Lifestyle
The Fall of Afonja and the Rise of Fulani Rule in Ilorin
Ilorin, a city now known as the capital of Kwara State in Nigeria, has a complex and significant history that reflects the broader political struggles of the 18th and 19th centuries within the Yoruba world and beyond. Once a Yoruba military outpost under the control of the Oyo Empire, Ilorin’s transition into a Fulani emirate marked one of the most defining turning points in Nigerian history. At the center of this transformation was Afonja, the sixth Aare-Ona-Kakanfo of the Oyo Empire.
Afonja and the Yoruba Control of Ilorin
Ilorin was originally established as a frontier military post by the Oyo Empire. Ojo Isekuse, a Yoruba hunter, was the first known settler of the area, but it was later fortified and governed by Afonja, the Aare-Ona-Kakanfo—the military commander-in-chief of the Oyo Empire. Afonja administered Ilorin on behalf of the Alaafin (king) of Oyo, holding substantial military and political influence.
Conflict Between Afonja and Alaafin Aole
The tension that ultimately led to Afonja’s fall began during the reign of Alaafin Aole (c. 1789–1796). Aole gave Afonja several controversial orders, including attacking the town of Iwere-Ile, a place traditionally avoided due to spiritual taboos. Afonja defied these orders and later rejected another command to attack Apomu, a town in Ile-Ife, regarded as sacred. To signal his final break from the authority of the Alaafin, Afonja sent an empty calabash and parrot’s eggs to Aole—a symbol of rejection in Yoruba tradition.
In response, Alaafin Aole reportedly took his own life in a ritual suicide, uttering a powerful curse on the Yoruba people. This event symbolized the collapse of central authority in Oyo and laid the groundwork for the political upheaval that followed.
Alliance with Shehu Alimi and the Sokoto Jihadists
In seeking to protect his position and challenge the weakened Oyo monarchy, Afonja allied himself with Shehu Alimi, an Islamic scholar and Fulani cleric who had arrived in Ilorin with a band of disciples. This alliance, initially strategic, brought Afonja military support from Alimi’s followers and fighters from the wider Sokoto Caliphate, which had been expanding its Islamic influence across northern Nigeria.
With this support, Afonja and his new allies successfully resisted forces loyal to Oyo and eventually led attacks that resulted in the destruction of Oyo-Ile, the capital of the Oyo Empire, around 1817 or 1818. At this point, Ilorin became a powerful military base and began shifting from a Yoruba to a Fulani-controlled polity.
Afonja’s Downfall and Death
However, the partnership between Afonja and Shehu Alimi soon turned into a struggle for control. Afonja, though powerful, remained a traditional Yoruba warlord and resisted conversion to Islam. As Alimi’s followers grew in number and influence, tensions rose. Afonja also attempted to control the growing violence and lawlessness of the slave-soldiers known as the Jamaa—many of whom were loyal to the Fulani clerics.
Around 1824, these tensions reached a breaking point. Abdulsalam, the son of Shehu Alimi, rallied the Jamaa and led a revolt against Afonja. He was assassinated in the streets of Ilorin in a brutal ambush. His body was reportedly mutilated and left impaled with arrows and spears—a grim display of the fate of one of the most feared Yoruba warriors of his time.
Emergence of the Ilorin Emirate
Following Afonja’s death, Abdulsalam declared himself the first Emir of Ilorin, aligning the city politically and religiously with the Sokoto Caliphate. The traditional Yoruba chieftaincy system was abandoned in favor of the emirate model. From that point forward, Ilorin ceased to be ruled by Yoruba kings and was governed by Fulani emirs under Islamic law.
Failed Yoruba Counterattacks
After Afonja’s death, the Yoruba made several attempts to retake Ilorin. His successor, Toyeje of Ogbomoso, led counter-offensives such as the Battle of Ogele in 1825. Despite initial resistance, these campaigns ended in defeat for the Yoruba, largely due to the superior cavalry and support Ilorin received from Sokoto.
These losses marked the definitive end of Oyo’s military dominance in the region and sealed Ilorin’s status as a Fulani emirate. The city remained outside the political and cultural control of the Yoruba, despite being geographically located within Yorubaland—a reality that remains significant to this day.
The fall of Afonja is more than a personal tragedy; it is a symbol of the dramatic political realignments that occurred in 19th-century West Africa. Afonja’s attempt to assert Yoruba independence from the crumbling Oyo Empire inadvertently opened the door for Fulani dominance. His death not only marked the end of Yoruba rule in Ilorin but also the rise of Islamic emirate structures in a region that had once been firmly under traditional Yoruba authority.
The story of Afonja is a crucial part of Nigeria’s historical tapestry, offering insights into the dynamics of power, alliance, betrayal, and the long-lasting effects of colonial and pre-colonial politics in shaping modern identities and boundaries.
FOLLOW US ON:
The Awzaw (Ozo) title, one of the highest and most sacred honours among the Igbo, was traditionally divided into two stages: Awzaw-Unaw (conferred first by one’s extended family or “house”) and Nukwu Awzaw (full investiture recognized across the town). It was the most expensive of all titles, with total costs often exceeding £120—a significant sum in those days. Roughly two-thirds of the cost had to be paid in cash, and the rest in livestock, spirits, and other ceremonial items.
Initial payments were made to members of the candidate’s kindred (umunna), followed by larger sums to the Awzaw Chiefs of the local quarter, and then to the rest of the town’s titleholders. The festivities included traditional music, dancers, and ritual displays. A horse—regardless of its condition—had to be slaughtered by the aspirant himself as a symbolic act, earning him the honorary title Otibwu-Anyinya (“he who has killed a horse”), a feat made rare and prestigious by the scarcity of horses due to the tsetse fly.
Following the rite, the new chief entered a strict period of seclusion lasting two months. He was forbidden from staying in his own compound or seeing anyone outside his immediate family. A temporary shelter was built for him, and he was to be covered in white chalk throughout. He also had to remain with only his first wife during this period.
When he finally emerged, the chief paraded through town accompanied by the ogenne, a long, deep-toned iron bell used to announce his presence. He would publicly embrace his first wife and eldest son in a symbolic gesture of reentry into society.
The regalia of an Awzaw Chief included a spear with a twisted iron crown, red camwood-stained ankle cords, an ivory horn, and a special stool reserved for titleholders. Benefits were considerable: freedom from all manual labor, immunity from physical assault by other natives, judicial authority, and rights over domestic and communal disputes. Depending on his ritual sacrifice, he was saluted either as Obwu-Efi (“cow killer”) or Otibwu-Anyinya (“horse killer”). He also received a share of all entrance and administrative fees paid into the order’s treasury.
Note: The famous Igbo Ukwu altar stand reflects the sacred aesthetics and artistic heritage surrounding such elite traditions. (Source: Eliot Elisofon Photographic Archives, National Museum of African Art).
Source Kehinde Thompson
FOLLOW US ON:
This rare photograph captures a historic moment in 1925, when Edward, the Prince of Wales—the future King Edward VIII—visited Kano during his royal tour of British colonies in West Africa. In this scene, he is seen meeting the Emir of Kano, one of the most prominent traditional rulers in Northern Nigeria at the time.
The Prince’s visit to Kano was more than ceremonial; it was a calculated gesture of diplomacy, underscoring the British Crown’s ties to its colonial territories and the significance of Northern Nigeria within the British Empire. Kano, known for its centuries-old Islamic emirate, was a hub of commerce, scholarship, and governance in the region.
The meeting symbolized the colonial policy of indirect rule, in which British administrators governed through powerful local monarchs like the Emir. It also served to reinforce British influence by publicly acknowledging and respecting indigenous leadership structures.
Edward would later ascend the throne in 1936 as King Edward VIII, but his reign lasted less than a year. He famously abdicated to marry Wallis Simpson, an American divorcée—a decision that shocked Britain and led to a constitutional crisis. After his abdication, his brother became King George VI, father of Queen Elizabeth II. Edward was subsequently titled Duke of Windsor and lived much of his life in exile.
This photograph, therefore, is not just a snapshot of colonial-era diplomacy—it also foreshadows the complex legacy of a British monarch whose personal choices changed the course of royal history, all while standing beside a Nigerian ruler whose authority remained rooted in centuries-old tradition.
Source Jaafar Jaafar
FOLLOW US ON:
A Royal Ride Through Nigeria: The Prince of Wales’ 1925 Visit
In preparation for the historic 1925 visit of the Prince of Wales—the future King Edward VIII—to Nigeria, a specially commissioned vehicle was shipped ahead to serve the royal tour. The car, a custom-built 25–30 horsepower Crossley touring model, reflected the grandeur of the occasion.
Painted in striking austral red and upholstered with grey antique leather, the seven-seater vehicle was fitted with refined features of the era, including Moonbeam headlamps, an Auster rear screen, a windscreen wiper, an eight-day clock, and two spare wheels—all tailored for both function and style on colonial roads.
To mark its royal purpose, the car bore the Prince of Wales’ feathers in metal on both the front and rear. A specially mounted metal flag mast on the radiator cap flew the Royal Arms, signifying the official presence of the British Crown.
The Prince’s tour of Nigeria formed part of a broader Commonwealth itinerary, reinforcing the British monarchy’s presence in its West African colonies. This car not only transported a royal figure—it carried a symbol of imperial authority across a land rich in tradition, leadership, and cultural heritage.
FOLLOW US ON:
-
Education2 weeks agoHow A Class Of 24 Students Produced 2 Presidents, 4 Governors, 2 Ministers, 4 Emirs, 3 Justices, 4 Ambassadors and Other Influential Leaders
-
News2 weeks ago‘Sleeping Prince’ of Saudi Arabia dies after 20 years in coma
-
News2 weeks agoWhy Do You Continue To Lie Against Your Motherland? Presidency Calls Out Kemi Badenoch
-
News7 days agoLagos belongs to no tribe – Sowore kicks against renaming of Charly Boy Bus Stop, others
-
Lifestyle1 week agoPeople Who Abandon Their Heritage Do So At Their Own Peril – Gani Adams Warns
-
Politics2 weeks ago‘If I don’t give you electricity, don’t vote for me again’ – ADC reminds Tinubu of failed promise
-
News7 days agoYou can’t lie about your country and then we keep quiet – Dabiri-Erewa slams Kemi Badenoch over claim on Nigerian citizenship
-
Lifestyle1 week agoActor Odunlade Adekola has sadly lost his father