Indigenous legal traditions and gender justice in Nigeria: tales of contradictions and continuities

Once upon a time, in a quiet Nigerian village nestled between rolling hills and winding rivers, an old woman who seemed to always carry a smile on her wrinkled face, known to everyone as Mama Aboje, sat under the shade of an ancient tree, peeling groundnuts, which is the preparation to her telling a story. Around her, excited children and elders alike gathered, eager for her wisdom. She looked around her, and after being certain she got everyone's attention, she smiled and began, "In our time, justice was simple!” if you stole a goat, you either paid back with three similar goats or spent a week rolling a giant stone through the village while children chanted about the evils of stealing. Everyone was wide-eyed, and before she could continue that tale, someone interjected, and asked, “Please tell us a story about gender justice.” She was silent for a while and then said, "Gender justice? Ah, that one... that one is complicated."

She paused for rather a long moment, and she seemed lost in another world for a moment. Pointing her frail fingers above the heads of those present, she said- “from beyond the rivers and hills, tales drifted of women who once ruled, warriors and traders who shaped their communities”. She then continued this time with a rather sad tone- “but their stories, much like the whispers of the harmattan wind, were fading”. The question lingered: Who would tell them?

When customary law meets gender roles

Nigeria’s indigenous legal traditions are much like Mama Aboje’s storytelling—full of wisdom, contradictions, and the occasional headache-inducing logic. Many of these customs have governed communities for centuries, shaping justice, inheritance, and gender roles. The problem? Some of these traditions seem to have been written by ancestors who firmly believed women should be seen and not heard—and preferably occupied with pounding yam in the kitchen. Take Igbo customary laws, for instance, where women dominate the markets with the skill of Wall Street traders, yet many communities still insist that only sons can inherit the land. As if daughters left to their own devices, would accidentally transform fertile farmland into a flower garden. The historic case of Ukeje v Ukeje [2014]11 NWLR(Pt 1418)384 questioned this with the Supreme Court ruling that female children have the right to inherit property under Igbo customary law. A victory, yes, but someone should check on old Chief Okafor, who seems disappointed, and still mutters, "Tradition is tradition, what is happening to the world?" If only he knew that just a hundred miles away, another tribe allows women to inherit freely. The difference? Some traditions were told louder than others.

Queen Amina’s legacy and selective memory

Now, the Hausa-Fulani legal system, shaped by Islamic principles, offers women inheritance rights—at half the share of men. The logic? Since men bear financial responsibility for the family, they receive a larger portion (or, depending on who you ask, extra funds for acquiring yet another wife). While Islamic law offers some protections, cultural interpretations often overshadow its fairness, leaving many women at the mercy of biased customs rather than religious justice. One wonders if they have forgotten Queen Amina of Zazzau, the warrior queen who led men into battle and expanded her kingdom. Maybe what women need is not permission but a reminder—that power was never a privilege handed to them, but one they once wielded.

Yoruba pragmatism (with a dash of patriarchy)

Ah, the Yoruba who are known for their seemingly more egalitarian approach. Yoruba women can own businesses, hold chieftaincy titles, and sometimes even rule entire towns. But before we celebrate too soon, let’s remember that certain leadership roles, like the Baale (traditional ruler), remain exclusively male. When asked why, an elderly chief chuckled and said, "Ah, my son, if we let women be Baales, who will remind us to eat?". Because, of course, it takes a village of men to run a kingdom, but only a woman to ensure nobody starves.

The tug-of-war between tradition and change

The contradictions in some of Nigeria’s Indigenous laws are everywhere: women can be the economic backbone of the community but not the legal heirs; they can trade in markets but not own land: they can testify in customary courts but often find their voices drowned in a sea of “the men have spoken.” Yet, there is continuity too, as gender justice in Nigeria has always been a negotiation between tradition and transformation, however, implementation remains inconsistent.

A new chapter waiting to be written

So, what now? It is possible that, as Mama Aboje points out, it is important to identify the narratives that were subjugated because traditions are not fossils; they are living, breathing things that have been changing for centuries. Women’s voices, long treated as mere whispers in the grand narrative, must become roars. Maybe, just maybe, the next chapter of Nigerian indigenous law will be one where justice isn’t a privilege of gender, but a right for all. And if that happens, Mama Aboje will finally smile and say, "Now, that’s a story worth telling."

About the writer

Gabriel Omachi is a PhD Candidate in Law at the Open University and is presently in his third year. He specializes in Gender and Sexuality Bias in Nigerian Law. His research investigates the colonial and religious origins of discriminatory laws in Nigeria, utilizing a multidisciplinary approach that combines legal, historical, and social legal analysis.

He holds an LLM from the University of Jos, Nigeria, where he also earned his LLB with honors. He is a Barrister and Solicitor of the Supreme Court of Nigeria, with experience practicing law in various Nigerian states. His professional experience includes serving in various roles within the Jos Branch of the Nigerian Bar Association, such as Secretary of the Disciplinary Committee and Chair of the Human Rights Committee. He has also dedicated his time to volunteering with NGOs, providing legal assistance to underprivileged individuals, and advocating for human rights.

His research interests lie at the intersection of law, history, and social justice. He is passionate about understanding how colonial legacies and cultural and religious influences have shaped contemporary Nigerian jurisprudence, particularly concerning issues of gender and sexuality. His PhD research will contribute to a deeper understanding of the historical roots of discrimination in Nigeria and inform strategies for promoting social justice and equality.