, Princess Alimot did not carry the calabash due to considerations for her age, but in the 2026 Osun-Osogbo festival, she was allowed to. It is recognised that the princess is of a young age, but there is also an expectation placed on her that she will grow into the role. She will be nourished and cared for by the goddess, shielded from heavy manual tasks and impure activities for the period of her service. She must remain pure and untouched throughout her time as Arugba, which may last anything between three and twelve years. Osun traditionalists and fellow enthusiasts believe that the selection is honorable as the maiden is believed to represent the deity itself. 

Conversely, critics have emphasised the place of consent in the sacred rituals and selection of the maiden. They argue that the issue is not with the festival or the rites, but with the idea of selecting a person who cannot refuse or accept the role knowledgeably. At ten years of age, children are still in the early formative period of their lives. This means that children should be free to explore the world around them and discover knowledge through adventure and experimentation. When a child at this age is saddled with such a responsibility, they are forced to grow up faster so as to fill the role. The child is exposed to the pressure of living up to the high expectations that come with the role. She is placed on a pedestal by the community way before she discovers personal identity. Long after the service tenure is over, the maiden is left seeking reconciliation with her rushed childhood.

Beyond this, where is the place for the child’s consent? The child is not presented with the option of whether or not to accept the responsibility of guiding the community spiritually; the oracle has decreed it and so shall it be. Sowore argues that a child deserves the right to learn, grow, and decide their religious inclinations for themselves, instead of being pulled into a role that they do not fully understand.  Another angle of criticism considers the rite as subtly misogynistic. These critics argue that the discrimination of non-virgin maiden during the process is an extension of society’s need to control women and their bodies. The policing of the royal maidens’ virginity and the ridicule that is assigned to those who fall short can be interpreted from the lens of patriarchal subjugation, especially since it only concerns the princesses and not the princes. This way, the maidens’ value is inevitably tied to their sexual status and the purity of their bodies; an idea that society must condemn. 

The beauty of culture is in its service and beneficence to humanity, as culture was made for humankind and not against it, regardless of the gender. This idea implies that traditions are subject to communal review and evaluation no matter how long they have been in practice. However, in Nigeria, the concept of absolute cultural relativism is supreme. Many Nigerians believe that their customs and traditions are not up for debate or criticism, only continuity. In March, 2026, videos from the Alue-Do Festival of Ozoro, Delta State sparked outrage as female passersby were violently assaulted and there were reports of rape. While the traditional rulers distanced themselves and the festival from the incident, many residents of the community confirmed that it was not the first of its kind. Whether or not the untoward actions of the men reflected the original aim of the celebration, the reason such behaviour had been tolerated so far was the traditional backing that the participants claimed. Victims and witnesses simply accepted that it was part of tradition and went along with it until social media activism blew up the issue.

Over the years, the Oro Festival has caused uproar concerning the restrictions of movement that it imposed, especially on women. In 2019 and 2020, traditionalists, Christians and Muslims in the area formed a peace agreement so that the Oro observance could be confined to midnight. Still, in September, 2025, during the Oro Festival, an announcement was released, forbidding people to move around in the day during the festival period. The complaints around the festival have moved from a violation of the right to movement to the crippling of economic activities as shops and stalls are also shut down during that period. Yet, festival enthusiasts remain staunch in their opinion that the practices are not open for questioning since this is how things have always been. 

The position of these traditionalists is that these revisions are a threat to the sanctity of tradition. The commitment to the customs is a defense for repressive modernisation, as exemplified in early colonial times. Nonetheless, culture is dynamic and must be open to evolving with the times. Traditionalists and culture custodians have a duty to the society to evaluate the customs and traditions critically, and eliminate harmful practices. The balance is that these reforms come from within the culture so that there is deep understanding in the evaluation. Society owes it to its inhabitants to continually review itself, and not be stuck in an oppressive journey-in-a-circle. The nobility and sacredness of tradition is not in question but devotees must be critical of what practices they endorse. Above all, the key elements of a person’s freewill and well-being must not be compromised for the sake of tradition. The 2026 Osun-Osogbo Festival ended on July 7, but the questions it raised will linger far longer than that.