Rebirth of Argungu fishing festival as cultural renaissance

After trying unsuccessfully to find a financial sponsor to the international fishing festival on the social media, I set out with low pockets and high spirits. Disappointment from cancellation of plans by my travelling partners, hesitation of approval by my folks, health concerns from the coronavirus and being a day late did nothing to mar […]

After trying unsuccessfully to find a financial sponsor to the international fishing festival on the social media, I set out with low pockets and high spirits.

Disappointment from cancellation of plans by my travelling partners, hesitation of approval by my folks, health concerns from the coronavirus and being a day late did nothing to mar my blazing determination. Nothing, whatsoever, that was said by whosoever worked on me. If I perish, I perish. After all, “all die na die.”

Thursday morning, I set out alone to my longest and farthest journey up North. With friends, it would have been a celebration and fun trip, but alone, it was a journey of discovery.

After bracing several stoppages, countless security checkpoints, thousands of potholes and a faulty tire, I arrived at Birnin Kebbi after 10 hours of a tortuous and uncomfortable journey and 3 hours late. It wasn’t altogether bad, for I got to revel nature at her finest; the sand dunes colored by the Saharan dust and lit by the jubilating scorching sun at its peak, the dry season taking its toll on the landscape, resilient freshwater bodies, the amazing patterns  decorating dried, cracked earth; the dried ponds flowing with fine silts of sand and thousands of beasts of burden roaming the vast stretch of the Sahel vegetation.

I was a tad sad, for I missed that day’s events, making it two days of missed events and activities. But hey, I was there; I made it. Yassin, my host, compensated for the loss of that day’s events and activities by taking me out and treating me to a refreshing hangout that featured wait-for-it grilled fish and tea. Ironic, right? We had a nice evening filled with conversations and meeting new people.

The next morning, we rode back to Argungu town, 41 kilometers from Birnin Kebbi, the capital of Kebbi State. Argungu is one of the oldest towns in northern Nigeria and its fishing festival is one of the largest and biggest in the world, drawing over thousands of fishermen from Kebbi and beyond.

In 2016, it was inscribed on the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO, solidifying its global status as an international event. It is a four-day festival featuring many activities like car race, traditional cultural performances, archery, polo tournament, grand durbar and the grand fishing event, amidst many others.

It is said that the Argungu Fishing Festival predates the conquest of Kanta of Kebbi, around the 16th century and is arguably one of the oldest festivals of riverine communities in Nigeria. It was said that the festival began after the truce between the Fulani and the Kabawa (Kebbi people) to forge friendship and unity between the two tribes. We were sandwiched among excited, old fishermen in an old, rickety car, who chattered about the grand fishing finale to take place the next day. Some had their fishing equipment with them, each wanting to try their luck in scooping the grand prize.

Approaching Argungu town, we encountered a town fully prepared for the festival. The streetlights donned vibrant festive decorations; huge billboards welcoming the president and tourists to the town were at every junction, and fresh paint was visible on trees and selected buildings.

It was a Friday, so nearly everyone was dressed in traditional garb, the males sporting their colourful kaftans while the women wore bright hijabs.

We headed straight to Mala riverside, the festival arena, a few meters from the famous Matan Fada, where the actual fishing takes place. The streets were lined with traders, who obviously popped up just for the festival, making brisk sales, selling anything, from water to footwear and jewellery.

We arrived late, for the mammoth crowd cheering and keenly watching the activities was too big to behold. With much difficulty, I managed to gain entrance into the arena, watching the last of the morning activities. I managed to watch the last few, but nonetheless enthralling activities, such as bare-hand fishing, canoe racing, gourd racing, diving competition, wild duck catching and a cultural display.

Worthy of note is that even women engaged in these activities. Watching the girls race on canoes was amazing and the reaction from spectators was even more amazing. No one frowned at their gender, rather, people commended them for learning life-saving skills, especially those living close to the river.

The activities ended as the time for Jumu’ah drew to a close. Heading to the nearest mosque, our duo became a trio after Yassin bumped into an old schoolmate, who is an indigene of Argungu.

Just by the mosque is this national museum called Gidan Nabame. As we had some time to spare before the prayers, Nasiru, our new buddy, was really helpful in getting us a tour guide.

We were soon immersed in the rich history of Argungu town and the kingdom of Surame. We got to know about the history of the festival – which was started to mark the end of hostilities between the Fulani and the Kabawa.

We took a trip down the royal dynasty of Argungu, unveiled new horizons with the spectacular Hausa/Islamic architecture of the ancient times, visited the tombs of notable kings and noble men, explored the types of crops and fish found in Kebbi, saw the farming and fishing equipment, dazzled by the weapons used to protect the town from conquest, and saw the musical instruments used for wars and entertainment. It was such an eye-opener, giving us deep insights to not only Argungu town, but other notable emirates in northern Nigeria. It was heartwarming to see that Argungu town pride itself in its culture and history, so much that they made conscious efforts in conserving and documenting it.

It was refreshing to witness and experience this socio-cultural festival through Hausa culture. Over the years, Islam has greatly influenced Hausa culture, doing away with unacceptable practices, such as magic, idol worship and animistic display and usurping the good, acceptable traditions.

At Argungu, the display of Hausa cultural practices was rife and thriving, with animistic (Bori) exhibitions and magic displays at the barest minimum. Although the subjugation of culture by Islamic religion is noticeable throughout the festival, it still showed that it is practised by a handful of people in northern Nigeria.

Having said the Friday prayer in a large congregation and filling our brains and bellies with knowledge and food, we headed straight to the grand traditional durbar, which took place at the Polo Field. It was an outstanding display of pomp and grandeur.

The wonderful evening ambience was amplified by an audience that were beside themselves with longing and excitement. The drums, trumpets and traditional chanting of praise songs and incantations added to the electrifying ebb of energy that engulfed the show.

Emirs, Obas, politicians and top government officials were not left out in the exhilaration; they clapped, cheered and stood for the colourful procession of elegantly dressed noblemen and women on foot and decorated horses and camels.

Acrobats, daredevils, magicians and their tricks all added the spectacular display of rich culture and history of Argungu.

Having secured an official tag from Nasiru, we had no difficulty navigating through crowds and security personnel. It was a sight to behold, the mammoth crowd forming human pyramids and reaching unthinkable heights just to catch a glimpse of the show. It was one of the best durbars I have watched in my life. After a thoroughly satisfying and tiring day, we headed back to Birnin Kebbi, calling it a day.

The dawn of the grand finale barely cracked and there we were at Matan Fada, patiently waiting with bated breath to witness the iconic fishing event.

It was a crowd like no other, with drones buzzing overhead and speakers blasting music from all angles. It was so crowded that massive screens were propped up at strategic spots to decongest people from the riverfront.

Just before the fishing commenced, a ritual known as the Gyaran ruwa, literally meaning cleansing or purifying the water, was done, adding to the mystic and awe of the event. It is said that this is done to appease the queen of the river (Bafillatanar ruwa) and seek bumper harvest through offering of libations.

Lined at one side of the river bank were fishermen – young and old – waiting for the signal to jump into the river.

It was reported that about 5,000 fishermen participated in this year’s edition, from all parts of the country. After what seemed like forever, the signal sounded in the form of a gunshot, and it was a beautiful chaos – the spectators outside broke ranks and ran to the waterfront, while the fishermen ran toward the river, chanting and yelling.

The crowd roared and cheered with excitement as the fishermen jumped into the river. In a short while, every inch of the brown, muddy water was covered with gourds, nets, canoes and men, all scrambling for the largest catch.

Then the catches started rolling out. Men with the large catches went to the weighing area amidst cheering procession, while others delved deeper into the river, searching for bigger fishes.

The golden sun glistened on the dark skins of the toiling men, giving a golden reflection of excellence and bravado. Our nostrils were soon filled with the smell of raw blood and condensed odour while our faces basked with trickling sweat from the overhead sun, which was gleefully providing excellent lightening on the stage that was the river and its surroundings.

After an hour or so, few men remained in the river. It was nearly over. Fishes of all sizes were caught by the determined and enthusiastic fishermen-turned-showstoppers.

Somehow, fishing turned into an art performance and we reeled in the sheer and raw beauty of it all in an area filled with a charged audience. My feet ached and longed for rest as I tiptoed and got matched while trying to get a glimpse of the action.

Meanwhile, an impromptu fish market sprang up and raged by the river banks and went as far as the town of Argungu. Fishermen with smaller catches entertained bids from spectators as everyone was eager to take a “souvenir” home.

It was amazing seeing how the festival contributed so much to the economy of Argungu in just four days. Hotels were fully booked, brisk businesses lined up on every road and in every nook of the town. Fishermen, farmers, small and medium businesses all benefitted immensely from the festival. That was a highlight for me, as the government could turn a fishing festival into an avenue of revenue generation and wealth creation amongst its poorest citizens.

The Argungu Fishing Festival, having been suspended for 11 years due to insurgency in the region, returned with a bang. Although the government could have done better in promoting the festival and organising it for the entertainment of all (not just a festival where the poor entertain the rich, as Yassin aptly puts it), it was worth the hype.

Privatisation of some activities, alongside building some much-needed facilities at the festival sites, would go a long way in improving the overall experience of the tourist.

I was impressed with the health measures put in place amidst the COVID-19 pandemic, such as sanitisers that kept going around the festival square and the sensitisation in Hausa language.

The people of Argungu showed up and out, proudly exhibiting their most prized cultural heritage to the world. They were accommodating and friendly, to say the least, and one could see that this festival meant so much to them as it is part of them and their history. That was something no money could buy and no hype could produce. There was so much happiness and positivity in the air that it became contagious. That day, everyone left Argungu fulfilled and satisfied.

I was in the first car out of Birnin Kebbi the next day, eternally grateful to my host for his hospitality, to new friendships forged along the way and to the rekindled bonds between old friends. It was one hell of an experience.

The Argungu Fishing Festival, 2020 was a northern cultural renaissance marking the graceful return of a rich cultural heritage of Kebbi State. It was successful in bringing together, people from all walks of life, united by the love to celebrate excellence and the historical sportsmanship of the Kabawa.

If properly managed, the Argungu Fishing Festival would promote tourism, both in Kebbi State and Nigeria as a whole, while improving the economy and providing the much-needed niche in the diversification of the Nigerian economy.

It sparked the return of not only the local level development of the people, but the spirit of cultural immersion, agricultural revolution and tourism development of not only Kebbi State, but northern Nigeria as whole.

By Salim Yunusa who contributed this piece from Zaria, Kaduna State.