Imagine being a child, barely old enough to understand the world, torn from your home in a violent raid, your family gone, your future uncertain. Now picture that same child, years later, standing before Queen Victoria, not as a captive but as a goddaughter. This isn’t a fairy tale-it’s the real-life story of Sarah Forbes Bonetta, a woman whose life feels like it was plucked from the pages of a novel. How does someone go from a cage in a West African kingdom to the inner circle of British royalty? Let’s dive into her incredible tale.
Born around 1843 in a Yoruba village called Oke-Odan, her name was Aina-or maybe Ina, depending on who you ask. It means she came into the world tangled in a nuchal cord, a birth complication that somehow feels like a metaphor for the challenges she’d face. Her early years were marked by tragedy. The Kingdom of Dahomey, a fierce West African power, was at war with her people, the Egbado Yoruba. By 1848, Dahomey’s army swept through her village. Her parents were killed, and Aina, just a little girl, was taken as a slave to the court of King Ghezo. Can you imagine the terror of that moment? A child, alone, surrounded by strangers who saw her as a bargaining chip-or worse, a sacrifice.
King Ghezo’s court was no gentle place. Dahomey thrived on the Atlantic slave trade, and human sacrifice was woven into its rituals. Aina was spared the worst fates, likely because of the intricate tribal markings on her face, a sign she came from a family of status. But her life hung by a thread. She was kept in a cage, taunted with the knowledge that she was being “saved” for a ceremonial slaughter, her blood meant to honor the king’s ancestors. It’s chilling to think about, isn’t it? How does a child process that kind of fear?
Then, in 1850, everything changed. Captain Frederick Forbes, a British Royal Navy officer, arrived in Dahomey on a mission to persuade Ghezo to abandon the slave trade. It didn’t go well-Ghezo was defiant, even proud of his kingdom’s brutal traditions. During a tense exchange of gifts, as was customary, Ghezo offered Forbes a small, quiet girl: Aina. Forbes, horrified by the thought of leaving her to die in a ritual, accepted her as a “gift” for Queen Victoria. He renamed her Sarah Forbes Bonetta, after himself and his ship, the HMS Bonetta. And just like that, her life took a turn no one could have predicted.
When Sarah met Queen Victoria, she wasn’t just a curiosity-she was a revelation. The queen was struck by her intelligence, her poise, despite the horrors she’d endured. Sarah told her story, her voice likely trembling as she described the cage, the taunts, the executions she’d witnessed. Victoria, moved by this young girl’s resilience, decided to take her under her wing. Sarah became her goddaughter, raised in the British middle class. You know how rare that must have been? A West African girl, once enslaved, now part of the royal circle in 19th-century England. It’s the kind of story that makes you pause and wonder about the strange twists of fate.
But life in England wasn’t all smooth sailing. By 1851, Sarah developed a chronic cough, blamed on Britain’s damp, chilly climate. At eight years old, she was sent to a school in Sierra Leone, the Annie Walsh Memorial School, to escape the cold and continue her education. She returned to England at 12, living with a reverend’s family in Gillingham. Imagine the culture shock-going from a Yoruba village to Dahomey’s court, then to Victorian England, and now to Sierra Leone and back. Yet Sarah adapted, her intelligence shining through. She even attended the wedding of Queen Victoria’s daughter, Princess Alice, in 1862. Picture her there, a young Black woman in a sea of British aristocracy, holding her own.
That same year, at Queen Victoria’s urging, Sarah married Captain James Pinson Labulo Davies, a wealthy Yoruba businessman and philanthropist. They wed in Brighton, in a church filled with the weight of expectation. The couple moved to Lagos, where Sarah became a teacher, pouring her strength into shaping young minds. They had three children-Victoria, Arthur, and Stella-and their eldest, Victoria Matilda, was named after the queen herself, who became her godmother. Isn’t that wild? A girl once destined for sacrifice now had her daughter under royal protection.
Sarah’s story, though, doesn’t end with a tidy happily-ever-after. In 1880, at just 37, she died of tuberculosis in Madeira, Portugal. Her husband, devastated, built an eight-foot granite obelisk in her memory in Lagos, a testament to a woman who defied every odd. Her grave in Funchal’s British Cemetery still stands, a quiet marker of an extraordinary life.
Sarah’s legacy ripples through time. Her descendants, including the Ebola heroine Ameyo Adadevoh, carried her strength forward. A plaque in Gillingham, a portrait at Osborne House, a mural in Medway-all these honor her today. She’s even been portrayed in the TV series Victoria, her story reaching new audiences. But beyond the tributes, what sticks with me is her resilience. How did she find the courage to keep going? To build a life after so much loss? Her story feels like a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there’s a chance for something new, something unexpected.
So, what do you think-could you face a journey like Sarah’s with that kind of grace? Her life makes me wonder about the stories we all carry, the ones that shape us when the world turns upside down.