This is not just the story of colonial conquest. It is the story of the first OIL WAR, a war not fought over petroleum, but over palm oil, in the territories that would later become Nigeria.
Before the first drop of crude was ever drilled in Oloibiri, there was already a fierce battle for control over a different kind of oil: the red gold of the tropics.
In the 19th century, as the Industrial Revolution thundered across Britain and Europe, the demand for lubricants to keep machines running was insatiable. And at the heart of that demand was palm oil, a sticky red substance extracted from the fruit of a native African tree. This oil was used to grease machines, produce candles, soaps, etc.
The Niger Delta, then part of the region Europeans called the “Oil Rivers,” was the world’s richest source of this commodity. For centuries, the same Delta had served as a major slave-exporting hub, but by the 1870s, as abolition gained ground, slaves were replaced by palm oil as the primary export. The coast once known for bondage was now valued for commerce. African traders, many of them former slaves or descendants of returnees, became immensely wealthy. One of the most famous among them was King Jaja of Opobo, a self-made merchant-king who built a thriving trade empire on the strength of palm oil and personal diplomacy. These African merchants understood global trade and negotiated directly with European companies.
But African prosperity was never allowed to grow unchecked for long. By the late 1800s, European commercial rivalry was boiling over into political intrigue. British, French, and German merchants vied for dominance in the West African market. In 1879, a Cornishman named George Taubman Goldie began consolidating several British trading firms into a single entity. He formed the United African Company (UAC). With this company, Goldie initially envisioned dominating the palm oil trade on the Niger River. After that, he envisioned something more than trade, he wanted sovereignty.
Through aggressive expansion, Goldie’s company secured treaties with local chiefs along the Niger and Benue Rivers, gaining de facto control of vast inland territories. By 1884, Goldie’s company operated about 30 trading posts and used its economic leverage to argue at the Berlin Conference (the infamous 1884–85 summit where European powers divided Africa among themselves) that Britain should be awarded exclusive rights to the Niger Basin.
The British won the argument. The next year, in 1886, Goldie’s company received a Royal Charter from the British Crown, becoming the Royal Niger Company (RNC), a private corporation with governmental powers, similar to the old British East India Company. It could make treaties, raise its own military force, collect taxes, administer justice, and govern the vast areas along the Niger and Benue Rivers.
In effect, Nigeria was not yet a British colony, it was a private corporate colony ruled by a for-profit company headquartered in London.
To the local chiefs, the new company agents spoke of free trade and mutual prosperity. But behind these assurances were binding English contracts designed to establish monopolies, giving the company exclusive trading rights and ceding sovereignty to the British Crown. This meant the chiefs could only sell palm oil to the Royal Niger Company. Any attempt to export independently was treated as economic rebellion. Many chiefs, including King Jaja of Opobo, resisted.
King Jaja of Opobo was one such rebel. Despite his previous cooperation with the British, he refused to be dictated to. When he began exporting palm oil directly to Liverpool merchants, he was arrested in 1887, exiled to the West Indies, and never saw his kingdom again. He died in 1891 on his way home, allegedly poisoned with a cup of tea.
By the 1890s, resistance was rising. In the kingdom of Nembe, in today’s Bayelsa State, a new monarch, King Koko Mingi VIII, ascended the throne in 1889. Koko was an educated Christian convert and former schoolteacher. But he soon found himself at odds with the Royal Niger Company’s chokehold on trade. Like Jaja before him, he tried to bypass the company’s monopoly by seeking commercial ties with the Germans in Kamerun. But the company retaliated by blockading his kingdom from its traditional markets.
Tired of negotiations and betrayal, King Koko struck back. On 29 January 1895, before dawn, he led over 1,000 warriors in a surprise attack on the Royal Niger Company’s heavily guarded headquarters at Akassa. In what became known as the Brass Raid, Koko’s forces captured the station, seized arms and ammunition, including a Maxim machine gun, and took 60 European hostages. Koko demanded that the British lift their monopoly and allow Nembe to trade freely.
The British government refused to negotiate. In response, King Koko executed about forty of the hostages, an act the British termed cannibalism, a fabrication meant to justify vengeance.
On 20 February 1895, the Royal Navy retaliated under Admiral Frederick Bedford, launching a brutal punitive expedition. They bombarded Nembe town (Brass) and burned it to the ground. Hundreds were killed. Survivors suffered famine and diseases such as smallpox.
King Koko went into hiding. The town of Brass was fined £500, a fortune at the time, and forced to surrender weapons and surviving hostages.
In 1898, King Koko, declared an outlaw and unable to rally sufficient support for further resistance, died by suicide in exile. Around the same time, Oba Ovonramwen of Benin was also deposed following the Benin Punitive Expedition in 1897, signalling the final collapse of powerful indigenous resistance in southern Nigeria.
Back in London, the public outcry over the Brass Massacre and the RNC’s excesses led to parliamentary pressure. The British Parliament opened an inquiry, but rather than punish the Royal Niger Company, the Crown did something far more significant, it decided that a private corporation could no longer be trusted with the government of a people.
In 1899, the British revoked the Royal Charter of the Royal Niger Company. But it did not come for free.
The British bought out the company’s rights, territories, and infrastructure for the sum of £865,000, the equivalent of £108 million today. That was the price Britain paid to acquire the territory that would become Nigeria.
It was not a conquest in the conventional sense, it was a transaction. Nigeria was, quite literally, sold.
And who sold it?
The man at the centre of the deal was Sir George Taubman Goldie, the imperialist who had envisioned and built the corporate company that took over Nigeria’s territories. In many ways, he was Nigeria’s unofficial founder, though he never ruled the colony formally. He sold Nigeria to the British Crown in 1899 for £865,000, and for his services to empire, he was later knighted.
On 1 January 1900, the Southern and Northern Protectorates were formally declared under British rule.
The company was gone. But its legacy of economic exploitation, monopolistic control, and indirect rule would persist.
The company itself didn’t die. It rebranded and evolved. The Royal Niger Company merged into what we know today as Unilever, a multinational that still trades in Africa.
This is not just a footnote in colonial history. It is the story of how an entire country people, kingdoms, resources, rivers, was commodified, negotiated, and sold. It reminds us that empire was not only built with gunboats, but also with contracts, shares, and profits.
Nigeria, long before independence, had already been bought and sold.
Nollywood actress Sarah Martins has formally responded to the Lagos State Government’s warning regarding her recent public cooking activity, clarifying that the event was an emotional reconnection with vulnerable children rather than a deliberate breach of environmental laws.
The response comes after the Lagos State Commissioner for the Environment and Water Resources, Tokunbo Wahab, on Saturday, cautioned the actress against cooking on public roads, warning that she risks arrest and prosecution if she continues the practice.
In an open letter posted on her Instagram handle on Sunday, Martins, the founder of the Sarah Martins Golden Heart Foundation, sought to set the record straight, stating that the meal was prepared in a controlled environment.
“I would like to respectfully clarify that I did not cook on the walkway or on the main street.
“The meal was prepared in front of the King’s Palace under the supervision of security personnel, and the activity took place very far from the main road, ensuring that it did not obstruct movement or create any public nuisance,” she wrote.
Explaining the motivation behind the act, the actress described it as a response to the pleas of street children she frequently encounters.
“The visit was simply born out of an emotional moment. I had deeply missed the bond I share with the vulnerable street children in that area,” she explained.
“As I occasionally drive past that axis, the children often plead with me to come back and cook with them like I used to. On this particular day, I decided to spend some time with them and prepare a meal, purely to reconnect and create memories with the kids who have always shown me genuine love,” she added.
The actress offered an apology to the state government for any perceived impropriety, saying, “My brief return to that location was never intended to create any form of public nuisance, but simply to share a heartfelt moment with children who have continued to ask for my presence.
“However, if my actions were perceived as inappropriate in any way, I sincerely apologide. I hold the laws and environmental standards of Lagos State in the highest regard.
“Going forward, I will ensure that all cooking activities are carried out strictly within the charity kitchen provided for the foundation.”
In her response, Martins also expressed gratitude to Seyi Tinubu, the President’s son, noting that his donation of a charity kitchen was specifically intended to ensure her feeding programs are conducted in a proper and organised environment, which she said her foundation remains committed to using.
PUNCH Online reports that Martins was arrested in October 2025 by KAI officials while she was cooking on a road median in Lekki, seizing her equipment.
The Lagos State Government defended the operation, with Wahab stating that the actress had engaged in unauthorised activities on public infrastructure in contravention of environmental and sanitation regulations.
While she previously claimed to have received ₦20 million from his office, Seyi Tinubu reportedly denied making the donation personally, saying some friends, moved by compassion, had raised funds to help her secure a proper space for her charity work, but stressed that he did not support any act that violated Lagos State laws.
Mr Oyekunle Onigbinde, the last child of the late national coach Festus Onigbinde, has said that although his father was sick, he fought well to stay alive.
Oyekunle made the remarks in an interview with the News Agency of Nigeria in Ibadan on Tuesday.
Describing his father as a generous man who cared for everyone, Oyekunle said his death on Monday came as a huge shock.
“He fought well to stay alive.
“He was sick, but due to old age, his body couldn’t fight the recovery.
“My father was very accommodating; he pulled everyone together.
“He didn’t care who you were; he just wanted everyone happy and united.
“He was the string that knitted many together,” he said.
Meanwhile, renowned sports analyst Tayo Balogun told NAN that his 40-minute phone conversation with Onigbinde in 2025 would forever linger in his memory.
“We went down memory lane, and I thanked him for being who he was: painstaking, foresighted, forthright, forthcoming, and incredibly hardworking.
“I told him I appreciated him and that I was calling to let him know that his contributions to Nigerian football will always be footnoted in history.
“During the call, I noticed his voice had lost some of its vibration. He attributed this to old age, claiming he was as fit as a fiddle.
“He asked after my TV Gang of Feyi Ogunduyile and Modele Sarafa-Yusuf (then known as Oshiinaike),” he said.
Balogun said he praised Onigbinde for his contributions to Shooting Stars Sports Club (3SC).
“He actually changed the name from IICC Shooting Stars.
“I asked him if he remembered that I asked him why he was practising penalty kicks after 3SC had comprehensively beaten Tonnere Kalara Club of Yaounde at the Liberty Stadium, just before the second-leg match.
“He told me Remi Asuni, the then Oyo State FA Chairman, asked him the same question and that he answered, ‘If we can beat them 4-0 in Ibadan, they may pay us back in Yaounde,’” he said.
The 73-year-old analyst said he also praised Onigbinde for his bravery in selecting players for the 2002 World Cup.
“I told him I understood why he included Mutiu Adepoju, but did not understand why he didn’t play him in any of the matches.
“He said that was the only mistake he made, but that if I noticed, we were quite close in all the matches we played, and if he brought in Mutiu and we lost, it would be blamed on Adepoju,” he said.
Balogun described Onigbinde as the most thorough Nigerian coach he knew.
“Each year, he would draw up a list of requirements for his team.
“With Shooting Stars, he would get 20 per cent, and with the Eagles, he didn’t even get 10 per cent.
“All the same, he got spectacular results with both teams.
“He was the first coach to take a group of rookies like Chibuzor Ehilegbu, Paul Okoku, Femi Olukanmi, and others to Ghana and beat the then-dreaded Black Stars in their country.
“Onigbinde’s memory will remain indelible.
“He was a gentleman, humble, and highly intelligent.
Reality TV star, Josephina Otabor, popularly known as Phyna, has opened up about the struggles she faced while growing up and why she does not like the name given to her at birth.
During a recent interview with Ezinne Akudo on the show Beyond With Ezinne, the former Big Brother Naija winner said her parents named her Blessing, but she came to dislike the name because her life did not reflect its meaning.
It was reports that Phyna explained that as she was growing up, many parts of her life were very difficult.
According to her, she often felt like she was always begging for love from people around her, including family members, friends and even in relationships.
She said the situation made her feel as if the name Blessing did not match the experiences she was going through.
The reality star also spoke about the pain she felt after the death of her sister. She said the loss deeply affected her, and at one point, she even wished she could die because of the emotional burden she was carrying at the time.
She said, “The name given to me by my parents is Blessing. My reasons for hating that name was you don’t see sense of blessing in my life. Because you know, it felt like I was always begging for love, family love, friendship, even in relationships. In fact, Dem don use am curse me. All aspects of life for me, growing up was very crazy. Even when you’re a teenager, there are things you could get from parents, from friends, family I didn’t have that, but I knew for one that I was going to be big.
“Then I always tell my aunts, everybody, even when they beat me or maltreat me, today, the next minute I will see when I go watch me for television, you know, I go get money. People always say negative things about me. Even when I’m trying my best, it affects me. It affects my workload. They are quick to broke shame me. In fact, when my sister died, I wanted to die. A lot was going on with me. It actually makes me feel God is with me because so many things have happened that I suppose don really run mad.”
