If one visited the palace of the Oba (‘god-king’) of Benin during the period before the Eighteenth Century AD, one would have been dazzled – as was the Dutch geographer Olfert Dapper – by the walls, which were covered in brass and bronze plaques. When new, and in the bright light of the Nigerian sunshine, it must have been blinding, shining like an otherworldly entity from which the Oba would emerge for war or for the great festivals of the Kingdom. The brass and bronze plaques could be read like a storybook, depicting scenes from the history of the Kingdom. Some were, as Dapper surmised, historical scenes, referring to famous battles or encounters, or important events. Others were allegorical scenes, depicting the Oba in various ceremonial and religious situations, fulfilling his obligations to the Benin people. Still others depicted programmatic scenes, of a particular type, which may have acted as breaks in the story, a kind of visual ‘punctuation mark’. Alongside these plaques, in the halls of the Palace, were altars with yet more bronze, this time cast into sculptures in-the-round. Most often, these were the portrait-heads of previous rulers, and Queen-Mothers (iyobas), whose memory was honoured in this way. ‘Memory’ is the crucial word here: in the Edo language, spoken by the largest ethnic group in the Benin Empire, the verb ‘to remember’ (sa-e-y-ama) also means ‘to cast a motif in bronze’. Bronzeworking not only recorded memory, it also propagated it. Through depicting the exploits of the Oba, the story of the Benin Empire was retold, and the culture of the Benin people was propagated.

This figure, depicting a well-dressed warrior on horseback, falls under the same category as the altar figures, though it is not clear how straightforwardly. It can be easily ascertained that this is no ordinary warrior. His tall feathered crown, similar in shape to a pineapple, is an obvious marker of his social status. Similarly, his network tunic, decorated with cowrie shells, is a similarly important indicator. One must remember that West Africa was the heart of the cowrie shell economy. Small, portable, and durable, the shells of the money cowrie (Monetaria moneta) were preferred over gold in this region, at least by King Gezo of the neighbouring Kingdom of Dahomey. In Benin, north of the usual cowrie-trading area, the shells were of even greater value. The warrior depicted here is essentially wearing fifty dollar bills on his shirt. His elaborate ruff, which protrudes a great distance form his neck, also suggests that this is a man more used to command than action. One cannot imagine that this particular arrangement enabled the manoeuvrability needed in the heat of battle. But the biggest and most important status-symbol of all is the horse on which he sits. In the Kingdom of Benin, ownership of horses was restricted to the reigning Oba, and to various high-ranking military and civil officials. Owning a horse demonstrated a close connection to the structures of power, and thus the favour of the ancestors. The horse is presented in the traditional Benin style, with short legs and a plump body, a large head with long ears and big eyes. Both horse and rider share the same large almond-shaped eyes, which are often a reference to ancestors, and therefore the memory of the past, in Benin contexts.

This figure is of a type known from the Sixteenth Century AD, and a very fine example from this period can be found in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (7.12.2012). The Boston example, formerly in the private collection of the Pitt-Rivers family, was long thought to be a representation of an Oba, perhaps Esigie (reigned AD 1504 – AD 1550), the most famous of the Benin monarchs, on the basis of thermoluminescence testing of the earthenware core of the example now in the World Museum, Liverpool (1978.226.1). However, a recent re-interpretation of the Boston figure has convincingly argued for the effigy to be re-assigned as a foreigner. Given that the same rules pertaining to dress and status were prevalent for the neighbours of the Benin Kingdom, this would then also be a neighbouring monarch. This has been a matter of some debate. An equestrian figure now in the British Museum (Af1944,04.13) has been argued to represent a ruler of the Nupe or Igala peoples, subject vassals of the Benin Empire, thanks to the cat’s-whiskers scarification marks common to those tribes. Such scarification is absent from the Barakat example. Alternatively, it is proposed that the rider depicted was the Attah (king) of the Idah, a people who were defeated by Oba Esigie in the early Sixteenth Century. Finally, others have interpreted the figure as an Oba in foreign dress, perhaps Esigie riding the horse he received as a present from King Emmanuel of Portugal to mark his accession.

The Barakat figure is doubtless an early Twentieth Century AD replacement for the sixteen known equestrian figures, which were largely taken from Benin City during the British punitive expedition of AD 1897. Depending on our interpretation, he may represent the Oba himself, perhaps in a mixture of African and European finery (note that he wears spurs, which were unheard of in most parts of Sub-Saharan Africa), or he may be a vassal or a defeated enemy. Either way, equestrian statues were a symbol of the Benin monarch’s power. The arrival of the Oba on horseback was one of the most significant events in the Benin calendar, an integral part of the main festival, Igue, which marked the King’s annual appearance before his people. It must be noted that there were few cavalrymen, and most individuals in Benin City may never have seen a horse in their daily lives. The monarch’s appearance on such a mighty tamed beast was befitting his role as the intermediary between nature and humanity.

References: equestrian figures of this type are known in Lagos (National Museum 59.23.7), London (British Museum Af1944,04.13), Liverpool (1978.226.1), Vienna (Weltmuseum 64.796), and Boston, Massachusetts (7.12.2012).