For those intrigued by the history of
Black women in Africa, this photograph offers a compelling glimpse into the past. Taken on July 19, 1895, in Lagos, Nigeria, it features three women: Amina, Kemi, and Nneka.
This image likely originated from one of the early Lagos-based photographic studios that catered to middle-class Africans eager to document their aspirations. Such portraits weren’t merely keepsakes—they were statements of identity, pride, and social standing in an era of shifting norms.
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| Amina, Kemi, and Nneka |
In 1895, Lagos was transforming rapidly. The British colonial administration had annexed Lagos just three decades earlier, in 1861. This was a period of expanding infrastructure, increased missionary influence, and economic restructuring. Yet amidst these shifts,
African women like Amina, Kemi, and Nneka found ways to assert influence within their spheres.
Everyday Heroines Black Women in Colonial Lagos, 1895 Amina, Kemi, and Nneka
Their clothing, blending lace-trimmed blouses, layered skirts, and ornate necklaces with a Victorian influence, reflects the cultural fusion of colonial Lagos. As a bustling port under British rule, the city gave women opportunities to shine as traders, educators, or healers.
Unseen Histories: Lagos Women Who Shaped 19th-Century Nigeria
Amina the Trader
Amina mastered the art of market trading in colonial Lagos, a city whose marketplaces were not just centers of commerce, but vital networks of power and influence. She navigated price shifts, supplier negotiations, and colonial taxation with precision, asserting autonomy in a male-dominated economy. In a time when formal economic structures often excluded African women, Amina thrived through her knowledge of goods, customer relationships, and market rhythms. Her success offered a blueprint for female economic independence, proving that Lagosian women were not passive bystanders but economic engines in their own right.
Kemi the Teacher
Kemi dedicated herself to education during a time when missionary schools were expanding across Lagos, reshaping literacy and social mobility. As a teacher, she stood at the crossroads of tradition and modernity, guiding young minds through colonial curricula while subtly preserving cultural knowledge and values. Her work was more than instruction—it was cultural preservation and adaptation. Teaching girls in particular gave them the tools to navigate a new social order, and Kemi’s quiet labor helped seed a future of literate, empowered African women.
Nneka the Storyteller and Healer
Nneka carried ancestral wisdom through her dual role as storyteller and healer. Her storytelling preserved communal memory, transmitting moral lessons, historical knowledge, and cultural identity to younger generations. As a healer, she applied herbal knowledge passed down through generations, offering care in ways that Western medicine often overlooked or dismissed. Her influence was deeply spiritual—rooted in respect for nature, tradition, and unseen forces that shaped daily life. Nneka embodied a form of leadership often invisible to colonial authorities but essential to the soul and survival of her community.
Everyday Heroines: Black Women in Colonial Lagos, 1895
Life brought significant obstacles. British colonization disrupted traditional structures and imposed new social norms. Yet, these women showed resilience, maintaining economic independence and cultural identity. The umbrella in the image symbolizes their status. This portrait, probably taken to celebrate a business success or family milestone on that warm July day, highlights their ability to thrive.
Beyond their elegance, Amina, Kemi, and Nneka represent ordinary, everyday
African women—not queens or rulers, but the backbone of their community. They toil in the shadows, holding everything together with their quiet strength. Whether bargaining in markets, teaching children, or healing the sick, they sustain the social fabric, their contributions often overlooked yet indispensable to the community’s survival and growth.
Photographs like this are more than static images—they are living documents.
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| Amina, Kemi, and Nneka |
The Girl Who Danced with the Moon
As told by Nneka, Lagos, 1895
In the heart of Lagos in 1895, Nneka the healer was known not only for her herbal wisdom but for the stories she wove by firelight. One of her most beloved tales was that of a young girl named Ijeoma and her magical encounter with the moon.
A Night Unlike Any Other
Long ago, when the sky was closer to the earth, the moon would sometimes descend to sit beside the river. One evening, a curious girl named Ijeoma followed the moonlight through the trees. She moved quietly, her feet brushing the ground like leaves on water. The moon did not hear her coming.
There, by the riverbank, sat the moon—silver, round, and humming a soft song.
“Come,” the moon said, “dance with me.”
Ijeoma danced. Her feet stirred the sand, her arms swirled like smoke, and her laughter rippled through the forest. They danced until the stars dimmed. Before rising back into the sky, the moon gave Ijeoma a riddle:
“If you carry light, do not fear the dark. But if you carry pride, the light may go out.”
When Pride Casts a Shadow
Ijeoma returned to her village glowing. Where she stepped, crops grew faster. Where she sang, sick children grew strong. But pride crept into her heart. She refused to help sweep the compound or fetch water. “I danced with the moon,” she said. “I am above such things.”
One night, the moon returned—but did not descend. It passed silently over the river. Ijeoma waited, but the moon did not call her again. Her glow faded. Her blessings left her. Only when she humbled herself—helping, cleaning, and serving others—did the moonlight return, not to her skin, but to her heart.
From then on, Ijeoma danced not to be admired, but to bring joy. And the moon, though it never came down again, shone brighter when it passed above her village.
Moral: Power without humility fades like light before dawn. But a humble heart shines even in darkness.
Why Nneka’s Tales Still Matter
In telling this story, Nneka passed down more than a tale—she transmitted cultural memory. These stories taught children how to behave, reminded adults of their duties, and kept spiritual wisdom alive amid the pressures of colonial rule.
Let us remember women like Nneka who preserved entire histories with nothing but their voices and their hearts. What stories did your own ancestors leave behind? Explore your family albums, ask questions, and uncover the everyday heroes in your own lineage.
For students, researchers, and lovers of African history, this portrait is more than a glimpse into the past—it is a mirror reflecting the enduring presence of African women as culture bearers, educators, entrepreneurs, and healers. Let us not overlook the seemingly “ordinary.” In their grace, grit, and garments, Amina, Kemi, and Nneka left a legacy far greater than any title could confer.
