The Museum of Stolen History: Part V

Things can be taken. Their stories must still be told.

Curated by Shola Lawal | Art direction by Wynona Mutisi

The Museum of Stolen History is a new series by The Continent that tells the stories of some of Africa's most significant artefacts.

The rooster stood for over 114 years in the dining hall of Jesus College, part of Cambridge University, whose official crest is also a cockerel. Okukor was returned to Nigeria in 2021, after students at the college campaigned for its removal.

The Museum of Stolen History: Part I

The bronze sculpture was among thousands of artefacts Britain plundered from the ancient Benin Kingdom in 1897. Officially, 2,500 items were stolen.

Historians suggest the number was higher.

Benin Kingdom, in present-day Edo State, was known for its opulence, engineering, and legendary artistry. Benin carvers used bas-relief style to create solemn, life-sized head and bust sculptures of obas (traditional rulers) and members of the royal court; or plaques depicting historical events in brass, ivory, terracotta, and wood. The royal palace was adorned with many such pieces, but the sculptures were also important for rituals. Okukor is believed to pay homage to the Iyoba or queen mother, referred to as “the cockerel that crows at the head of the harem”.

The Museum of Stolen History: Part II

Benin’s advancement is credited to Oba Ewuare the Great (1440-1473), who oversaw the development of an ordered city of roads and gates, and ruled from Lagos to the Niger. Perhaps the greatest of Ewuare’s feats was the massive wall built around Benin to deter invaders. Historians think it stretched over 10,000km, with nine gates that opened and shut daily.

Benin’s wealth came from trade, including the horrifying sale of people as chattel. In exchange for weapons and brass ingots from Portuguese traders, Benin sold slaves, artwork, pepper, and ivory.

By the late 19th century, following the abolition of slavery, kingdoms surrounding Benin had been annexed by Britain. Still, Oba Ovonramwen Nogbaisi enjoyed sovereignty and monopoly over palm oil and rubber trade in the region, and taxed traders passing through – including the British. That greatly annoyed London.

Okukor. (Photo: Kola Sulaimon/AFP)

James Robert Phillips, a British consular officer, decided to petition the oba himself in January 1897. The oba said he would not be available because of important annual rituals that forbade entertaining guests. However, Phillips’s entourage from the Oil Rivers protectorate (now the Niger Delta) still advanced. It included a number of Britons and hundreds of local porters. Suspicious, the oba’s generals unilaterally ordered an ambush that killed nearly every member of the entourage, including Phillips. Only two colonial officers survived the attack.

The Museum of Stolen History: Part III

In retaliation, a 1,200-strong British force invaded Benin with orders to execute the oba. Benin’s army was no match for the invading force, which came by land and sea with cannons.

Within days, the British reached the palace – but Oba Ovonramwen had escaped. The invaders looted the palace before razing it. The oba was later captured and exiled to Calabar with two of his 80 wives. The Kingdom of Benin was put fully under British control.

The plundered bronzes, meanwhile, were carted to London where they were given to officers or auctioned. Many made their way to museums in Britain and Germany. Okukor was donated to Jesus College in 1905 by a soldier who was part of the Benin expedition, whose son attended the school.

The Museum of Stolen History: Part IV

Following Okukor’s return to the Edo capital, Benin City, another 20 bronzes were returned by Germany in 2022.

Every object taken away represented an ancestor in captivity, Theophilus Umogbai, director of Benin City National Museum, told the Associated Press at the time. It was as though the people had been vandalised, he said, adding that their return now will help fill many gaps.

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Illustration note, by Nigerian artist Daniel Oluwale: Generations of queens have come and gone without the voice of Okukor, caged in glass and deprived of purpose, to greet them. Of what use is an indoor cockerel, who cannot tell day or night? Freed from that place at last and set on a familiar roost alongside his brethren and recognisable faces, he faced the sun once more. Although Okukor did not crow, his voice was felt across the land, celebrating a new dawn.