Photo Credit: Niyi Fagbemi/Instagram
Every year, the Ojude Oba festival, among numerous photos and sights, renders one iconic photo that captivates the internet. Last year, it was the photo of Farooq Oreagba that earned him the title “King of Steeze”, flaunting his arm tattoo, a cigar in his mouth, and riding on horseback with striking grace. Since then, public interest in the festival has surged. It now draws thousands of attendees, including non-indigenes of Ijebu and Ogun State. Those who couldn’t attend were eager for that one image that would once again steal the internet’s heart.
This year, many would agree that it was Morenike Osifeso who claimed that spotlight. Her warmth and composure radiated through countless photographs taken at the festival. Riding calmly on horseback, her robe blended effortlessly with her presence, creating a visual peace that resonated across timelines.
One of the highlights of Ojude Oba is its inclusivity. Unlike many cultural festivals in Nigeria, women play visible and central roles—from elegantly riding horses to showcasing the artistry of luxurious aso ofi. Last year, Princess Adesile was one of the standout horse riders. This demonstrates how the festival not only honours tradition but also uplifts the visibility and agency of women within that tradition. Though Ojude Oba may have been founded by men–by a king, especially–women’s strong participation today reflects that cultural heritage can evolve without losing its essence.
Speaking of evolution, Ojude Oba has gained widespread attention, with celebrities, diasporans, and younger generations travelling down to reconnect with family and culture. Lil Kesh was present this year, alongside other public figures. Although Ojude Oba remains rooted in tradition, it is now also many things: a fashion exhibition, a family reunion, and a soft power statement of cultural pride. It is a place where heritage meets modernity, embodying both the continuity and reinvention of Yoruba traditions.
Farooq Oreagba, in BellaNaija’s exclusive interview, remarked, “People are taking an interest in what we do, the younger generations.” Cultural exportation has become a form of soft power for economic and social growth across the world. Countries are increasingly modernising their heritage, curating it for tourism and global curiosity, without erasing its core. They understand that the best way to preserve culture is to open it up and make it accessible, not by gatekeeping, but by thoughtful adaptation. South Korea, through their movies, export its culture to various people in the world. In Côte d’Ivoire, the Ivorians are exporting their cultural meals and traditions through the FEMUA festival.
Meanwhile, Ojude Oba’s growing popularity has raised concerns about future dilution. Some cultural critics worry that an influx of celebrities and influencers may turn the festival from a space of cultural reverence into one of mere spectacle. While visibility is welcome, there’s a thin line between sincere participation and just performativity. The fear is that, in chasing aesthetics and virality, the rituals and meanings that anchor Ojude Oba may be reduced to the background. The challenge now lies in ensuring the heart of the festival remains intact, even as it evolves into a global cultural moment.
But we must also admit that Ojude Oba is bigger now, and rightfully so. Its doors should be open to all who want to witness and honour the beauty of Yoruba culture. As long as its guardians stay intentional about preserving its traditions and meaning, there is room for everyone. Growth and preservation can coexist.
