Ekpe is at a crossroads. What is unfolding in Calabar today is not merely a dispute over masquerade etiquette or ritual infractions; it is a struggle for the soul and survival of one of Africa’s most sophisticated traditional institutions. When a culture begins to argue with itself in public, enforce itself inconsistently, and contradict itself across territories, extinction does not arrive loudly — it creeps in quietly.
NEGROIDHAVEN opines that recent public outcry over Ekpe practices, followed by enforcement notices and counter-claims of authority, has laid bare a deeper crisis: Ekpe no longer speaks with one voice. Different Efes issue decrees, individuals claim titles without shared standards, and sanctions appear selective. In such an atmosphere, confusion becomes inevitable, and confusion is fertile ground for cultural erosion.
Yet unity alone will not save Ekpe if it is accompanied by silence in the wrong places and noise in the wrong ways.
One of the most troubling dimensions of the current debate is how quickly it has become a referendum on Efik women — what they wear, where they stand, how they move, and when they speak. This fixation is historically ironic. Efik women were never passive ornaments of culture; they were traders, power brokers, taste-setters, and custodians of soft power. To reduce them today to symbols of cultural decay is to misread both history and responsibility.
At this juncture NEGROIDHAVEN is forced to remind the cultural participants that culture collapses upward, not downward. When systems fail, it is rarely because the youth were curious or women were visible; it is because elders failed to teach, failed to agree, and failed to enforce coherently. A generation cannot violate rules it was never properly handed.
Equally dangerous is the growing reliance on public shaming as a tool of cultural correction. Shame does not educate; it alienates. It does not preserve tradition; it accelerates rebellion or apathy. Cultures are not transmitted through outrage, viral posts, or social media pile-ons. They are sustained through apprenticeship, patience, and clearly defined authority.
If Ekpe must be protected — and it must — then the custodians must first put their house in order. Titles must mean something again. Jurisdictions must be clarified. Sanctions must be consistent. Instruction must precede punishment. Above all, Ekpe authorities must unify across Efes and territories, not merely to ban or threaten, but to teach, guide, and renew.
History is unforgiving to cultures that mistake noise for power and division for strength. Ekpe cannot survive as a collection of competing voices, wounded egos, and fragmented decrees. It will either re-emerge as a unified institution anchored in clarity and discipline, or it will fade into spectacle — loud, familiar, and ultimately empty.
The choice is stark: unity or extinction.
-Editor
