In the first light of September, when the Glidji lagoon veils itself in a light mist and the centuries-old silk-cotton trees quiver under the wind's caress, something shifts. The drums awaken, a deep and distant pulse like the heartbeat of the earth itself. Then a second beat, a third. Within an hour, the entire village resonates to the rhythm of the agbadja, and the red-earth paths fill with figures draped in white. Epe-Ekpe has begun.
Epe-Ekpe is not a festival in the Western sense. It is not a tourist attraction, even if travelers from Lomé, Accra and sometimes Europe now attend. It is the most sacred moment of the Guin calendar: the annual ceremony in which the high priests consult the divinities to read the omens for the coming year. A door opens between the visible and the invisible, and the entire Guin-Mina people holds its breath.
The origins of Epe-Ekpe: a migration, a stone, a pact
To understand Epe-Ekpe, one must go back to the century of migrations. The Guin, a branch of the Ewe people, left the Accra region at the beginning of the 17th century under the leadership of King Foli Bebe. They crossed the Volta River, followed the coast, and eventually settled in the lagoon area that would become Glidji, around 1680. Oral tradition recounts that Foli Bebe did not travel alone: he carried sacred objects, including a stone wrapped in white cloth, inherited from the ancestors of Notsé.
This stone is the Kpessosso. It is not a simple pebble. In Guin cosmogony, it is the receptacle of a spiritual power inherited from the founders, a tangible link with the ancestors who still guide the community. Each year, at the precise moment decided by the priests through consultation of the stars and divinities, the stone is extracted from its sanctuary for interrogation. The colors it reveals, the signs that can be read upon it, determine the omens for the twelve months ahead.
Epe-Ekpe is thus far more than a celebration: it is an act of spiritual governance. For three days, profane time is suspended. Economic activities cease. Conflicts are set aside. The people gather around their Hunon priests and their kings to receive instructions from the invisible.
The sacred stone ritual: three days between two worlds
The unfolding of Epe-Ekpe follows an immutable protocol, passed down from generation to generation without ever being recorded in writing. The knowledge is held by the high priests and guardians of tradition, who reveal its stages to initiates according to a learning calendar that can span decades.
The first day is one of preparation. Dignitaries purify themselves in the lagoon before dawn. Offerings are placed in the shrines: kola nuts, palm gin, white cloths, roosters sacrificed according to ritual. The drums begin to beat, announcing to the people that sacred time has begun. In the sacred forest of Be-Glidji, the Hunon priests begin their invocations to the 41 divinities of the Guin pantheon.
The second day is one of waiting. The crowd gathers before the sanctuary where the Kpessosso sacred stone rests. The singing intensifies. Dances become more frantic. Women, dressed in white cloths, sing ancient melodies whose lyrics, in the Mina language, recount the story of the migration and the alliance with the divinities. No one knows exactly when the stone will be presented; it is for the priests to judge, according to the signs they perceive, that the moment has come.
The third day, at the peak of collective tension, the stone appears. Carried by the high priests in an immaculate cloth, it is exposed to the crowd. The silence that follows is of an almost unbearable density. The priests examine the stone: its color, its texture, the marks that may have appeared since the previous year. Every nuance holds meaning. White announces peace and prosperity. Red warns of danger, an epidemic, a conflict. Black evokes the anger of the ancestors and the need for reconciliation ceremonies.
The reading of the stone is followed by a public declaration, often enigmatic, which the elders will interpret in the following weeks. Then the drums resume, this time in an explosion of joy: the Guin New Year is proclaimed. Families exchange wishes, share the ritual meal of corn and lagoon fish, and children receive the blessing of the elders.
Glidji, theater of the sacred
Epe-Ekpe is inseparable from its place. Glidji, the spiritual kingdom of the Guin, is not a simple village: it is a land charged with history and power. Founded around 1680, it houses the most important shrines of the Guin-Mina people. Its centuries-old silk-cotton trees, its shaded clearings where priests withdraw to meditate, the lagoon that borders it like a silver mirror: everything in Glidji breathes the sacred.
For the visitor, access to Glidji during Epe-Ekpe is a privilege that demands respect for strict rules. No photography within the sacred enclosure without explicit permission. No indecent attire: shoulders and knees must be covered. No excessive noise, no misplaced gestures. The keepers of tradition enforce these rules with firm kindness. Those who observe them receive in return a welcome of rare generosity, with shared food, patient explanations and sometimes invitations to approach the ceremonies.
Living Epe-Ekpe today: between tradition and modernity
Epe-Ekpe has survived German colonization, the French mandate, Togo's independence and the upheavals of globalization. This may be its most remarkable strength: adaptability without compromise. Each year, the ceremony attracts more visitors, including members of the Guin diaspora returning from Ghana, Cote d'Ivoire, France or Germany to reconnect with their roots.
Social media have made their entry, but in a controlled manner: young Guin film certain authorized sequences and share them online, creating a digital bridge between tradition and the connected generation. The elders have accepted this evolution, aware that Epe-Ekpe's survival also depends on its ability to tell its story to the outside world, as long as the heart of the ritual remains shielded from indiscreet eyes.
For the traveler wishing to attend Epe-Ekpe, preparation is essential. The ceremony is usually held between late August and early September, the exact date being communicated a few weeks in advance by the traditional authorities. The journey from Lomé takes about two hours by car. The nearest accommodations are in central Aného, twenty minutes by moto-taxi. It is strongly recommended to go through an accredited local guide, who will facilitate contacts with the keepers of tradition and explain the codes to respect.
Epe-Ekpe is not a performance. It is an experience of the order of contemplation and silent participation in something that transcends the individual. Those who come seeking sensation leave disappointed. Those who come with humility and respect emerge transformed.
The colors and their interpretation
The reading of the Kpessosso stone relies on a chromatic code that has never been written down. Three primary colors structure the divination, but the system is far more nuanced than a simple three-way choice.
Bright white announces a year of peace, prosperity and good harvests. It is the color most hoped for, greeted with an explosion of drums and celebration. A yellowish or cream white tempers the optimism: prosperity will come, but with challenges that the community must face collectively. Red is the color of warning. Depending on its intensity, it can signal a threat to the harvest, a risk of conflict, an epidemic risk. A rust-colored red is less alarming than a blood red. Black is the most dreaded. It speaks of the anger of the ancestors, of major dangers requiring purification ceremonies. Brown is a variant of black, less serious, signaling a period of mourning or necessary reflection.
Only the most experienced Hunon priests can interpret these nuances. Their apprenticeship lasts decades precisely because the palette goes far beyond these categories: the surface of the stone can present marbling, striations, patches where multiple colors coexist. Each configuration has meaning within a hermeneutic tradition transmitted orally since the 17th century.
The seven days of purification
Before the stone is presented to the crowd, the high priests observe a strict seven-day retreat. During this period, they abstain from certain foods — notably red meat and palm oil — sleep in the sanctuary itself, and multiply their invocations to the 41 divinities of the Guin pantheon. Each morning, they purify themselves in the lagoon before dawn. Each evening, they offer libations of palm gin to the warrior ancestors. This retreat is not a symbolic formality: the priests believe that any impurity, any negligence during these seven days, can alter the reading of the stone and lead the community astray for an entire year.
The economic impact of Epe-Ekpe
For Glidji and Aneho, Epe-Ekpe is not only a spiritual event. It is the economic highlight of the year. In the weeks leading up to the ceremony, moto-taxis multiply their fares, market vendors stock up, guesthouses fill up. The diaspora who return from abroad inject significant sums into the local economy. A study conducted by students from the University of Lome in 2019 estimated that the ceremony generates several tens of millions of FCFA in direct and indirect revenue for the Lacs 1 municipality. This economic dimension is never mentioned in the official discourse of the traditional authorities, but everyone knows it: Epe-Ekpe keeps Glidji alive.
A testimony: what it feels like to attend
I arrived in Glidji at dawn on the second day. The fog was still clinging to the lagoon. I had been told to wear white and speak only when spoken to. The drums had been beating since the night before, and the earth itself seemed to vibrate under my feet. When the priests finally emerged from the sanctuary carrying the stone, wrapped in its white cloth, a silence fell that I will never forget. Thousands of people held their breath. A baby cried once, then stopped, as if sensing the gravity of the moment. The stone was unveiled. The crowd gasped. I could not see the colors from where I stood, but the reaction told me everything I needed to know. The priests conferred for what seemed like an eternity. Then the drums exploded, and I understood: the year would be good. An old woman next to me, whom I had never met, took my hand and smiled. Epe-Ekpe had spoken.
Epe-Ekpe among Africa's great festivals
Epe-Ekpe belongs to a family of African New Year ceremonies that mark the renewal of time through divination. The Ashanti of Ghana celebrate Odwira, a harvest and purification festival. The Yoruba of Nigeria have Ifa divination during the New Yam Festival. The Dogon of Mali consult the fox's traces in the sand to predict the coming year. What distinguishes Epe-Ekpe is its absolute focus on a single object — the Kpessosso stone — making it one of the few oracular traditions on the continent centered on lithomancy, the divination through stones. This specificity makes it of exceptional interest to anthropologists of religion, even if the secrecy surrounding the ritual has prevented any truly comprehensive academic study.
The stone, the people and time
The stone, the people and time
There is something deeply moving in the permanence of Epe-Ekpe. While colonial empires have collapsed, while the ideologies of the 20th century have disappeared, while spiritual fashions succeed each other at a frantic pace, the Guin of Glidji continue to gather each year around a stone passed down by their ancestors over three centuries ago.
This is not superstition. This is not folklore. It is a system of meaning that has allowed a people to navigate the worst trials of African history without losing its identity or cohesion. The Kpessosso stone is not an idol: it is a mirror that the Guin people hold up to themselves to remember who they are, where they come from, and where they are going.
Epe-Ekpe reminds us that time is not a straight line but a circle. That the ancestors are not truly gone. And that once a year, in Glidji, between the lagoon and the sacred forest, it is still possible to hear them speak.
