WUNRN
April 06, 2010|By
Robyn Dixon
Only Women Sit on This Nigerian Throne
In Kumbwada, Nigeria, a curse has assured that only women will reign, locals say. And so far, the current queen pronounces, it has worked out better this way.
Robyn Dixon /
Reporting
from
This
is the genteel court of Queen Hajiya Haidzatu Ahmed.
The
queen's henna-dyed fingers are childlike and slender, her smile girlish and her
voice soft. Whenever she speaks, the men who are her courtiers listen,
enraptured. Whenever she giggles, they laugh loudly. Whenever she explains some
point, they nod solemnly.
In
Kumbwada,
an undulating region with low, scrubby forest, is so notorious for banditry
that the road is dotted with police checkpoints every few miles.
"Once
there is evidence of the use of black magic in any situation, Islam considers
it a deviation which must be reversed," Sheik Aminuddeen Abubakar, imam in
the city of
Musa
Muhammad, the chief imam of Kumbwada, defended the queen, saying Kumbwada's
position was unique.
"We
can't live without a leader, and the fact that any male rulers that ascend the
throne die quickly and mysteriously while female rulers reign for many years
makes our case a peculiar one," Muhammad says. "This is an
exceptional situation none of us can change."
As
the traditional ruler, the queen handles disputes such as quarrels over land,
divorces, petty violence, accusations of theft and arguments between neighbors.
Government courts step in only if a traditional ruler refers a case or if the
situation isn't resolved to everyone's satisfaction.
"The
royalty have a very important role in Nigerian society," Hajiya says.
"Of course we're different than the elected powers. The real power, the
confidence, is with us. Politicians think you can buy votes.
"I
am closer to the people. The traditional rulers are the ones the people
trust."
Outside
the palace, goats bleat and chickens cluck. Inside, it's so hot that rivulets
of perspiration make their way down people's backs.
The
queen could be a simple Nigerian villager in her baggy, shift-like cotton dress
and blue-green scarf. She sits on her throne, an extra-wide, spotless armchair
that looks designed for either someone very important or someone rather large.
The throne is on a platform above her courtiers, elderly men in charge of
collecting taxes, hearing complaints or arranging royal audiences.
Since
her father's hurried departure, when the princess was 7, she knew she was the
heir to the throne. As a child, she played at being queen with other children
in the village who were relegated to the roles of domestic servants and
courtiers.
"When
I was young, there was a very strong peer group of all the children in the
village, both boys and girls. We had leaders and other parts like staff among
us. I got used to a leadership role, even when I was a child. So I was prepared
for this."
Then,
her subjects were children. As the real queen, she has more than 33,000
subjects, most of them poor farmers.
But
apart from the childhood games, she had no education to prepare her for
leadership.
"My
only handicap is that I don't have a Western education, because in my time,
people didn't educate their daughters. I'm not educated in the modern way, but
in the traditional way, I have wisdom in my dealings with people. I'm proud to
say that it would be hard to find someone educated who could rule as well as I
can," she says with calm dignity.
The
queen has her pet hates. She doesn't like divorce. She won't tolerate wife
beating. And she can't bear the idea of leaving any case that comes before her
unresolved, to be handed over to the local court system. She has never let that
happen.
"I've
never had a crisis I couldn't solve," she says.
Even
politicians sometimes have to come to traditional rulers for help, she says.
"In
a crisis, people don't listen to politicians. Once we intervene, once we speak,
to the people, it's hands off."
Most
traditional African rulers reflexively side with the male head of the household
in a family dispute. So a girl resisting marriage to a much older man she
doesn't love is likely to be ordered to obey her father. A woman who complains
she is being beaten is likely to be told to obey her husband.
Hajiya
had one wife-beating case early in her reign.
"I
told him if he ever beat his wife again, I'd dissolve the marriage and put him
in prison," she remembers. "Marriage is not a joke, and women are not
slaves."
Since
that case, she has made a point of campaigning against domestic violence
whenever she holds court in local communities. She says she's never had another
beating case. People know where she stands.
"Men
sometimes say the women provoke them, so that is why they beat them," she
says. "I tell them that there's no justification, whatever happens."
If
a girl is miserable in an arranged marriage, the queen listens to her side of
the story, even though she dislikes divorce.
"In
such cases I try to strike a balance. I don't just end such marriages. I try to
be tactful and see if there's any way this woman can come to love this
man," she says. "But if that's not possible, if there's no way she
can have any compassion for him or love, it's not her fault or his fault. It's
just natural.
"I
intervene and ask for the marriage to be dissolved for the sake of the woman,
the man and everyone's sake."
She
often addresses women's groups, urging members to become educated so that they
can be future leaders. Most of all, she wants to live to see a female Nigerian
president.
"It's
my most ardent wish. I think the problems in
She
keeps her grown daughter, Idris, by her side whenever she holds court, grooming
her to be queen. Her son, Danjuma Salihu, also grown, seated on the floor among
the courtiers, has no hopes of succession.
He
may one day become chief in another dominion though.
"But
not here," she says. "Nobody has any doubts about it. He wouldn't
survive it."
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