They thought they were slick. The Benin warriors handed them the embarrassment of the century. Spoiler alert: They didn’t even leave with a souvenir.
The Day British Thieves Collected “Premium Woto Woto”
Imagine it’s 1897. The Benin Empire is glowing harder than a fresh shining brighter than anOwanbe wedding reception. The Oba’s palace is basically Art Heaven™, filled with those iconic Benin Bronzes — sculptures so elite, they’d have their own TikTok trends today. Life is good. Vibes are elite.
Then some British soldiers, running on colonial audacity and stale tea, decide it’s time to “borrow” a few bronzes. Borrow without returning, of course. In their minds, they’re about to pull off the heist of the century. Big mistake.
They rolled up to the Benin Empire thinking they were on some Hollywood “Fast & Furious” mission. They left looking like the side characters who get knocked out in the first 10 minutes.
The Oba: King of ‘Don’t Stress Me’ Energy
Oba Ovonramwen was a whole spec. Calm, collected, and sharper than your uncle’s tailor during Christmas rush. He didn’t do unnecessary drama. When he heard some British dudes were planning to swipe his bronzes, he didn’t lose sleep. He just looked at his warriors and said,
“Handle it.”
And by “handle it,” he meant “Deliver them their portion of breakfast” (and not the romantic kind).
The Heist That Collected Bashed Headlights
The British soldiers pulled up with confidence levels high. They thought they’d slide in, grab some artifacts, and flex back home like they were on a souvenir spree in Balogun Market. They probably had pep talks like:
“Alright, lads, we’ve got this!”
Meanwhile, the Benin warriors were already in position, sipping palm wine and waiting for the mumu moment to kick in.
The soldiers reached out to touch the bronzes, and the warriors burst out like, “Wahala for who no fear Oba!”
Swords started flying. Spears were doing waka pass. The soldiers were suddenly in a live-action horror film. Their plan collapsed faster than a cheap umbrella in rainy season. They ran, tripped over their colonial boots, and probably screamed, “God abeg!”
Exit Strategy: ‘Where’s the Nearest BRT?’
If you thought they had a backup plan, think again. These guys fled the scene like Lagosians running from LASTMA. Their hats flew off. Their pride evaporated. Someone’s grandpa probably got a kick to the shin.
No bronzes. No glory. Just bruises, tears, and PTSD they didn’t see coming. They returned to their camp looking like they’d just fought 10 rounds with Amadioha.
And the Bronzes? Still Flexing
The Benin Bronzes stayed home, shining like diamonds on a billionaire’s wrist. The lesson was clear:
“Don’t play with Nigerians and their treasures.”
Fast forward to today, and these bronzes are still out here causing conversations in museums. If you listen closely, they’re whispering, “Dem try us. We bin tell dem.”
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