How can a public sculpture by a master artist vanish without any explanation from the authorities? The curious disappearance of the commissioned 1978 4-foot bronze masterpiece by the legendary Nigerian artist Ben Enwonwu, titled “The Drummer,” is the subject of a viral post by artist and writer Mudiare Onobrakpeya. His January post is titled: “The Missing Drummer: Ben Enwonwu’s Lost Landmark at NITEL House.”
The disappearance of this sculpture is a hot issue in the Nigerian art world. It was commissioned for the NET Building (later the NITEL/NECOM House), which was the country’s telecoms nerve centre, on Marina, Lagos. The work stood there majestically from 1979 until it disappeared mysteriously around 2022.
It depicted a traditional drummer and was meant to symbolise telecommunications—the drum being Africa’s oldest long-distance signaling system. “The Drummer was a masterstroke of symbolism,” Onobrakpeya observed.
The piece remains missing. Art historians and the artist’s family have raised questions about its “silent disappearance.” Onobrakpeya lamented: “Not relocated with ceremony. Not conserved in a museum. Not publicly documented. Simply absent—absorbed into the familiar silence that surrounds cultural loss in Nigeria.” He said: The seriousness of this disappearance lies not only in the artwork itself, but in what the building represented… proof that modern Nigeria could rise high without abandoning its cultural voice.”
According to him, “the story of the sculpture’s fate is riddled with contradictions. Some public records suggest it is still there. Others—more credibly—state that it was removed. A national newspaper quotes Enwonwu’s son confirming that the work used to be at NITEL before it was taken down. Architectural commentary suggests it remained visible until around 2022, making its disappearance recent, traceable, and verifiable.”
He argued: “This confusion is precisely how cultural assets vanish in plain sight. When certainty dissolves, accountability follows.
“NITEL’s institutional collapse and the murky afterlife of its properties created ideal conditions for heritage loss. But one principle must be stated clearly: the sale or transfer of a building does not automatically include the right to remove public art.”
The inevitable question: What happened to the artwork? “There are only three plausible scenarios,” Onobrakpeya reasoned. His thoughts: “First, removal for renovation or safety—if so, there should be records, condition reports, storage locations, and photographs.
“Second, quiet transfer into private hands—where silence slowly converts patrimony into property. Third, outright theft disguised by bureaucratic confusion.”
According to him, “Any of these scenarios is traceable—if the will to investigate exists. Public sculpture is not like private painting. A painting can disappear into a home. A public monument disappears in full view—and the public is told to move on. When a society accepts that, it signals that stealing from the commons is easy.”
There is no question that the situation demands action from the authorities. Onobrakpeya called for: “A public declaration of the sculpture’s status. A proper inventory of Enwonwu’s monumental works. Heritage and law-enforcement involvement. And a recovery effort focused not on scandal, but on restoration and public access.”
Ultimately, he argued, “The Drummer is not just missing bronze. What is missing with it is governance—the discipline of knowing what we own, where it is, who is responsible, and how it is protected.”
He added that until the missing sculpture is clearly accounted for, “every institution connected to that building remains part of the chain of disappearance.”
Ben Enwonwu, a painter and sculptor, died in Lagos in 1994, aged 76. He was born in Onitsha, in present-day Anambra State. Described as “arguably the most influential African artist of the 20th century,” he was “one of the first African artists to win critical acclaim.” He exhibited in Europe and the United States and was listed in international directories of contemporary art.
A beneficiary of a joint Shell Petroleum Company and British Council scholarship, in the 1940s he studied at the prestigious Slade School of Fine Art, University College, London, and the Ruskin School, Ashmolean, Oxford University. He received an honorary doctorate degree from Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, Kaduna State, in 1969.
He was appointed the first professor of Fine Arts at the University of Ife, Ile-Ife, from 1971 to 1975; and also, art consultant to the International Secretariat, Second World Black and African Festival of Arts and Culture (FESTAC) in Lagos, 1977.
His public sculptures include “Anyanwu” (1954–55), commissioned for the Nigerian National Museum in Lagos; and “Sango” (1964), a 14-foot representation of the Yoruba god of thunder and lightning, holding his double-axe staff, symbolising power and energy, displayed in front of the Eko Electric Distribution Company (EKEDC) (formerly NEPA) on Marina, Lagos.
In two striking cases, the sale of Enwonwu’s art after his death highlighted the growing global recognition and value of African art. His portrait, “Christine” (1971), was in October 2019 sold at Sotheby’s in London for £1.1 million (around $1.4 million USD). Another portrait, “Tutu” (1973), was in 2018 sold at auction for £1,205,000 by Bonhams.
Read Also: Osun ex-lawmaker tasks NOA to increase sensitisation for Nigerians about the new tax law
It is thought-provoking that while Enwonwu’s private paintings are being rediscovered overseas and sold for millions, his public bronze monument, “The Drummer,” has disappeared from Lagos.
It is commendable that important advocacy groups are currently pushing the National Commission for Museums and Monuments (NCMM) to move beyond “general audits” and launch a specific task force to locate “The Drummer.” These groups include the Ben Enwonwu Foundation (BEF), the Bruce Onobrakpeya Foundation (BOF), and the Society of Nigerian Artists (SNA). The NCMM is targeted as the agency responsible for enforcing recovery.
Curiously, there has been no formal confirmation from the Nigerian government or the current owners of NECOM House regarding the whereabouts of the sculpture. The entities involved in the building’s privatisation and current upkeep have not responded to public inquiries about whether the piece was moved for “safekeeping,” sold as part of the real estate, or stolen.
The crux of the matter is that the sculpture was commissioned for a state-owned corporation (NITEL) that was later privatised, making it vulnerable to being treated as private furniture rather than a national treasure.
The Federal Ministry of Art, Culture, Tourism and the Creative Economy and the NCMM must demonstrate a sense of responsibility, and pursue this issue to a logical conclusion.
