By Idowu Ephraim Faleye
Kingship is not something anyone wakes up and claims. It is not like politics where anybody can contest, campaign, or declare ambition. Kingship is a sacred institution that is born out of history, bloodline, tradition, and culture. A king does not exist in a vacuum. He must belong to a royal lineage whose forefathers had sat on the throne before him. He must inherit the right to kingship through his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfathers who were themselves kings in that land. Without that ancestral root, there is no kingship.
It is not only about being born into royalty, a king must also pass through traditional rites, must be confirmed by the custodians of tradition, and installed through rituals that connect him with the ancestors of the land. Beyond that, in modern times, he must be legally recognized by government through the Ministry of Chieftaincy and given a Staff of Office that validates his authority. Without these steps—heritage, tradition, and government recognition—nobody can claim the seat of a king.
A king must also have a kingdom. That kingdom must be a territory with a people and a history that justifies its existence. No one can suddenly rise up and call himself king in another man’s kingdom. The land belongs to those who are historically tied to it, and the throne belongs to the families whose bloodline runs deep in its royal history. If a new kingdom is ever to be created, it cannot be by wishful thinking. It must be backed by historical claims, cultural identity, and government approval. Government alone has the authority to create a new kingdom, carve out a new domain, and recognize a new ruler. Without government recognition, a self-made king is nothing but an impostor.
A kingdom is guided and guarded by norms, customs, traditions, and culture. These are not decorations, they are the soul of the kingdom. They are what give the people their identity, regulate their lives, and connect them to their ancestors. Traditions decide how a king is chosen, how festivals are celebrated, how disputes are settled, and how respect is shown to leaders. Customs regulate daily practices such as marriages, inheritance, greetings, and communal life. These elements are what justify the existence of a kingdom, and without them, a kingdom is just an empty name.
This is where the matter of Igbos in Lagos comes in. The Igbos migrated to Lagos in search of greener pastures. They came to trade, to work, and to make Lagos their second home. Nobody denies their right to live and prosper in Lagos, because Lagos is a cosmopolitan city that accommodates everyone. But living in Lagos does not give the Igbos ownership of Lagos. Migration is not the same as ancestry. Settlement is not the same as heritage. Being a tenant is not the same as being a landlord.
Now some Igbo groups are pushing to install an “Obi of Igbos in Lagos.” That ambition is a direct contradiction of everything kingship represents. Lagos is not their ancestral land. They do not have royal bloodline or ancestral lineage in Lagos. They have not inherited any right to the throne of Lagos or any stool within it. The land of Lagos belongs to the Yoruba people, and its thrones are reserved for the royal houses of Lagos whose fathers and forefathers had ruled long before Lagos became what it is today. To attempt to set up an Igbo king in Lagos is to trample on the culture and heritage of the people who own the land.
Even if the Igbos argue that they only want a cultural king for themselves, that argument does not hold water. Kingship cannot be transported from one land to another. You cannot uproot a tree from its soil and expect it to bear fruit in a foreign land. Kingship belongs to the land of your ancestors, not the land of your trading. The Igbo people have their kings, their Obis, and their Ezes back home in their communities in the South East. Those are their legitimate thrones where their history and culture are rooted. If they want to honor their culture in Lagos, they can hold festivals, create community associations, or appoint community leaders. But they cannot impose a kingship institution in a land where they are settlers.
To crown someone king in Lagos without following due process is not only illegitimate, it is illegal. The law provides punishment for anybody who crowns himself king or allows himself to be crowned illegally. Both the impostor and those who crown him are liable to prison terms. This is because kingship is not just about tradition but also about legality. Government alone has the final say on who is king and where a king can rule. The Staff of Office is the government’s stamp of legitimacy. Without it, no crown can stand.
If the Igbos go ahead with this plan, it is not only a violation of Yoruba tradition, it is also an affront to the Lagos State Government. No community can create a kingdom for itself inside another kingdom without government approval. Doing so is a recipe for conflict and chaos. History is full of examples of what happens when such arrogance is attempted. In Ghana, the behavior of Igbos led to resentment and eventual banishment. In South Africa, their tendency to dominate led to xenophobia and violent clashes. These are not random accidents, they are reactions to a pattern of overstepping boundaries.
Lagos cannot afford to repeat those mistakes. The peace of Lagos depends on respecting the indigenous culture and authority of its traditional rulers. Yoruba land has its kings, its Obas, and its recognized stools that are backed by history and government. No other group, no matter how influential in trade, can override or replicate that institution. To allow Igbos to install a king in Lagos would be to open the door for every other ethnic group to do the same. The Hausas would install their Emir, the Edos their Oba, the Ijaws their Amanyanabo. Lagos would become a jungle of competing thrones, and the authority of the original owners would be eroded.
The Igbos have every right to prosper in Lagos, but that right does not extend to creating kingship. They can organize themselves into unions, elect community leaders, and even call them presidents or chairmen, but not kings. Kingship is not their inheritance in Lagos. Their inheritance lies in their own ancestral homes where their Obis and Ezes sit on thrones recognized by tradition and law.
The truth is simple: kingship is not transferable. It is not portable. You cannot carry it in a suitcase and install it wherever you choose to live. It is tied to land, lineage, culture, and government recognition. Without those four, there is no kingship. The attempt to install an Igbo king in Lagos is a distortion of history, a breach of tradition, and an illegality under the law.
If the Igbos want to be respected in Lagos, they must respect Lagos. Respect means acknowledging the culture, honoring the traditions, and submitting to the authority of the land that hosts you. It means living peacefully as settlers, not attempting to be landlords in another man’s house. It means building bridges of cooperation, not planting seeds of conflict.
The Yoruba proverb says, “Bi a ba rìn l’óko oloko, a ma wo ẹ́hìn ni” – when you walk in another man’s farm, you look back with caution. The Igbos in Lagos must remember this wisdom. They are guests in Lagos, and while Lagos welcomes them with open arms, they must not overstep by claiming what does not belong to them.
In sum, kingship is not about trading power or financial strength. It is about heritage, tradition, and law. Lagos already has its kings, chosen from royal lineages, confirmed by tradition, and given Staff of Office by government. That is the only legitimate path to kingship. Any attempt to create another king within Lagos without those foundations is a dangerous provocation that must not be allowed. This is why the Igbos cannot, and must not, install a king in Lagos.
Idowu Faleye is a Data Analyst and a Political writer promoting good governance and public service delivery. He’s the publisher of EphraimHill DataBlog. Contact him via Whatsapp at +2348132100608 or email at ephraimhill01@gmail.com
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