When the gods visited PUNCH - Punch Newspapers

When the Ulaga masquerade stormed the event venue, I knew there was trouble. And there was. No sooner had it entered the hall than it began twitching, dancing wildly and hitting its black head against the floor, stirred by the spirit of the Oghene Nso drumbeat. Everyone watched in wonder. I ran for cover. Because, frankly, nothing had prepared me for this at a company event. Earlier, we had sat in the beautifully decorated gym hall when an emissary approached me and whispered: “MD is outside. He wants you to join him in dancing into the hall.” Together with other members of management, we hurried out to join our big boss, Dr Joseph Adeyeye. The Editor, PUNCH Digital (EPD), Olalekan Adetayo, was ahead. I tailed. The Production General Manager, Olayinka Popoola, aka Pops, joined. Outside, a spectacle awaited. Joel Nwokeoma, leader of the Igbo community in PUNCH, was wrestling ferocious rhythms out of the drums. Metro Editor, Joel Nwokeoma and Advert Executive, Mary Ubani, doing the Igbo traditional entrance dance     Photos: Stanley Ogidi and Elliot Ovadje Dr Adeyeye, who recently bagged his PhD from Oyinbo land — a place called London where they say the king of the white men lives — was resplendent in a flowing white kaftan. His sparse white beard complemented the all-white ensemble, completing the dignified look. With his hands gently raised and a subtle smile playing on his face, he traded steps with Mazi Nwokeoma, who was draped in Igbo attire and a matching chieftaincy cap. Last year, Dr Adeyeye was installed as the Mazi Nwannedimba 1 na PUNCH (Friend of the Igbo community) in lavish traditional rites conducted by Nwokeoma. The details of that ceremony left me wondering who exactly Mazi Nwokeoma was. A pastor or the chief priest of an Ohaji-Egbema shrine? Anyway, back to the dance. We joined the procession as the Igbo troupe regaled us with one traditional song after another. Feet shuffled. Shoulders rolled. Hands went into the air. Those who could dance danced. The rest of us simply tried not to disgrace our ancestors. Manager, Corporate Services, Temitope Olusesan-Biala, leading the Hausa group in a presentation Eventually, we danced our way into the hall, and the event itself, Rep Your Tribe, began. It was the fifth edition of PUNCH’s annual celebration of our cultural diversity. On this day, suits and ties surrender. Everyone turns up in traditional attire. Ethnic groups prepare their local delicacies. Music and dance take over the premises. Outstanding staff are celebrated and rewarded with gifts. L-R: Manager, Corporate Services, Temitope Olusesan-Biala; Editor, Weekend Titles, Samson Folarin; Editor, PUNCH Digital, Olalekan Adetayo; Production General Manager, Olayinka Popoola; Executive Director, Business and Innovation, Wunmi Tunde-Obe; Chairman, Angela Emuwa; Managing Director/Editor-in-Chief, Dr Joseph Adeyeye; Company Secretary, Omolara Ogunleye; Chief Accountant, Olalekan Akowonjo; Advert Manager, Kemi Ogungbemi; Auditor, Gbenga Okunlade; and Head, Finance and Admin, PUNCH Media Foundation, Gbenga Bambeke Usually, that is the highlight. But this year, something else was waiting. We had barely settled after the introduction by the two masters of ceremony when an announcement came. A masquerade was coming. “Don’t be scared. This masquerade knows its job description,” the energetic Head of Corporate Services, Temitope Olusesan-Biala, said. Job description for a masquerade? Are we not mixing things up, I wondered. The Ulaga masquerade Then the towering figure appeared at the entrance. For a moment, it seemed too tall for the hall itself. The doorway was too short, forcing the Ulaga to bow its elongated black headdress before squeezing through as traditional beats thundered around the room. Then it straightened. What a sight. Long strands of natural-coloured raffia cascaded from its shoulders to the floor, forming a wild, cape-like covering. Beneath the raffia was a bright red costume patterned with patches of gold, silver and turquoise reflective material. Sequins, beads and metallic ornaments caught the light each time it twisted. Editor, Weekend Titles, Samson Folarin; Deputy Editor, The PUNCH, Tana Aiyejina; Editor, PUNCH HealthWise, Angela Onwuzoo It glittered. It swayed. It towered above us. And leading this creature into the hall was none other than Mazi Nwokeoma. At this point, my earlier question about his precise spiritual constituency became urgent. A pastor or a chief priest? The EPD thought it was the latter. “If he were not a journalist, I am sure he would have turned a dibia. Chief Priest Nwokeoma!” he added with humour, as we both dissolved into laughter. But Mazi Nwokeoma is a deeply cultural man. He does not joke with his traditional values and proudly showcases them. Little wonder he was voted the first Cultural Ambassador of PUNCH.See more Punch stories on Google.Add Punch on Google Back to the Ulaga. Mazi Nwokeoma directed the masquerade’s movement as camera phones went up and people craned their necks. Then something happened. The masquerade began twitching. The movements grew more vigorous with the pounding drumbeat. Then: Gbam! It slammed its head on the floor. And rose. Gbam! Again. I shifted in my seat. Adetutu Sobowale being decorated as the 2026 Cultural Ambassador (Female) This was not in the job description Mrs Olusesan-Biala advertised. The masquerade twisted, lunged and struck its head against the floor, again and again. I genuinely wondered whether our guest had abandoned the approved programme and entered the spirit realm. As the frenzy wore on, a member of the troupe moved closer to it, apparently to say the performance was over. The Ulaga seemed to take the cue, bent its imposing frame and disappeared through the same entrance. The hall erupted in applause. I exhaled. Clothes, colours and cultural swagger Everyone came fully prepared in their best attire. Among the men, no one matched Pelumi Okeowo, the male compere, who emerged the best-dressed male. L-R: Contestants for Best Dressed (Male): Olalekan Akowonjo, Pelumi Okeowo, Godspower Otor, Paul Olayanju, Ayoola Olasupo and Adebayo Adewale He wore a pristine white agbada with matching bùbá and sòkòtò, a red fìlà, long black beads, glittering black loafers and a walking stick. The female category was more fiercely contested. A bevy of PUNCH ladies paraded the hall like contestants at a Miss World pageant. But Christabel Ndoeche stood out. In a burgundy ensemble with a gold-patterned corset bodice and a dramatic floor-length skirt, a black horsetail-style accessory across one shoulder and coral beads at her neck and wrists, she looked as if Elizabethan royalty had entered the building. Besides, she was the candidate of the EPD, who had waived his leave rights to attend the occasion. Contestants for Best Dressed (Female): Christabel Ndoeche, Adetutu Sobowale, Temitope Adetunji, Kemi Smith, Adedoyin Adedugbe, Oluwaseyi Adewuyi and Mercy Eboigbe I had declared her winner the moment she stepped out. Pops also supported her candidature. As far as we were concerned, everything else was a mere formality. Adetutu Sobowale (female) and Idowu Abdullahi (male) were also crowned the company’s Cultural Ambassadors. Moyin finds ‘husband’ Nigeria @66: PUNCH celebrates independence, harps on unity PUNCH’s transformation journey earns HR industry recognition Anambra community celebrates New Yam festival, targets devt I had heard stories of people attending events and unexpectedly getting engaged. But I never imagined I would witness anything resembling one inside the strict corporate environment of PUNCH. Enter Moyin. As part of the contest, the ladies were to catwalk down the aisle. The comperes, Moyin Olajide and Pelumi Okeowo, serenading participants Simple enough. All seven did just that until it was her turn. Moyin, our female compere, decided that ordinary catwalking was for amateurs. She took a gourd of palm wine from Mazi Nwokeoma, gave him her handbag and began surveying the men in the hall. One after another. Slowly. Deliberately. Suddenly, Rep Your Tribe had become Find Your Husband. I stared, open-mouthed. Is this really happening? If you know Moyinoluwa, you know she is one of PUNCH’s adorable belles. That day, she radiated in red. The shimmering gown, the coral-style jewellery and the poise said it all. She was smashing. She knew and flaunted it. She strutted around the hall, palm wine in hand, meeting the longing eyes of men who suddenly seemed far more interested in this cultural tradition than they had been five minutes earlier. I watched her approach. For one brief moment, I thought she was coming my way. Come, oh gentle lady, come, a strange music  echoed in my mind. But no. She paused, then passed. It was the tall, ebony-polished Pelumi she chose. Pelumi received the cup with the composure of a man who had rehearsed for this moment all his life. He took a sip. Then stuffed some cash into the cup. Ah! This looks real! The hall exploded. Moyin and Pelumi walked arm in arm, her hand resting affectionately on his forearm. Cheers, laughter and applause followed them back to the stage. Within minutes, it had been christened the “PUNCH engagement”. Then, the Executive Director, Business and Innovation, Mrs Wunmi Tunde-Obe, Pelumi’s godmother, endorsed it. Case closed. What a show! The food As the day wore on, management was invited to assess the dishes prepared by the Igbo and Yoruba groups. The Igbo table offered  Akpu asuru asu (pounded fufu), Ofe Oha (oha soup), Anyara, Oji and Ose oji (egg plant, kola nut and kola nut butter),  Ugba (oil bean salad) and Abacha ( the famous african salad). Beside them was a blue keg of palm wine. The Yoruba table featured mostly Ijebu delicacies: Ifokore with cold Eba, Ekuru, Obe Egusi, Efo, Eja Dindin (fried fish) and Ede (fried crayfish). The Yoruba group showcasing mouth-watering delicacies at the event Behind us were plates of ofada rice, eggs and sauce, courtesy of the company. I looked at the sumptuous spread. My mouth watered. Judging was going to be a heavy responsibility. Rep Your Tribe goes digital But Rep Your Tribe wasn’t only about culture and food. An in-house app built by a group of management staff was unveiled. It carried the programme of activities, photographs from past editions and, importantly, let staff vote in real time. Culture had gone digital. The builders were Gbenga Bambeke, Omolara Ogunleye, Rebecca Erureh and Temitope Olusesan-Biala. Staff of the Quarter, and one final surprise The event gradually moved towards a close with the recognition of staff who had distinguished themselves in the last three months. Those honoured were Deborah Kolawole of The PUNCH, Ismaeel Uthman of Weekend Titles, Saheed Oyelakin of PUNCH Digital and Michael Omadime of Production. Each received a prize, a letter of commendation and a plaque before shaking hands with the Chairman, Mrs Angela Emuwa. Their photos would also be at the company’s reception. It was a proud moment. In his closing remarks, Dr Joseph commended everyone for their efforts. He particularly praised the new app, adding that it was the first of several innovations in the works. A beautiful ending to a beautiful day. Or so I thought. Then came another announcement: “The masquerade wants to give a closing performance.” Again? I looked towards the entrance. Sure enough, there it was. Our towering friend was back. The drums ushered it in. And almost immediately, the vigorous dancing resumed. Shortly afterwards, we were invited to join it on the dance floor. I looked at Pops. Pops looked at the masquerade. “Láyé! I will not,” he declared in Yoru-English, with a holy frown. He shook his head vigorously to affirm his stance. For once, the GM and I were in editorial agreement. I refused too. From our seats, we watched the Ulaga twist and slam its head against the floor. People cheered. Phones recorded. The drums thundered. The masquerade danced. Every one of us kept a safe, respectful distance from the ancestral realm. That was how Rep Your Tribe 2026 ended. And as I watched the masquerade deliver its final headbutt, one thought crossed my mind: Mrs Olusesan-Biala was right after all. The Ulaga knew its job description. I was the one who hadn’t read it. Samson Folarin

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