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This is the real story of Kujo Lewis, one of the last survivors of the Clotilda. 

Not being convinced by all these intellectual manipulations that sometimes struck us as exaggerated, we continued our research. In 1860, the army of Dahomey struck and marched on Takon. The village was ravaged, put to fire and the sword; men, women and children were carried away. Among the survivors still living at that time was a young man named Kossoula Oloualé. Sixty-seven years later, in 1927, in Africatown, Alabama, this same man, now known as Cudjo Lewis, told his story to Zora Neale Hurston. His testimony was collected, transcribed, sometimes completed, sometimes distorted, then long forgotten before being published posthumously in 2018 under the title Barracoon. Some later accounts drew inspiration from others that already seemed to twist the reality.

Today, more than a century and a half after the attack, the memory has not been extinguished. Our announcements, investigations and publications on social media in search of the true version of the story bore fruit. Georgia, a member of the association Gbékouin Gbassa was contacted by a man who presents himself as a descendant of a survivor of that same raid. He lives in Benin, more precisely in Abomey. He decided to speak. Not by chance, nor out of opportunism, but because he felt the need to empty this heavy secret, and above all because he refuses that his history be erased ;  this Kassoudo(taboo). He wanted to transmit what, within his family, had continued to circulate after the fight of Kossoula and after the sometimes overly learned reconstructions.

July 26, 2026

Ago!

Ago!

Ago!

Who says Ago!

It is I!

My name is Crépin Boco Godjo.

I am a true son,

of the first rank in the lineage of Houégbadja.

“I am going to tell you how things happened, so that we find ourselves today in Abomey. King Glèlè had sent an emissary to the king of Takon. His name was Akiaoun. He was our ancestor. The discussions went badly, and King Glèlè became angry. He then decided to march on Takon. But he would never show that he was angry, or that he intended to take Takon by surprise. The strongest man hid his true face. He hid his true face and pretended to be a friend to Akiaoun, who remained inflexible. It was after the discussions that ended badly that the war began. In truth, this attack was extremely violent; it was pure betrayal.

One evening, King Akiaoun was eating with his eldest daughter, his favorite daughter. It was very late. A warrior of Glèlè arrived to speak with him. His name was Godjo Agnou Abètè Hohi awiyan guidi gbadja. At first they spoke like someone who was used to the village. Then the tones began to rise little by little. King Akiaoun refused to yield. I do not know exactly what stood between them, but I know that King Glèlè had sent an emissary to Takon several times, and Akiaoun would never grant him what he wanted. They began to argue. The discussion lasted a long time. Then, with one gesture, Godjo Agnou Abètè seized his sword and cut off his head. The headless body started to run. His daughter, alarmed, ran after her father, crying and begging them to kill her too. ‘Cut off my head as well!’ She was a young girl of marriageable age.

Agnou Abètè Hohi awignan aguidi gbadja mada kakara (anagoyitò is his common name). He began to touch her buttocks. Then he seized the girl’s hand and pronounced the words of war. He brought the girl before the king and asked for her in marriage. King Glèlè accepted and gave her to him. For him, she was his war booty. According to the rules of slavery of that time, all the captives had to take his name: Godjo. He then pronounced the words of war declaring that the village of Takon had been taken. They left immediately after that.”

I do not know why or how they called him Kodjo or Cudjo, but when one is in captivity, one carries the name of one’s master.

Otherwise a Yoruba can never be called Codjo.

You said his name was Godjo or Kodjo? Godjo, without a doubt, because Godjo was the warrior who attacked them.

They must have mispronounced it or written it wrongly. That is what these white people do.

A Yoruba can never be called Kodjo.

But the link with Godjo is the truth.

Godjo himself was the son of a slave. His mother had been captured in a raid against the Mahis.

Godjo had gone among the Ashanti, among the Bantè, and he attacked almost everywhere. Today the name Godjo is very widespread.

Today, all those who were slaves in the past were called Godjo.

Today some people are in the process of changing their family names because of this history.

My name is Boco Crépin.

I claim the name Godjo.

I am going to explain to you the link between Boco and Godjo.

When my father was born, the umbilical cord was around his neck.

According to Fon culture, his name from that moment was Boco.

Children who are born with the umbilical cord around the neck are called Boco among the Fon.

His first name was therefore Boco, but he belonged to the Godjo family.

When the colonizers arrived and were drawing up birth certificates, they asked him what his name was.

He answered “Boco,” and that is how the family name on his papers became Boco.

That was my grandfather.

His true family name is GODJO.

G-O-D-J-O.