In the quiet woodlands near Jedburgh, a small Scottish town draped in centuries of history, a modern-day standoff has been unfolding—one that has gripped social media and stirred heated debate both locally and far beyond the Borders. At the heart of the story is the self-proclaimed "Kingdom of Kubala," a group led by Ghanaian national Kofi Offeh, who calls himself King Atehene, his Zimbabwean partner Jean Gasho, known as Queen Nandi, and their Texan companion Kaura Taylor, who goes by Asnat. They have refused to leave a private patch of forest despite a sheriff’s court ordering their eviction, claiming a right to the land based on ancestral ties reaching back some 400 years.
The drama reached a legal crescendo on September 12, 2025, when Sheriff Peter Paterson at Jedburgh Sheriff Court issued an immediate warrant for the group’s removal. The civil action was brought by landowners Mary and David Palmer, who had sought not only the eviction of the trio but also an interdiction preventing them from occupying the land in the future. The sheriff’s order followed an earlier instruction to vacate by 5pm on Monday, September 8—a deadline the group simply ignored. None of the Kubala members were present in court, nor did they have legal representation, a detail that only heightened the sense of defiance surrounding their cause, according to reports from Express and MyNewsGH.
But who are the Kingdom of Kubala, and why have they chosen this remote Scottish woodland as the stage for their protest? Offeh, Gasho, and Taylor have styled themselves as royalty and handmaiden, donning traditional attire and performing rituals that they broadcast to a large online following. Their TikTok and Facebook accounts have amassed more than 100,000 followers, many of whom watch as the trio sing, chant, and share their story of "reclaiming land taken from their ancestors about 400 years ago." Their videos, often filled with vibrant dancing and impassioned speeches, have turned the encampment into something of a spectacle—one that is as much about digital influence as it is about physical territory.
On the day the eviction order was handed down, the group was seen at their woodland campsite, undeterred by the legal proceedings. Mr. Offeh, standing before reporters, declared, "The creator of the heavens and the Earth is the one with us. We are not afraid of whatever the court—the so-called court—has granted." His wife, Jean Gasho, echoed his sentiment, telling journalists, "We've already been to jail for loving our children, do you think chains frighten us?" The couple’s refusal to comply with the court’s directive was underscored by their continued singing and chanting, even as an official served them with the eviction papers—a moment captured and shared widely on their social channels.
Asked if they might consider relocating, Offeh was resolute. "If the creator of the heavens and the Earth wants us to move from this land, he shall find us a place to go," he said, according to MyNewsGH. For the Kubala trio, the matter is not only legal but spiritual, and they appear determined to remain until a higher power intervenes.
The landowners, Mary and David Palmer, have found themselves in a difficult position. Their lawyer, Conner McConnell, told the court that his clients were seeking "removal of occupiers on the basis of no right to title" and requested an order to remove not only the group but also any subtenants, dependents, goods, and possessions. Sheriff Paterson, for his part, was unequivocal, stating, "I am happy to grant a notice of eviction" with immediate effect.
Local officials have been vocal about the challenges posed by the encampment. Jedburgh councillor Scott Hamilton remarked, "The group of campers have clearly ignored the ultimatum given by the sheriff officers on Friday September 5. This is disappointing but I can't say it isn't surprising given the group's previous behaviour." Hamilton added that the council would continue to support the landowners and that additional safety measures would remain in place until the matter was resolved. He also urged residents to avoid engaging with the group, a plea reflecting the tension that has simmered in the community as the saga has dragged on.
The story of the Kubala group did not begin with this woodland standoff. Earlier in the summer, they had occupied another hillside site near Jedburgh, only to be evicted by the Scottish Borders Council in July 2025. Their return to the area, and subsequent refusal to leave, prompted the Palmers to seek legal recourse once more. Council deputy leader Scott Hamilton described the encampment as "unlawful" and lamented the group’s refusal to engage with local authorities. "They have rebuffed every opportunity to engage with us. We can help them, but we won’t sit back and let them break the law," he stated, as reported by MyNewsGH.
While the Kubala group’s claims of ancestral land rights have drawn sympathy from some corners, they have also ignited controversy among locals. Many residents have expressed frustration over the encampment’s persistence and the group’s allegations of prejudice against the community. The situation has become a lightning rod for debates about land ownership, historical injustice, and the limits of protest in modern Britain. The group’s large online following has only added fuel to the fire, with some supporters hailing them as brave activists and others dismissing their claims as unfounded or disruptive.
The case has also raised questions about the intersection of digital activism and real-world legal processes. The Kubala trio’s use of social media to broadcast their defiance has not only amplified their message but also complicated efforts to resolve the dispute quietly. Their videos, often featuring scenes of singing and dancing even as officials serve eviction notices, have turned a local property dispute into an international talking point.
For now, the future of the Kingdom of Kubala remains uncertain. The sheriff’s eviction order is clear, and the landowners have the backing of both the courts and the local council. Yet Offeh, Gasho, and Taylor show no signs of backing down, insisting that their cause is divinely sanctioned and that they will not move unless the creator wills it. Whether the standoff will end with a peaceful resolution or further confrontation is anyone’s guess.
As Jedburgh’s woodlands return to the headlines, the story of the Kingdom of Kubala serves as a reminder that even in a world governed by legal titles and property rights, questions of history, identity, and belief can still spark passionate—and sometimes bewildering—battles over land and belonging.
