THE MYTH REBORN: THE BEES OF SOVEREIGNTY AND THE COURAGE TO DEFY THE AGE – A SACRED KINGDOM AND A SACRED CROWN
Once, in the hallowed hills of Idah, stood a kingdom untouched by conquest, unshaken by the madness of empire. The Igala Kingdom—rich in tradition, fierce in identity, guarded by ancestors—was ruled by a monarch not merely enthroned by bloodline, but sanctified by divine will. This monarch bore the title Attah, meaning “Father,” not just of a people, but of a sacred cosmology. t, and memory.
Among the many symbols of his sovereignty, one stood above all: the Crown of Bees. It was not simply regalia. It was ancestral technology—a living vessel filled with the spirits of past kings, guarded by bees that were said to be not of this world, but emissaries of the realm between the living and the dead. These bees were protectors, judges, and silent witnesses to truth.
A TIME OF THREAT- THEN CAME THE TIME OF THREAT
A foreign force—some say colonialists, others say a hostile regional alliance, still others see it as a metaphor for Western domination—arrived, demanding that the Attah kneel. This was not merely a military demand. It was a spiritual ultimatum. They sought the symbolic humiliation of a king who stood as the last spiritual firewall against complete cultural erasure.
They didn’t come with peace—they came to redefine power, to impose a new order, one that would dethrone the ancestors and enthrone abstraction. The Attah was to renounce his gods, his sovereignty, his essence. He was to bow—not just to a foreign power, but to a woman imposed as a symbolic sovereign, embodying the epistemic violence of empire.
THE REFUSAL TO KNEEL
The Attah did not speak many words. He did not raise an army. Instead, he invoked the oldest law—the spiritual covenant between the throne and the land. In a silent, thunderous act, he removed his crown. And the world changed.
Out of the sacred object erupted a swarm of bees—ferocious, radiant, divine. They filled the air like thunderclouds. They were not insects; they were history awakened, memory armed, justice with wings. The invaders were thrown into chaos—horses stampeded, soldiers screamed, and within minutes, what no sword could do, the spirit accomplished.
The bees did not kill indiscriminately. They judged. They stung those who came with disrespect. They protected the soil from dishonor. And when it was over, the Attah placed the crown back on his head. “This throne is not a colonial invention. These people are not for conquest. And this land remembers.”
II. SYMBOLISM DECODED: THE POLITICS OF SPIRITUAL DEFIANCE
1. THE ATTAH AND THE DE-WESTERNIZATION OF POWER
In that singular refusal to kneel, the Attah not only preserved his crown—he preserved the metaphysics of sovereignty. He did not kneel to a foreign sovereign or a symbolic queen. This was not about gender—it was about imposed hierarchy. He rejected the construct of authority that colonization brought. In so doing, he revealed that true power is not transactional, but ancestral. Not borrowed, but bestowed.
He was not just saying “no” to a woman or a crown from afar. He was saying no to spiritual fraudulence, to cultural misplacement, to a system that attempted to define Africa by erasure.
2. THE CROWN AS INDIGENOUS TECHNOLOGY
The crown of bees represents ancestral software—a sacred, spiritual interface through which the past communes with the present. It is not understood in Silicon Valley, nor can it be patented. It is memory; It is legitimacy; It is what no IMF loan can buy.; What no university can fully teach; What no Western archive can contain. It is a living document of identity, encrypted in ritual and revealed in moments of moral necessity.
3. THE BEES AS MEMORY AND JUSTICE
These bees are not just defenders—they are prophets. They sting not just to repel, but to awaken. Each sting is a question:
Who are you without your memory? What is sovereignty without history? What is justice without sacred obligation? They are the pain of forgetting. They are the reminder that ancestors do not rest when dishonor rises. In a world of disinformation and erasure, they are biological rebels, restoring truth where lies are trending.
4. AGAINST THE TIDE: THE CROWN AS SOLITUDE
The Attah stood when others bowed. He chose to be right instead of safe. In every generation, someone must carry this burden—the burden of being alone but not abandoned. The Attah’s act was not popular. It was prophetic. Today, to embody this spirit is to be the whistleblower in a sea of silence, the lone judge in a courtroom of compromise, the student who demands substance, the activist who holds the line. To stand alone today is to inherit the crown of bees.
III. TODAY’S NIGERIA: THE FORGOTTEN CROWN AND THE UNREMEMBERED SELF
1. The State of the Nation: A Hollow Empire
Nigeria is a state where: Corruption wears agbada, Justice is auctioned, Truth is trafficked, Dignity is deadened, and myth is forgotten. Our elites bow to foreign creditors. Our youth look abroad for purpose. Our politicians trade ancestral land for borrowed grammars of governance. And yet, the bees have not left.
“The crown is still with us. But it does not fly for cowards.” The story of the Attah is not just a story. It is a mirror. It tells every tribe, every clan, and every soul in Nigeria: You still have your crown.
Not just the Igala crown, but the Yoruba’s Ọdẹ, the Ijaw’s Ekine, the Tiv’s Swem, the Hausa’s Girma, the Efik’s Obongship—all these are ancestral technologies waiting to be awakened.
2. The Attah Spirit in Every Citizen- Let the Attah’s spirit rise—not just in palaces, but in:
The civil servant who refuses a bribe, The market woman who insists on fair scales, The judge who will not be bought, The teacher who teaches beyond the test, The citizen who speaks the truth in a culture of fear. This spirit is non-partisan, non-material, and non-negotiable. It is a call to become human again; To become Nigerian again, and to become Attah.
3. A Global Message to the Post-Colonial World
To the Global South, to every people whose gods were laughed at, whose names were renamed, whose identities were disrobed in the name of “civilization”—the story of the Attah is your story too.
You were not born to beg for loans. You were not born to mimic models. You were born to remember.
The West has its machines. We have our memory. They have satellites. We have spirit. They have a policy. We have ancestry. Let the world not seduce us into forgetfulness. Let the myth of the Attah be a global revolt against cultural suicide.
IV. CONCLUSION:
THE CROWN AWAITS
The Attah of Igala did not simply repel an invasion.
He preserved a cosmic order.
He stood when the world said kneel.
He remembered when others forgot.
He invoked the past to defend the future.
And today, in every home, every courtroom, every classroom, the crown of bees waits—not for warriors, but for witnesses.
The question is no longer whether the story is real.
The question is: Will you remove your crown when the time comes?
Will your ancestors fly? Or will your silence doom your children to kneel?
Let every Nigerian become an Attah.
Let every honest act be a crown.
Let every sting of truth be a swarm.
And let the world know: We were never conquered. We only forgot. Now, we remember.
Authored by:
Ujah Israel Ujah, Esq. B.Phil, LL.B, B.L, LL.M, (Ph.D in view)
Advocate of Memory | Voice of the Forgotten | Witness of the Ancestral Truth.
“In the theatre of nations, some wear crowns of gold, others wear crowns of shame. But a few—few-those who remember—wear crowns of bees.” Let it be known that we are not powerless. We are only forgetful.
Let it be remembered that to reclaim the future, we must resurrect the past. And when the empires come again—clothed in policy, cloaked in aid, whispering reform—may they find not a people ready to kneel, but a people crowned in fire and memory.
The crown is not in a palace.
It is in every act of truth.
It waits on your head.
May your ancestors fly.
May your silence break.
May your courage sting.
