Only two words necessary... Fire. Festival.

I have been looking forward to Fire Festival almost since the moment I found out I was going to be stationed in the Northern Region. I heard a lot about it during training, and I did a presentation with a couple of my fellow trainees about northern festivals, so I had also done some research on the activities I would be witnessing/taking part in. Needless to say, by the time the day of the festival arrived (last Thursday), I was stoked. The morning and afternoon were fairly uneventful-I did laundry, rode my bike, did some work at the office, and made lunch. Pretty standard stuff. As the afternoon went by, things stayed pretty normal. There was definitely a buzz in the air, but no festivities had really started yet (after all, it is called the "fire festival" and fire is best viewed at night...)

 While I was hanging out in my usual spot at Yahaya/'s store, I asked some of my friends why we celebrate fire, of all things. They told me a legend about a Dagomba chief who had a son who went into the bush one day to chase after an animal. After some time, the boy did not return, and the chief began to worry. He consulted the elders and as the darkness increased, they decided that the best way to find the son was to set fire to the bush, so that the son would see the fire and find his way back home. According to the story, the chief did indeed set things on fire and it worked-the son found his way back to the village and they have come together once a year to celebrate the fire festival ever since. Now, whether or not this is true or just some story that my friends concocted so they could laugh later (it's possible ha), it still sets the stage for the amazing (and dangerous) celebration of fire.

As we all parted ways for prayers and dinner, my friends told me I better do my best to wear clothing that covered my entire body, for safety. This worried me slightly, but I still dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt (it's COLD here at night!), sneakers, and a hat just in case. I came out of my house shortly after 7pm and just sat on the veranda of my compound, which faces the road. Things were really starting to get dark and children were running from all directions to gather near the chief's palace (conveniently right next door to my compound!). Minutes later, my dear friend Sanatu and her sisters ran up to me carrying giant torches made of long dried grass and tied together with small cloth peices. Many were shaped like crosses, with a long vertical portion and a smaller horizontal crosspeice. This was slightly disconcerting at first (burning crosses? What have I gotten myself into?), but soon I realized that this structure was simply for asthetic appeal, so no worries there... Anyway, Sanatu handed me a massive torch, which was unlit because the festival had not begun yet. So there we were, gathered around with our unlit torches on the side of the road, waiting for the chief to emerge. The moment the chief stepped out of his palace, everyone went crazy. The drummers started drumming and singing, and everyone was dancing around in anticipation. This alone was a sight to see. Well, the chief chose a spot directly in front of my house to light the first flame on his torch, after which a FLOOD of people ran over with their own torches to light their torches from the fire of his, and soon nearly everyone had burning torches in their hands.

This is when the fun really started.

I was practically in a trance already, since I've always had a fascination with fire (maybe from all of those years of burning leaves in the yard with dad), but as the crowd gathered and multiplied, I was absolutely mesmorized. Imagine a group of about 700 people of all ages. We're talking young men, the elderly, even children and babies, all gathered together in a massive crowd with fire glowing like a canopy overhead. We assembled our crowd in the middle of the highway (traffic didn't stand a chance against us that night) and starting making our way down the road. The children swung their torches high above their heads. Men in their 20s were painted with ash, wearing traditional tribal jewelry and walking with bare feet. Mothers held torches in front of them while their babies, strapped to their backs in cloth, stared in amazement. A whole slew of drummers set the tone of the march with varied songs and chants, while elderly women brought up the rear with dancing and chanting. Boys as young as 12 wandered the crowd with guns and machetes, occasionally shooting into the air or scraping the ground loudly with the tips of their knives (I told you this was dangerous, but thankfully no one was hurt).

As we danced and sang our way down the road, we lit nearly everything in sight. After about 20 minutes of walking/dancing, we arrived at a massive tree and people of all ages started throwing their torches at the tree to light it on fire. I kept my distance (throwing fire? No thanks), and soon everyone had thrown their torches and picked up unburnt branches from the tree and started waving them around, as the procession continued. This actually reminded me of what it might have been like when the people waved palm branches and celebrated the arrival of Jesus on a donkey (minus Jesus and the donkey, of course). We waved our branches above our heads and swung them to the ground, back and forth, to the rhythm of the drums. Since Gushie is lacking electricity, the only light to guide us was the moon, and the silhouettes of the branches were stunning.

Soon, however, we reached a stopping point, at which time we laid our branches on the ground and picked up new torches, and soon the fire aspect of the festival was underway again. At this point, things went from awesome to absolutely incredible. With our reignited torches, the chief led the way back down the road in the opposite direction, only this time, everyone was running. I was lucky enough to be in the front of the pack, so I stopped for a split second to look back at this massive body of people with their torches lit, all running as fast as they could. As we ran, those on the outer edges of the road let their torches drag, so that the grass on either side of the road was catching on fire as we passed. I wish I could show you a picture of that moment. It was unreal. I took photos throughout the night (pictures to come very soon!), but at that particular time, I chose to keep my camera in my pocket and just soak up the surreality of the experience. I'm so glad I did.

After this triumphant ending, we were sent off to our invidual compounds with the sound of drumming and lingering songs. My friends walked me back home, and I could hardly even contain my excitement. The whole festival took about 4 hours, but it went by like a flash. Everything was so amazing, so beautiful, so dangerous. It was an experience I will never forget. Thank God I get to see it again next year.