The Seeds of Discontent: A System Imposed

To understand the Women’s War, we must first understand the system the women were fighting against. By the 1920s, British influence in Nigeria was solidified through a policy of “Indirect Rule.” The idea was to govern through existing local power structures. However, in Igbo land, traditional society was largely democratic and decentralized, lacking the hierarchical chieftaincies the British were accustomed to. Power was diffuse, with village assemblies and councils of elders making decisions. Crucially, women had their own respected institutions and a significant voice in community affairs.

Unable or unwilling to grasp this complex system, the British created their own. They appointed local men as “Warrant Chiefs”, giving them a warrant to act as local administrators, judges, and tax collectors. These men were often chosen not for their traditional authority or wisdom, but for their willingness to cooperate with the colonial regime. Overnight, these Warrant Chiefs became immensely powerful, often corrupt, and deeply resented. They were seen as puppets of the British, disrupting social balance and undermining the traditional Igbo way of life.

Economic pressures added fuel to the fire. Global prices for palm oil and kernels—a primary source of income for many market women—had plummeted. To increase revenue, the colonial government imposed a direct tax on men in 1928, causing widespread hardship. By late 1929, rumors began to swirl that the British were planning to extend the tax to women as well.

The Spark That Ignited the Flame

The breaking point came in November 1929, in the town of Oloko. A man named Mark Emeruwa, an agent for a local Warrant Chief, arrived at the compound of a widow named Nwanyeruwa. Following his instructions to conduct a census of people and livestock, he began counting her goats and chickens. Nwanyeruwa, suspicious and defiant, challenged him.

When Emeruwa insisted she be counted, implying she would soon be taxed, she retorted with a question that would become the movement’s rallying cry: “Was your widowed mother counted?”

This was not just a personal insult; it was a profound political statement. It questioned the legitimacy of an invasive system that violated cultural norms and threatened the economic independence of women, especially vulnerable widows. Nwanyeruwa did not stop there. She went to the local market, the central nervous system of Igbo society, and recounted the incident to the other women. Using traditional methods of communication—market gatherings and palm leaves sent as invitations—the news spread like wildfire.

“Sitting on a Man”: A Traditional Protest Weaponized

The women’s response was rooted in a powerful Igbo tradition known as mikiri, or “sitting on a man.” When a man in the community committed a serious offense—abusing his wife, for example, or violating market rules—the women would gather at his compound. They would chant, sing songs detailing his misdeeds, and bang on his hut, essentially shaming him with public ridicule until he repented and made amends.

In 1929, the women of the Niger Delta scaled up this practice for a new, revolutionary purpose. They weren’t just “sitting on” one man; they were “sitting on” the entire colonial system. Their targets were the Warrant Chiefs, the symbols of British oppression. Thousands of women from countless villages left their homes and converged on administrative centers, their primary weapon being their collective voice and presence.

The War Unfolds: From Oloko to Aba and Beyond

First, over 10,000 women marched on the administrative center in Oloko, demanding the Warrant Chief surrender his official cap—the symbol of his colonial authority. They chanted, danced, and refused to leave until their grievances were heard. The protest rapidly spread across the Bende, Umuahia, and Owerri provinces, reaching the major commercial town of Aba, which gave the event its colonial name.

The women’s actions were highly symbolic and targeted:

• They surrounded and besieged the district offices and Native Courts built by the British.
• They destroyed colonial property, especially the hated courthouses and the homes of Warrant Chiefs.
• They demanded the removal of the corrupt chiefs and an end to the taxation.

It’s crucial to note that their “war” was overwhelmingly directed at symbols of power, not people. Armed with sticks, cooking utensils, and their songs, they were a political force, not a bloodthirsty mob.

The Colonial Response: Misunderstanding and Violence

The British were completely bewildered. Accustomed to patriarchal societies, they could not comprehend a mass political movement planned and executed by rural women. Dismissing their organized protest as hysterical “riots”, a result of “mob psychology”, their response was swift and brutal.

Colonial police and troops were dispatched to quell the “disturbances.” At Aba, and more notoriously at Opobo, they fired into crowds of unarmed women protesters. In what became known as the Opobo Massacre, dozens of women were killed and many more wounded. In total, over 50 women lost their lives in the crackdown. The contrast was stark: the women used social and political pressure; the colonial state used bullets.

The Legacy of Ogu Umunwanyi

Despite the tragic violence, the Women’s War was a stunning success. The colonial government was forced to act:

• The plan to tax women was abandoned and would not be attempted again.
• Dozens of Warrant Chiefs were forced to resign.
• The entire system of Indirect Rule in southeastern Nigeria was fundamentally reformed in the following years to better reflect indigenous structures.

The legacy of the Women’s War of 1929 is monumental. It stands as one of the most significant anti-colonial revolts in African history and a powerful testament to female agency. These women not only challenged foreign rule but also the patriarchal structures it imposed. They demonstrated how traditional female networks and practices could be transformed into a potent force for political change.

Remembering this event as the “Women’s War”, not the “Aba Riots”, is an act of historical justice. It honors the strategic brilliance, profound courage, and political purpose of Nwanyeruwa and the tens of thousands of women who rose up, not as a chaotic mob, but as a united front to defend their dignity, their economic independence, and their world.