Wednesday is Fugu Day

On a state visit to Zambia, Ghanaian president John Dramani Mahama unwittingly sparked a fashion internet trend featuring traditional attire. Some hope the revival can move Ghana away from dependency on secondhand clothing imports.

Mahama met with the Zambian president in February to sign a visa-free travel agreement between the two countries. But what people can’t stop talking about is what he was wearing: fugu, a traditional smock made in northern Ghana. Next to the Zambian president’s suit and tie, the blue and yellow stripes of the loose-fitting smock got the attention of Zambian internet users, who made jokes in social media posts about the “maternity blouse.”

Ghanaians quickly rose to fugu’s defense, starting a social media trend of beginning posts with “Hello Zambia” and sharing photos of their fugu smocks while explaining their cultural significance.

Within a week, Ghana’s Ministry of Tourism, Culture and Creative Arts issued a statement encouraging all Ghanaians and friends of Ghana to “dedicate every Wednesday to the wearing of Fugu (Batakari), in all its diverse forms, designs, and expressions, complemented by its distinction and beautiful accessories.” In compliance with the statement, many companies with corporate dress codes now permit fugu on Wednesdays.

“It makes me feel connected to where I come from,” says Accra businessman Wango Abdul Karim.

For office worker Andrews Tetteh Zutah, fugu isn’t just a question of heritage. It’s also comfortable. He’d be happy to wear it seven days a week. “Personally, it’s one of the outfits I love most,” he says.

Fugu, also known as batakari, is made from woven strips of cotton, stitched in different patterns that historically represented different places in Ghana’s Savannah region. Fugu was traditionally worn by chiefs and warriors, with some patterns reserved for special ceremonies. Ghana’s first president, Kwame Nkrumah, wore it during the country’s inaugural independence ceremony in 1957.

Jemima Israel is an office worker in Ghana who sells fabric as a side business. A few years ago, she bought a fugu smock for a friend living in the U.K., since fugu is considered a good garment for cold weather. Israel intends to buy one for herself as well.

“I’ve seen some of the designs for women online. One of these days, I’ll put some money down. At the end of the year, I will just buy it to reward myself. It’s a very prestigious fabric,” Israel says.

Authentic fugu is handwoven and handstitched. Because of the labor involved, fugu smocks can cost between 400–2,000 Ghanaian cedi, about $36 to $186.

Supporting the labor involved is exactly why the ministry of tourism creates initiatives like Fugu Wednesday. A few years ago, a similar initiative encouraged wearing African prints on Fridays. “Wear your African clothes every day,” says tourism minister Dzifa Gomashie. “That’s what keeps the money here. That’s what keeps the money in the country.”

Keeping money and business in the country is vital, as Ghanaian fabric makers and tailors face fierce competition from the secondhand clothing industry. Ghana is the world’s largest importer of used clothing and is sometimes described as fast fashion’s dumping ground. About 15 million pieces of secondhand clothing arrive each week. Locals call them obroni wawu, which means “dead white man’s clothes.”

“For the average Ghanaian, thrift is a go-to,” Israel explains. “For me, I think it becomes wasteful. You wear it once, as you wash, it doesn’t become really pleasing to wear.”

An estimated 60% of the secondhand clothing imported is resold and repurposed. But the other 40%, too damaged or low-quality to sell, piles up in a dump site next to Accra’s Korle Lagoon. Rainfall washes thousands of garments into the waterway, where they drift out to the ocean and pile up on beaches. Fishermen often find “textile tentacles,” masses of clothes knotted together stretching several meters long.

Other countries in Africa have set a hard line against secondhand clothes. In 2018, Rwanda raised tariffs on imports of used textiles with the goal of strengthening the domestic textile industry. In 2023, Uganda banned importation of secondhand clothes altogether. In Ghana, too many jobs depend on the secondhand clothing industry for the government to attempt a full-out ban. And attempts to limit and regulate imports haven’t been successful.

Initiatives like Fugu Wednesday show promise in shifting business from imported clothes to local businesses. Moses Adibasa, who has supported himself sewing fugu for almost 20 years, is optimistic about the Fugu Wednesday trend. “It will benefit those selling thread, those weaving, and those of us sewing,” he says.

Abigail Naki Gabor is secretary of a weavers and sellers association. She says Fugu Wednesdays have increased demand beyond what traditional methods can meet. “Using our hands slows the process and limits our ability to be productive. We need industrial machines,” she says.

Others think the slow nature of handweaving is part of its cultural value. “It is a careful, intentional process,” says fashion designer Perfectual Linnan. “If we treat it only as a commodity and not as heritage, we lose something impor­tant.” Her clothing brand, Roots by Linnan, incorporates traditional fugu fabric into modern designs made for everyday wear. “We want to show that you can wear the northern fabric in different ways,” she says. “If you’re not into the traditional smock, you can still carry a piece of culture with you.”

The fugu trend has also reached church congregations. Jemima Israel says that many churches have a “cultural Sunday” in March, after Ghana’s Independence Day. People dress “to represent a particular tribe,” she says. With the new popularity of fugu, some churches renamed their cultural service “Fugu Sunday.”

At Cedar Mountain Chapel in Accra, a welcome team greeted congregants to their cultural Sunday service holding signs that read “I am made in Ghana,” “Rooted in culture, grounded in faith,” and “Serving God & Serving Ghana.”

On Ash Wednesday, the Evangelical Presbyterian Church of Ghana posted a photo of the moderator of the general assembly in fugu. “Faith and culture are not rivals but companions,” the caption reads. “The fugu on our shoulders speaks of strength; the humility of Lent speaks of surrender. Together, they declare we are dust, yet we are dignified.”