By Egufe Yafugborhi
Penultimate week, two Senior Advocates of Nigeria (SAN), seated on ancestral thrones, issued proclamations that set their kingdoms talking. One banned the sale of ogbono seeds in indigenous markets; the other banned cultism and drug abuse.
Both carry the weight of tradition. Both have raised a hard question: in 2026 Nigeria, what is the legal force of a royal word?
The proclamations
On August 5, 2025, the Asagba of Asaba, HRM Prof. Epiphany Chigbogu Azinge, SAN, OON, through the Omu Ahaba, Obi Chief Dr. Ada Biosah, and the Ndi Eze Ahaba, banned the sale of ogbono seeds (okoru enu) in Asaba’s indigenous markets.
The palace said the seed is a forbidden item with “traditional and spiritual consequences dating back to time immemorial.” Market unions and a new taskforce will be used for sensitisation and compliance.
“The mantra is simple: Don’t sell it in our indigenous markets. You can buy it outside Asaba and cook it in your residence for consumption. This is our tradition and it must be obeyed,” Dr. Biosah said. No clear penalties were announced.
In the Olomu Kingdom, Ughelli South LGA, days later, HRM Albert Akpomudje, SAN, Eyavwien-Alaka I, and Chairman of the Body of Benchers in Nigeria, banned all cult-related activities and illicit drug abuse across his domain. Those involved must renounce membership or “face appropriate consequences,” he warned.
The proclamation followed a meeting with community leaders as part of efforts to strengthen peace and security. The Ohworode urged security agencies to partner with communities to enforce the ban and prosecute offenders.
Interrogating authority: Custom vs. Constitution
In pre-colonial Nigeria, a monarch’s word was law. Today, Section 36(12) of the 1999 Constitution says no one can be punished for an offence unless it is prescribed in written law.
So, what is the actual worth of these decrees? Legal experts say they carry moral weight, not criminal power.
Barrister Omens Ogedegbe, a social justice advocate, explains: “Traditional rulers are custodians of culture and agents of peace. However, their authority operates within the framework of the Constitution. They may preserve customs and support law enforcement, but they cannot legislate, create criminal offences or impose punishments outside the authority of written law.
“On the ogbono ban, the Asagba may declare that the sale of fresh ogbono is contrary to custom. He cannot lawfully direct the arrest, prosecution or imprisonment of any trader solely for selling fresh ogbono unless there exists statutory authority. On the Olomu ban, although the proclamation adds no new criminal offences, it serves important community purposes. It reinforces existing laws, publicly demonstrates the palace’s intolerance for criminality, and mobilises community support.”
Austin Nyekigbe, a rights activist and immediate past Secretary of the NBA, Udu Branch, agrees: “If the sanction is purely traditional, denial of honours, exclusion from rites, it may be enforceable within the community. But any fine, imprisonment, or confiscation must derive from law, not a royal proclamation.”
Like Ogedegbe, Nyekigbe concurs that the Ohworode’s statement is “more of a policy declaration and community directive than a legislative enactment,” to withdraw traditional protection from offenders and signal that criminals will not find shelter in his kingdom.
The street responds: ‘Tradition vs. Right to choose’
Reactions, sharply divided and directed at the Asagba, have been concentrated on the ogbono ban in Asaba. Matthew O. Michael said: “As a Professor, you should know better. Rather than being overly pragmatic, we should strive to open more doors and create greater opportunities for progress.”
Destiny Akwunwa: “Which means I will start buying it from Agbor and blend it at home. Imagine one of the best soups with ujuju, mixed with black fish and cow meat.”
Kingsley Chibogwu: “Tradition and culture are man-made. If such traditions are no longer relevant, it is important to overhaul them.”
Rosemary Odiatu: “I love our Asagba but you can’t trample on my right to eat any food. Keep your tradition in your palace. This food matter is a no-go area.” Ifesiokwu Greg defended the palace: “Nobody is stopping you from eating in your house. Buy from elsewhere. With the measures on the ground to checkmate sales in our markets, those who eat will get it stocked up.”
Good Good was very blunt: “You have no right to issue declarations and orders. In Asaba, we don’t roll like that. You do what the people want. I look forward to your reversing this miscalculation with a very long apology.”
Omar Almukhtar warned: “Asagba, forget you are a SAN. If you infringe on my rights, I will sue you. Where your right stops is where others’ begin.”
What changes?
Both proclamations are politically and socially powerful. They leverage the respect accorded to the throne to shape behaviour.
But legally, their limits are clear. The Ohworode cannot try cultists. The Asagba cannot jail ogbono sellers. Enforcement of criminal matters must still go through the police and courts.
What the decrees can do is set a community standard, mobilise gatekeepers, and withdraw cultural legitimacy from certain acts. In that space, tradition still matters.
As Nyekigbe puts it: “Both carry significant moral and traditional weight, but any coercive sanction must ultimately be supported by Nigerian law and enforced through legally recognised institutions.”
For Asaba traders and Olomu youths, the message is out. Whether they obey depends less on the palace gavel and more on how far the community is willing to go to defend custom in a constitutional democracy.
