A historic photograph taken in 1897 shows Oba Ovonramwen Nogbaisi (also called Overami), the thirty-fifth Oba of the Kingdom of Benin, standing with his special sword bearer and chiefs in his palace. This portrait was taken shortly before his forced deportation to Calabar by British colonial forces—a turning point that reshaped the destiny of Benin and its monarchy.
The 1897 Punitive Expedition
The deportation of Oba Ovonramwen was the direct result of the British punitive expedition against Benin in February 1897. Tensions between the Kingdom of Benin and British colonial authorities had been escalating over trade restrictions, taxation, and control of palm oil exports.
When a British delegation led by Acting Consul General James Phillips attempted to enter Benin City against prior warnings, they were attacked, and several members of the mission were killed. In response, Britain launched a large-scale military invasion to capture the city, depose the Oba, and secure control over trade in the region.
The punitive expedition devastated Benin City. Thousands of soldiers and sailors, heavily armed with modern rifles, artillery, and machine guns, stormed the city. The royal palace and much of the city were burned, while thousands of cultural treasures were seized and shipped to Britain. These artworks became known as the Benin Bronzes, a globally renowned collection of intricately cast bronzes, ivories, and other works that showcased the skill and sophistication of Benin’s artists. Today, many of these pieces remain in Western museums, though efforts for repatriation have been gaining momentum.
Following the destruction of Benin City, Oba Ovonramwen initially fled into the forest. After months of pursuit, he surrendered to the British. In a symbolic act of humiliation, he was tried and then exiled to Calabar, a coastal city in southeastern Nigeria.
In exile, Oba Ovonramwen lived out the rest of his days under surveillance. He died in 1914, never returning to his throne or his people. His deportation marked the end of the Benin monarchy’s political power, though the institution itself would eventually be restored in a ceremonial capacity.
The Kingdom of Benin Before the Fall
For centuries before its conquest, the Kingdom of Benin was one of West Africa’s most powerful and sophisticated states. Situated in present-day Edo State, southern Nigeria, it flourished from at least the 13th century. Benin was renowned for its advanced city planning, massive earthworks, strong military organization, and flourishing art traditions.
The royal court commissioned elaborate bronze plaques, commemorative heads, and ivory carvings, which not only served as historical records but also reinforced the sacred authority of the Oba. European travelers as far back as the 15th century marveled at the city’s grandeur and artistry.
Legacy and Restoration of the Monarchy
Although British colonization dismantled Benin’s political sovereignty, the monarchy was restored in 1914 after the death of Oba Ovonramwen. However, its authority was heavily reduced under colonial rule, limited largely to cultural and traditional functions.
Today, the Oba of Benin remains an important cultural and spiritual leader, symbolizing continuity with the kingdom’s rich past. The ongoing global conversation about the return of the Benin Bronzes has renewed awareness of Oba Ovonramwen’s fate and the devastating consequences of the 1897 expedition.
The photograph of Oba Ovonramwen Nogbaisi with his sword bearer and chiefs is more than a portrait—it is a symbol of resilience and loss. It captures the last days of an independent Benin Kingdom, moments before colonial conquest altered its destiny. The Oba’s deportation, the looting of the Benin Bronzes, and the destruction of Benin City remain among the most significant episodes in the history of European imperial expansion in Africa.
The legacy of Ovonramwen endures, not only in the survival of the monarchy but also in the global recognition of Benin’s art, history, and unbroken cultural identity.
This statement may sound funny, provocative, or even offensive, but it raises an important question about priorities in marriage and religion.
A pastor is a spiritual leader, but he is not supposed to replace a woman’s husband. If a married woman consistently values her pastor’s opinions above her husband’s, obeys her pastor while dismissing her husband, or shows greater loyalty and admiration toward her pastor than toward her spouse, then something may be seriously wrong with the balance in that marriage.
Marriage requires communication, mutual respect, trust, and understanding. A pastor can provide spiritual guidance, but that guidance should not become a reason for a husband and wife to lose respect for each other.
At the same time, husbands should not expect their wives to obey them blindly. Both husband and wife should seek God’s wisdom, communicate openly, and make decisions with love and respect.
So perhaps the real question is not whether such a woman should become the pastor’s “second wife,” but why has the pastor become more important in her marriage than her own husband?
Put God first. Respect your spouse. And never allow a spiritual leader to become a substitute for your marriage partner.
This is a question worth asking—not to insult African traditions or dismiss anyone’s beliefs, but to encourage honest reflection.
Across Africa, it is common to hear people explain repeated family problems as a “generational curse.” When poverty, broken relationships, addiction, failure, sickness, family conflict or misfortune appears to repeat from one generation to another, some people immediately conclude that an ancestor, spiritual force or past wrongdoing is responsible.
But is every repeated family problem truly a curse?
If a child grows up in poverty, has limited access to quality education, receives little financial support and then struggles as an adult, is that necessarily a spiritual curse—or could it be the result of circumstances that have been passed from one generation to another?
If children grow up watching violence, substance abuse, unhealthy relationships or constant conflict, they may unknowingly repeat those patterns. That does not necessarily mean they are cursed. Sometimes behaviour is inherited through environment, not through supernatural forces.
And Africa is certainly not the only place where people believe in supernatural explanations for suffering or misfortune. Different societies around the world have their own concepts of inherited wrongdoing, family misfortune, ancestral consequences, fate and spiritual punishment.
So perhaps the more important question is not:
“Who cursed my family?”
But:
“What pattern has been passed down to me, and what can I do to stop passing it to the next generation?”
We should be careful not to use the idea of a curse to discourage people from taking action. A family facing poverty may need education, opportunity and financial planning. A family experiencing repeated conflict may need healthier communication. A person struggling with addiction may need professional support and a strong recovery environment. Communities facing injustice may need better institutions, accountability and opportunity.
Faith and spirituality are deeply meaningful to many people, and everyone has the right to hold their beliefs. But faith should not prevent us from examining the practical causes of our problems.
We cannot change the past, but we can change what we pass forward.
Instead of teaching our children that they are victims of an unavoidable family curse, let us also teach them knowledge, discipline, emotional strength, financial responsibility, education, healthy relationships and the courage to break destructive patterns.
Maybe the greatest “curse” is not something mysterious placed upon a family.
Maybe sometimes it is simply a problem that nobody stopped long enough to understand and change.
And the greatest inheritance we can give the next generation is not fear of a curse—but the knowledge and courage to build a better future.
There is nothing wrong with speaking English fluently. In fact, being able to communicate confidently in different languages is a valuable skill. But we should ask ourselves a deeper question: while learning to speak the language of another culture, are we slowly losing the language that connects us to our own roots?
Your mother tongue is more than just words. It carries the stories of your ancestors, the wisdom of your grandparents, the jokes that only your people understand, the traditional greetings, the names, the songs, the history and the identity of your community.
Imagine being able to speak perfect English, but struggling to have a simple conversation with your own grandmother because you do not understand the language she grew up speaking. Imagine your children knowing foreign languages but being unable to understand the language of their own heritage.
That should make us pause.
Speaking English does not make you more intelligent, and speaking your indigenous language does not make you less educated. One is a communication skill; the other can be a connection to your heritage. We should not have to choose between being educated and preserving our identity.
Learn English. Speak it confidently. Learn French, Dutch, Spanish or any other language that opens doors for you.
But don’t let the pursuit of foreign languages close the door to your own.
Teach your children your language. Speak it at home. Ask your parents and grandparents to teach you the words you never learned. If you have forgotten it, it is never too late to start again.
Because when a language disappears from a family, something precious disappears with it.
Be proud of your education. Be proud of your ability to speak English. But also be proud of where you come from.
Your language is not something to be ashamed of. It is a part of your story. Preserve it before the next generation only knows it as something their ancestors once spoke.