7Devotees in white clothing line the riverbank, praying as they carry offerings of fruit, kola nut and sacrificial animals in supplication to Osun, the Yoruba goddess of fertility, beauty and healing, whose carved form stands with arms outstretched a few metres away in the Osun River.
It is the final day of Nigeria’s annual Osun Osogbo festival in honour of the African deity, in a tradition that has existed for hundreds of years and draws people from across the diaspora.
Except this year the water was once again a discoloured brown. Until 2018, the river ran clear, but then mining several miles upstream began to pollute it, introducing heavy metals and sediment into the watercourse.
The river, named after the goddess, runs through the Osun-Osogbo sacred grove, a 75-hectare (185-acre) Unesco world heritage site since 2005. The water is believed to possess healing powers and women who have trouble conceiving, or people in search of promotion or prosperity, often come to pray at the riverbank; the water is drunk or used for bathing, depending on the “directions” of the goddess.
Yemi Elebuibon, a writer who is also the chief Ifá priest of Osogbo, is among those who have been campaigning against the mining and pollution.
“What we are telling them [those running the mining operations] is for them to turn the mining in another direction so it can stop polluting Osun. Osun is naturally pure; it should not be polluted,” he says.
Osun is a gold-rich state in Nigeria, where small-scale and artisanal miners often operate illegally due to lax enforcement. When they dig for gold along the 132-mile (213km) river, they let the runoff leach back into the water, polluting it.
In 2021, Urban Alert, a social and environmental justice group, launched a #SaveOsunRiver campaign and commissioned independent testing of the water, drawing samples from six locations along the river. The tests confirmed there were unsafe levels of lead, mercury and cyanide, which are especially dangerous to children and pregnant women.
The authorities responded by arresting prospectors and closing some illegal mining sites, but campaigners say there has been no remediation plan, no independent verification, and no measurable improvement in water quality.
Fashola Osungbemi Oladepo, an Osun priest, says he is concerned about the pollution of the river, which is central to their traditions and the festival.
“We’ve been complaining to the government, but it has to do with the state’s economy,” he says.
New mining sites have sprung up, including one less than four miles from the grove, Urban Alert says.
“That gap between announcement and action is itself part of the story,” says Anthony Adejuwon, Urban Alert’s founder and team lead.
Although the authorities publicised the fact that water was unsafe for drinking before this year’s festival, many devotees continued to drink it.
“We see it as an herbal concoction; it is not ordinary water to us. Any harmful substance in it has been removed by Osun,” says one devotee, Yeye Omifunto Ojo.
Some worshippers and tourists arrived with kegs and bottles to take the river water home.
Adejuwon says the contamination puts devotees in an impossible position between honouring a centuries-old tradition and facing real health risks that threaten the continuity of a living heritage practice at a site the world has formally recognised as globally significant.
The contamination also poses great risks to the wider environment and aquatic species. Sekinat Ojeniyi, an analyst at the business consultancy Africa Practice, notes that heavy metals persist in river sediments, accumulate in fish and aquatic vegetation, and biomagnify – whereby pollutants accumulate up the food chain – meaning their ecological impacts can continue long after mining ceases.
“This has implications not only for public health, but also for aquatic biodiversity, fisheries and the long-term economic resilience for communities that rely on the river ecosystem,” she says.
Devotees travel to the festival from across Nigeria and the diaspora, including Brazil, Cuba and the United States, regarding it as a pilgrimage. But the unsafe water represents a profound loss for practitioners, not only an environmental one.
The ceremonies also attract tourists. Pippa Mistry-Norman, from London, had been planning her trip this year for six months because the idea of a goddess who grants wishes appealed to her.
“A couple of my friends are Nigerian, and I sit opposite them every day. They have such a rich, deep and spiritual culture and I wanted to experience it first-hand, but you can’t do that from the office in London,” the 33-year-old says.
During last year’s festival, Osunfunmito Eyeyemi, 31, prayed to the goddess for a property and a car. This year, she returned to show her appreciation, having achieved everything she prayed for.
“Here I am to give my own testimony because I am now a landlady and I drive my own car,” she says. “There is nothing you ask [Osun] that she will not do for you.”
Experts say the government must show political will to tackle the contamination of the Osun by tightening its enforcement measures.
“They must not wait until it is too late, when the impact starts to reflect on people’s health. The authorities must independently characterise and map the full extent of the contamination along the river, which would give way for a comprehensive, time-bound and well-funded remediation plan. The remediation cannot happen if mining does not stop,” Adejuwon says.
“A gold deposit can be mined over decades; a living cultural landscape that has evolved over more than 700 years cannot simply be restored once its ecological and spiritual integrity has been compromised,” adds Ojeniyi.
