In nineteenth century Onitsha, authority did not belong to a single ruler. Alongside the Obi, the male monarch, stood a recognised female office known as the Omu. This was not a symbolic role and not a royal marriage position. The Omu represented women as a political body, held independent authority, and occupied a visible place in the public life of the town.
Power in Onitsha flowed through parallel institutions. Men and women were organised differently, yet both were essential to governance, trade, and social order. The Omu stood as the highest expression of women’s authority, a throne that balanced the male kingship rather than serving beneath it.
Nwagboka, the last remembered Omu
The last woman remembered to have held the Omu title in Onitsha is Nwagboka. In Onitsha memory, her name marks the end of a line. She is recalled as the final occupant of the female throne, after whom the stool was never filled again.
Tradition remembers her as a woman of standing, originating from Ogbendida and married into the Egwuatu family of Ogbeotu. What matters more than genealogy, however, is her position. Nwagboka was Omu in her own right. She did not rule as a king’s wife. She ruled because the institution itself recognised her authority.
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The treaty that fixed her name in history
Nwagboka’s name survives in one of the most consequential moments in Onitsha’s nineteenth century history. On 9 October 1884, a treaty was concluded at Onitsha during Britain’s expansion along the Niger. The agreement listed the African parties not only as the king and chiefs, but also as a Queen.
Among the signatories appears the name “Queen Wanboka Aumoo.” In later description of the same treaty, this queen is identified directly with the Omu of Onitsha. Her signature sits beside that of Obi Anazonwu and the town’s chiefs, marking her as part of the recognised leadership that negotiated with foreign power.
This moment matters deeply. It shows that a woman, holding an indigenous office of authority, was publicly acknowledged at the highest diplomatic level of the time. Nwagboka was not hidden from history. She stood in it, inked into a document that shaped the future of her city.
What the treaty reveals about women’s power
The treaty does more than preserve a name. It reveals how women’s authority could be expressed formally in Onitsha society. The Omu was not confined to markets or rituals alone. She could represent the community in matters of international consequence.
For readers today, this challenges familiar assumptions about African political life in the nineteenth century. Onitsha’s system allowed a woman to appear openly as part of sovereign authority. Nwagboka’s presence in the treaty reflects a society where women’s leadership was not invisible, and not informal.
The protest remembered two years later
Not long after the treaty, Nwagboka’s name becomes linked to one of the most striking episodes in Onitsha’s political memory. Women organised through Ikporo Onitsha, the association of married women, are remembered for withdrawing their duties in protest against the rule of Obi Anazonwu.
The action is often described as a boycott or strike. Women stepped back from the labour, services, and obligations that sustained everyday life. The message was clear. Without women, the city could not function as usual.
This form of protest did not rely on weapons or violence. It relied on absence. By refusing participation, women made their importance impossible to ignore. Nwagboka stands at the centre of this memory, not as a passive observer, but as a figure associated with organised resistance and collective action.
After her death, a throne left empty
Following Nwagboka’s era, the Omu stool was not filled again. The female throne that once stood visibly beside the kingship remained vacant. This absence lasted not for years, but for generations.
Women did not disappear from Onitsha’s life. They continued to organise, trade, worship, and influence the community. What disappeared was the formal recognition of a female monarch whose authority matched that of the Obi in structure, if not in identical function.
The silence of the Omu stool is one of the most powerful parts of Nwagboka’s story. It marks a shift in how authority was expressed and remembered. An institution that once named women’s sovereignty was allowed to fade into memory.
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Why Nwagboka’s story still matters
Nwagboka matters because her life stands at a crossroads of recognition and loss. She appears as a queen in a treaty that reshaped Onitsha’s future. She is remembered as a leader connected to women’s collective protest. She is followed by the long vacancy of a throne that once embodied female authority.
Her story reminds readers that power does not vanish overnight. Sometimes it leaves quietly, through an unfilled seat, through a title no longer spoken, through an institution allowed to fall silent.
Author’s Note
Nwagboka’s story is not only about a woman who ruled. It is about what happens when a society stops naming women’s authority out loud. A signature beside a king, a protest led by women, and a throne left empty tell the same lesson, power can exist, be recognised, and still be lost if it is not carried forward.
References
Papers Relating to the Instrument Establishing the Onitsha Urban District Council, 1956.
Olasupo, F. A., 2015, Female Traditional Rulers in Eastern Nigeria: Eze Ogo Alu Ibiam as a Case Study.
Nzegwu, Nkiru, 1994, Gender Equality in a Dual Sex System: The Case of Onitsha.
Imeobi Onitsha, Ikporo Onitsha organisational history.
