In the quiet woodland near Jedburgh in the Scottish Borders, a small encampment became the focus of worldwide headlines. A group calling itself the Kingdom of Kubala has declared sovereignty on Scottish soil, proclaiming they are the “lost tribe of Africa.”
The camp, led by a Ghanaian former opera singer styling himself as King Atehene, his Zimbabwean wife Queen Nandi, and joined by a 21-year-old American woman known as Asnat, has sparked intense debate about African history in Scotland, land rights, and the rise of micronations in the United Kingdom.
The Kingdom of Kubala claim they are direct descendants of a lost African Hebrew tribe, linking themselves to so-called black Jacobites and Highlanders allegedly expelled under Queen Elizabeth I more than 400 years ago. They describe their camp as both a spiritual homecoming and the revival of an African kingdom in Europe. Their declarations, amplified on social media, have stirred fascination but also alarm among locals, leading to police visits, heated exchanges in the woodland, and, most significantly, formal eviction notices from the Scottish Borders Council.
Historians, however, say the story does not stand up to evidence. Scotland does have a Black presence dating back centuries: Africans were recorded in the court of King James IV in the early 1500s, and individuals of African descent lived in Scottish ports and towns. But there is no historical record of a mass expulsion of Africans from Scotland. The deportation orders Elizabeth I issued in England in 1596 and 1601 were limited in scope, poorly enforced, and applied south of the border. Scholars note that Kubala’s sweeping narrative blurs folklore with pseudo-history.
While the group’s royal titles and bold proclamations sound theatrical, the legal and social consequences are very real. Under Scotland’s right-to-roam laws, wild camping is permitted but only if it is temporary, small in scale, and responsible. Long-term settlements like the Kubala encampment, particularly on private land, are unlawful and can be removed by court order. The eviction notices already served by the council make it clear that authorities are preparing to enforce those rights if the group refuses to leave voluntarily. Police Scotland has attended disturbances at the camp but reported no immediate criminal offences. Local councillors have urged residents not to confront the group, warning that any removal must happen “by lawful means.”
The Kingdom of Kubala is not unique in its declaration of sovereignty. The UK has seen numerous micronations, from the Principality of Sealand to Cornish independence campaigns, none of which have ever received recognition in law. Like these symbolic states, the Kingdom of Kubala exists more in rhetoric than in reality. Yet unlike most micronations, Kubala couches its claims in the language of African heritage, biblical prophecy, and the search for belonging. That is what sets it apart and makes it a global talking point.
For now, the encampment’s future rests with the courts. With eviction already in process, the Kingdom of Kubala’s bid for recognition as a sovereign African kingdom in Scotland will almost certainly fail in law. But the story of the Kubala will linger far beyond Jedburgh, forcing us to revisit questions of race, history, belonging, and the narratives communities tell to claim identity in a globalized world.