Do Igbos Reject Selling Land to Outsiders? A Story from My Southeast Childhood
Dr. Ruben Abati of Arise TV has sparked a controversial debate about whether Igbos in Southeast Nigeria sell land to non-Igbos. Recounting the experience of Chief Theophilus Benson, Abati claimed that despite the entrepreneurial spirit of the Igbos, they often refuse to sell their land to outsiders.
But how true is this claim?
In Nigeria’s ethnically polarized society, such discussions often take on the lens of tribalism. A truthful observation, for instance, that the northern region of the country—predominantly Hausa and Fulani—accounts for 65 percent of poor people in Nigeria, could spark accusations of tribal bias and even physical riots, particularly if such an observation were made by an Igbo person.
It is from this understanding of Nigeria’s unique ethnic tensions—frequently exploited and amplified for political reasons, as we saw during the 2023 elections—that I approach Abati’s comment. While his statement lacks proper context and could be construed as implying that the Igbos are unwelcoming despite their widespread presence and dominance in many parts of Nigeria, it deserves honest introspection by the Igbos themselves.
Having been born and raised in the Southeast, I can attest to the complexities surrounding land ownership in the region, especially when viewed through cultural, communal, and individual lenses.
The late Professor Azuka Dike, an anthropologist, explored these intricacies in his research paper, Land Tenure System in Igboland, where he discussed the cultural evolution of land ownership in Igboland.
“Traditionally, land was the property of the living and the dead, and the idea of disposing of it was a sacrilege. Even then, portions of land had always been owned collectively and individually,” he wrote.
Also Read: Do Igbo Men Treat Their Wives as ‘Slaves’? A Look into Patriarchy in the Southeast
Communal Land Ownership Among the Igbos: Ala Umunna
In Igbo culture, some lands are communally owned. This type of land, called Ala Umunna—where Ala means land and Umunna refers to kindred—is co-owned by families united by lineage.
“Traditionally, land tenure was based on the lineage group,” writes Prof. Dike. “Each lineage group claimed or cleared as much virgin land as they could for themselves and their future generations.”
The custodian of Ala Umunna is typically the eldest person in the family. During cultivation seasons, this land is allocated to households based on agreed metrics.
My maternal uncle, for instance, was the custodian of such land when I was growing up. The lineage lands he managed were separate from those he personally owned. At the start of each cultivation season, he would call a meeting of his kinsmen to apportion the land among families. For example, an unmarried man might not be allocated land unless the elders deemed it necessary to support his efforts to achieve financial stability.
Since Ala Umunna is communally owned, selling it requires unanimous consent from all family members involved. This makes selling it nearly impossible, regardless of whether the buyer is Igbo or non-Igbo. Such land is often apportioned to family members for use but rarely sold outright.
If the land Chief Benson sought to purchase was Ala Umunna, it’s no surprise he faced resistance—it would have required decisions by multiple stakeholders.
In fact, this communal system of land ownership has been linked to delays in infrastructural development in parts of Igboland that still have large tracts of lineage land.
“The major transformation in Igbo land tenure is the manifest acceptance of alienation of land, the predominance of individual ownership, and land fragmentation,” argues Prof. Dike. “These have resulted in land hoarding and insecurity of tenure, among other things. Much more, they constitute an obstacle to community development.”
Family Land in Igbo
As the population increased, most communal lands were apportioned to lineage members. Over time, instead of temporarily allocating land at the start of each farming season, significant portions of communal land were permanently assigned to individual families, while some surplus land was retained for future needs.
Family land is often what male children inherit from their fathers. After a father’s death, his properties, including land, are divided among his children. Once inherited, the owner has the freedom to sell or keep the land.
If Chief Benson had requested such private land, he likely wouldn’t have faced much opposition.
Inherited Land: Ala Obi
Another type of land rarely sold is Ala Obi. This land, often viewed as sacred, is inherited after fulfilling traditional rites, such as burying one’s father. My father, for example, acquired Ala Obi after burying his father. Selling this land is almost unimaginable—it represents an inheritance, a treasured gift passed down through generations.
While some lands in Igboland are nearly impossible to sell due to cultural and communal considerations, private land ownership operates differently. It’s also important to note that there is little remaining communal land in Igboland, as most of it has been passed down to families due to population growth. Since Chief Benson was born 104 years ago (he died in 2008), it’s likely that his experience occurred during an era when communal land was still prevalent.
Additionally, the Southeast is the smallest geopolitical zone in Nigeria, with a landmass of 42,000 km². For context, Niger State in Northern Nigeria is almost twice the size of the Southeast. This raises the question: what land do the Igbos truly have to sell?
Although Chief Benson’s experience was likely true and not exaggerated, it reflects the complexities of land ownership in Igboland. However, it does not prove that Igbos categorically refuse to sell their land to non-Igbos. Understanding these nuances—from the types of land ownership to the scarcity of land in the region—is key to appreciating how land transactions work in the Southeast.
The views expressed in this opinion article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs, or editorial stance of Neusroom.




