The Fugu: More Than a Garment

I don’t know exactly where the Smock/Fugu/Batakari originated from in West Africa, but what I do know is that it has been worn ceremonially and traditionally by many ethnic groups across West Africa. In Ghana, it is deeply associated with the people of the northern parts of the country. Different ethnic groups have their own names, styles and ways of weaving it. The fabric used in making the Fugu is one of the defining traditional fabrics of northern Ghana, although you will also see people from the southern parts of Ghana wearing different renditions of it.

One observation I have made, however, is that the Fugu seems to have a different social interpretation when it comes to some people from the south. I think part of this comes from the fact that when you see some traditional priests (okomfo) in southern Ghana come out to chant and dance during traditional ceremonies, they sometimes wear the Fugu. This has, over time, caused some southerners to attach a certain spiritual connotation to the garment.

As a kid, my mom seemed to believe I hated wearing the Fugu. To be fair to the Fugu, I didn’t just like wearing anything “local.” I couldn’t have shown my love for the Fugu in SHS because we wore uniforms, but in the University I wore Fugu to class on a few occasions.

The Fugu has versatile functions. It is worn during traditional events, social gatherings, at home, and even during the Harmattan to protect against the cold. You’ll see people wearing Fugu anywhere in Northern Ghana, regardless of the occasion. The smock has historically served both practical and ceremonial purposes, and its use is not limited to one particular type of event.

When my dad retired from active service, we presented him with a Fugu, and he immediately noted that it was woven in the Wa area. That was fascinating because it showed me that each area and ethnic group has its own unique style of weaving.

In Ghana, the Fugu is an iconic garment. Its traditional significance is widely appreciated, but its political relevance is often overlooked.

One of the most iconic political appearances of the Fugu was during Ghana’s independence declaration at the Old Polo Grounds. Dr. Kwame Nkrumah stood on that historic night in a smock, surrounded by leading figures of the independence movement. Photographs from the occasion have helped cement the Fugu as part of the visual history of Ghana’s independence.

To me, there was something important about that image. The Fugu was not just clothing. It was a statement of national identity. It reminded Ghanaians that the new Ghana was not just the coastal elites. It was the entire country, including the Northern territories.

The Fugu has not always been associated with positive symbolism, however.

In 1982, during the gruesome killing of three High Court judges and a retired army officer, one of the darkest episodes in Ghana’s political history, men involved in the operation were reported to have worn the fugu. Testimony before the National Reconciliation Commission also alleged that the clothing was deliberately used to create the impression that northerners were responsible for the killings.

The Fugu, a garment so closely associated with northern Ghana, had been used in the commission of a horrendous crime, and I can imagine that people from Northern Ghana must have felt the weight of that association.

Former president Jerry John Rawlings also helped popularize the Fugu in Ghanaian politics. As a military leader, he wore his uniform, but as the country transitioned to constitutional rule, he incorporated the Fugu into his wardrobe, often wearing it over a long-sleeve shirt. He wore the garment at political events and official functions, helping make the combination familiar to Ghanaians.

One of the most memorable moments was during Bill Clinton’s visit to Ghana in March 1998. In photographs from that visit, Clinton wore a Kente cloth over his suit while Rawlings appeared in his usual fugu over the long-sleeve shirt.

Former president Nana Akufo-Addo also wore the Fugu at the investiture of Yaa-Naa Abukari Mahama II. He went further by wearing the traditional trousers and boots associated with the Dagbon outfit. His yellow Fugu was not chosen randomly either. Yellow has associations with peace in Dagbon tradition, and the outfit was understood in that context. Of course, some people thought it looked unusual in the photographs. Some angles made the former president look very, very funny.

Recently, however, it has been heartwarming to see Ghanaians proudly display their culture, especially after President John Dramani Mahama visited Zambia.

The president arrived in Lusaka wearing a Fugu during his official visit, and photographs of his outfit generated a lot of discussion on social media, including mockery from some Zambian users. Ghanaians responded by defending the garment and what it represented. The government subsequently designated Wednesdays as Fugu Day, encouraging Ghanaians to wear the garment and celebrate local culture.

I went to Wa a week after that directive. To be honest, I never thought too much about the directive to wear Fugu on Wednesdays. I didn’t think people would actually pay any attention to it.

Boy, was I wrong.

Like I mentioned earlier, people wear Fugu up north every day, so when I first saw people on that Wednesday wearing their Fugu, it didn’t really click. But after a few hours in Wa, it just clicked that naa, it looks like there is more than the normal number of Fugu-wearing people today.

Then I saw a post online and remembered: ohh, it’s the President’s directive on Fugu.

There was something beautiful about seeing a garment that I had grown up seeing everywhere suddenly become a national statement.

The reaction from some Zambians also made me think about how colonialism has affected the way Africans sometimes perceive African culture. We have been conditioned, in many ways, to understand Western suits, ties and dresses as the default symbols of formality, while our own traditional clothing can sometimes be viewed as something reserved for festivals or ceremonies.

When the King of Eswatini visited Ghana wearing his traditional attire, we understood it immediately. We recognized that this is how he represents his people.

Perhaps that is what made the whole Fugu episode so interesting to me.

West Africans, in particular, have a deep sense of Pan-African identity, and I think we sometimes forget just how powerful that connection can be. I also think there is still a lot of work to be done across Africa in understanding and appreciating each other’s cultures beyond the superficial.

For me, I am just happy that the Fugu is getting such enormous recognition.

The Fugu is more than a garment.

It is history.It is identity.It is politics.It is pride.

And for me, it is also a little reminder of home.