Boys become men in wrestling rituals in Togo

Teenage boys wrestle during the évala rite in Kara. Photo courtesy: Steven Midjola Costa

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In July, thousands of spectators gathered in the mountains of Togo, West Africa, to honour a boyhood-to-manhood rite that the Kabyè people have preserved for generations.

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Every July, the town of Kara, nestled in the mountainous Kozah region of Togo in West Africa becomes the beating heart of a generations-old coming-of-age ritual known as évala.

For nearly a week, the indigenous Kabyè people celebrate the transition of boyhood to manhood which involves a series of traditional wrestling matches between teenage males.

In the most recent edition, which unfolded in the last weekend of July, spectators came from nearby and as far as the capital, Lomé, 400 km away, to witness the traditional festivities.

17-year-old Piyabalo Babana participated, going through the ritual that his father and forefathers performed before he was born. He lives in the village of Kassa, 15 km from Kara.

This will be his third and last time enduring the ritual, which demands teenage males to go through it several times. They must start before their eighteenth birthday.

“For the pride of my culture, I am proud to practice my culture…I feel very happy to fight my opponent,” Babana said.

For him, being a wrestler means honoring his identity, asserting his place in society, and showing that he is ready to represent his community with dignity.

For Babana, every grab of his opponent’s limb and every fall has a meaning that goes far beyond a simple confrontation. Because here, the essential thing is not just to win. Even in defeat, honor remains intact. Being évala means, above all, having the courage to stand before one’s own people, to enter the arena, and to face the challenge.

In this tradition, losing is not a disgrace, but a step on the path to maturity.

Tcharie Essowe, a former wrestler himself, coached Babana. They trained for several days to prepare not only physically, but mentally.

The coming-of-age ritual requires a set of rites to be carried out over the course of a week. Teenage males are separated from their families and subjected to an intense schedule: waking up at dawn to climb the mountains, marching, chanting, singing, dancing, and even sitting in silence. The goal is to build physical endurance, but above all mental strength.

Other methods of preparation involve abstinence from sexual activity, fasting and body scarification.

Coaches like Essowe play a key role. They train, advise, and pass on much more than just techniques — they pass on values. They are the ones who give this struggle its true meaning as a cultural initiation.

“In the morning, we make them do sports. Then we go to the évala field,” Essowe said.

“That way, we don’t warm them up with songs and dances. We sing like that, then we shout, because you have to be motivated to perform the évala rituals. It’s a bit complicated. In the preliminary round, we wrestle. We rank the first ones, then there are four of them. First, second, third. And it’s after that that I rank them at the end of the wrestling.”

On the day of the battle, the town of Kara held its breath. Drums resounded, war chants rang out.

Prayers are prayed, in which ancestors are evoked through libation. The ancestors are represented by clay statues. These statues are immensely important to ensure a safe and successful évala.

Before entering the arena, the teenage males received final words from their clan elders: words of encouragement, instructions, a reminder of the honour they bear.

Elders sprinkled white powder on the bodies of the wrestlers.

The moment of confrontation finally arrived. Babana, proud to represent his people, stood in anticipation, facing his contender. Two wrestlers, two clans, two histories intersect in the area. A fight can be brief or grueling. But no matter the outcome, the community will celebrate the display of courage.

Babana emerged victorious from his duel.

“I feel very proud. The fight was a bit tough. But in the end, I did my best. I knocked him down,” he said.
But the ceremonial transition to manhood is not over.

After the wrestling, he began the kondona, the symbolic walk to the sacred mountain of Saoudé. Up there, in the silence of the highlands, he performed the final rites, received blessings and recognition, and thanked the ancestors for their guidance and protection.

The kondona happens once every five years. It is shrouded in secrecy and closed to the public.

It is at the kondona that the boy truly becomes a man.

More than just a local ritual, the évalas are a celebration of memory, a precious tradition that leaders such as Tcharie Essowe strive to preserve.

The tradition also brings thousands of Kabyè from the diaspora back to Kara to reconnect with their roots. Whether they come from Paris, Lomé, Abidjan, or Montreal, they vibrate with their kinsfolk in a spirit of intergenerational solidarity.

Here, fighting means affirming one’s attachment to the land. It means saying, with pride, “I know where I come from.”

“I want everyone who has come to the country to [witness] in the ceremony. Whether you are Kabyè, or not, whether wrestling in Kabyè country is considered your roots,” Essowe said.

The elders want to ensure that the tradition is passed on, and does not become a legend. They also hope that the youth understand that the ritual is about more than wrestling. It is about cultural language and heritage.

For Jacques Do Kokou, photographer and specialist in the cultural history of Togo, it is essential to document the évalas. His aim is making the tradition understood by the youth to give them a sense of cultural ownership.

“For me, évala should not remain in this folkloric cocoon. This évala, through images, is not the images we see on the 8 o’clock news, but a documentary that documents,” Do Kokou said.

To keep the évalas alive is to honor a pact between generations.

The Kabyè are the second largest ethnic group in Togo, after the Ewe. While agriculture is the backbone of their community, the évala and its wrestling custom have become a pivotal element of Kabyè identity.

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