April 11, 2025, shall remain an indelible imprint upon the annals of memory for all who had the rare privilege of witnessing the crescendo of the Theology Conference Week at the Catholic Institute of West Africa, Port Harcourt. From the blush of dawn to the eventide’s embrace, the air pulsed with the majestic rhythm of Africa’s splendour—her theological riches, cultural profundity, and ancestral elegance.

On this climactic day, the soil of CIWA bore the footprints of many nations—Nigeria, Ghana, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Cameroon, and the dazzling Cote d'Ivoire. These diverse tribes did not merely gather; they converged in a sacred symposium of harmony, weaving an ares  of tradition that was as rich as it was refined, as vibrant as it was venerable.

The Chapel of Our Lady of the Holy Rosary stood resplendent, a beacon of sacred artistry and architectural grace, now fully electrified and exuding not merely light, but an ethereal glow—a divine effulgence of worshippers cloaked in reverence. The Mass was a solemn blend of voices, the choir resounding with the polyphonic heartbeat of Mother Africa, a continent groaning with grace and grooved in glory.

Presiding at the Mass was the Rt Revd Monsignor Emmanuel Maru, representing the Apostolic Administrator of Port Harcourt Diocese, His Lordship Most Revd Patrick Eluke. The homily, delivered by the Registrar, Revd Fr Wilson Akhigbe, did not merely echo—it soared. It soared like an eagle of revelation, capturing the hearts of the gathered with its eloquent exegesis and spiritual fire. And when the venerable Rector,  Very Rev'd Fr. Prof. Jude Abidemi Asanbe, came  for his final remarks and the rite of closure, his words were not mere statements—they were benedictions, stamping divine finality upon the sacred scroll of the week’s solemn proceedings.

But the story did not end there.

What followed was a cultural fiesta of such sublime magnificence that even angels, one suspects, must have paused their heavenly choirs in reverent admiration. This was no mere performance—it was a grand transplantation of civilizations, a ritual of rhythm and radiance. The BEDY Cultural Group—an illustrious union of Bayelsa, Edo, Delta, and Yoruba traditions—invaded the stage with ancestral swagger and theatrical majesty. Their dance was not choreography alone—it was an embodied history, a living archive of communal memory spun in movement and drumbeats that roared like thunder and whispered like incense.

Then came the Ndigbo. Their entrance was not just dramatic—it was seismic. They shook the soul of the arena with a force that was as ancestral as it was awe-inspiring. Yet, amidst this tremor of tribal power, there lay a bedrock of unity, a binding thread of shared identity. The North-Middle Belt ensemble followed, and in their procession, one could have sworn that the revered Ata of Idah had descended in full regalia. The BEDY had invoked the Oba; the North-Middle Belt summoned the elders of the hills.

And then came AKUACRIB—the very soul of CIWA’s home culture. In their display was not just the familiar, but the transcendent—a fragrance of the known, exalted in liturgical finesse and cultural pride.

The International Communities crowned the day, robed in kaleidoscopic garments of inculturation, each group a living epistle of global Catholicism meeting African heritage. Their dances sparkled like fire that purifies rather than consumes. When they offered their baskets and bowls of aromatic cuisines to the Rector and his team, it was no longer mere tradition—it had ascended to the realm of  momentary "sacrament". It was a covenantal exchange, a communion of cultures, a poetic affirmation that theology and tradition can dance in dignified union. One imagines that even Queen Elizabeth, in all her imperial poise, would have found this moment magnificently irresistible.

Indeed, every group carried not just costumes, but legacies. They bore with them sacred stories, ancestral dreams, and tribal visions. The sequence—seamless, synchronized, splendid—testified that Africa is not merely the cradle of civilization but the cathedral of divine artistry, and CIWA stands as its hallowed altar of inculturation.

And anchoring this grand procession of grace and grandeur was the inimitable Master of Ceremonies, Fr. Okhueleigbe Osemhantie Ãmös. With a voice like velvet thunder and a presence that conducted the atmosphere like a maestro, he shepherded the flow with eloquence, humour, and unflinching composure. He did not merely guide the programme—he embodied its rhythm.

Though the sun had long set, the hearts of all present continued to blaze with the fire of the day’s joy. And as the Rector, with a countenance alight with hope, declared that this festival of faith and culture would not be a solitary spectacle but a perennial pilgrimage, the cheers of the audience crowned the day with jubilation.

To all who missed this sacred spectacle: mark your calendars. April 2026 beckons. And to those who were present—carry its light, its laughter, its lessons. For what we witnessed was not just a celebration. It was a revelation.