After nearly 130 years in foreign custody, the remains of King Toera, the once-powerful ruler of the Sakalava kingdom in western Madagascar, have finally returned home. On September 2, 2025, Madagascar received three skulls from France—one believed to be that of King Toera himself, the others belonging to his loyal warriors—marking a poignant chapter in the country’s long struggle to reclaim its history and dignity from the shadows of colonialism. The return, as reported by the Associated Press and Archaeology Magazine, is the first to occur under a new 2023 French law that streamlines the repatriation of human remains taken from former colonies.
King Toera’s story is one of tragedy and resistance. In August 1897, French colonial troops, intent on subduing the Menabé kingdom and consolidating control over Madagascar, killed and beheaded the king after a series of violent clashes. According to Archaeology Magazine, his head was then transported to Paris, where it remained—alongside thousands of other remains from colonized peoples—locked away in the collections of France’s Museum of Natural History. For generations, these bones served as grim trophies and objects of study, stark reminders of the violence and indignities inflicted during colonial conquest.
The recent repatriation was not just a bureaucratic event; it was a deeply symbolic and emotional homecoming. The skulls were flown to Antananarivo, Madagascar’s capital, and welcomed with solemn rituals at the Mausoleum of Avaratr’Ambohitsaina, where the nation’s most prominent figures are buried. President Andry Rajoelina, speaking before three coffins draped in the Malagasy flag, declared, “Today, in this historic place, we honor the martyrs of the nation who fought colonialism. The memory of their struggle must rekindle in us the flame of patriotism.” This sentiment was echoed by the presence of political and military authorities, members of royal families, and the Sakalava people themselves, who wore traditional robes and carried the remains through the capital before their final journey.
One of the most touching moments came as King Toera’s great-grandson and heir, the newly enthroned Sakalava King Harea Georges Kamamy, sprinkled water from the sacred Tsiribihina River onto his ancestor’s coffin—a gesture meant to “welcome him home.” The coffins are now destined for reburial in Menabe, some 800 kilometers from Antananarivo, returning the king and his warriors to their ancestral land after more than a century in exile.
The significance of this restitution cannot be overstated. As Madagascar’s Culture Minister Volamiranty Donna Mara put it during the Paris ceremony, the return is “a gesture of immense significance.” It is, she said, a profound act of recognition—one that allows the nation to begin healing wounds inflicted during the colonial era. French Culture Minister Rachida Dati, presiding over the Paris ceremony, acknowledged the painful legacy: “These skulls entered national collections in circumstances that obviously violated human dignity and occurred in an atmosphere of colonial violence.” While scientific committees could only “presume” that the skull was indeed King Toera’s, its Sakalava origin was confirmed, lending further weight to the symbolic power of the event.
The repatriation was made possible by a 2023 French law that, for the first time, allows authorities to return human remains to former colonies by simple decree, rather than requiring separate legislation for each case. According to the Associated Press, France is currently the only European country to have passed such a law specifically addressing the restitution of human remains. The National Museum of Natural History in Paris, where the Sakalava skulls were held, has reported that its collections include more than 1,000 skeletons and 18,000 skulls, many gathered under the guise of scientific research during the colonial era. Archaeology Magazine estimates that the total number of human remains in French museums exceeds 20,000.
The return of King Toera’s remains is not an isolated event. It is part of a broader reckoning with Europe’s colonial legacy, particularly the theft and display of cultural artifacts and human remains. According to the Associated Press, nearly 90% of sub-Saharan Africa’s cultural heritage is held outside the continent, largely in European museums. In recent years, several countries have begun to address these injustices, though progress has often been slow and fraught with controversy.
Namibia, for example, regained 27 sets of human remains from Germany in 2018 after more than a decade of negotiations—a process culminating in a moving repatriation ceremony in Berlin. Three years later, Germany officially recognized the colonial-era killings in Namibia as genocide and pledged financial support for affected communities. Zimbabwe, too, has pushed for the return of human remains from British institutions, with activists staging protests and launching the #BringBackOurBones campaign. As noted by the Associated Press, Zimbabwe’s former president Robert Mugabe once condemned the storage of skulls in European museums as “among the highest forms of racist moral decadence.”
Despite these efforts, the restitution of human remains remains a contentious and complex issue. While France has taken legislative steps, other European nations lag behind. Belgium, for instance, holds at least 500 human remains from the Democratic Republic of Congo, Rwanda, and Burundi, but its own restitution legislation has stalled. The United Kingdom’s Natural History Museum has confirmed it holds remains from Zimbabwe and has expressed willingness to return them, but only after further discussions. Earlier this year, a British parliamentary group called for the restitution of African human remains and a ban on their sale, emphasizing the “profound distress” their continued presence in European institutions causes to diaspora communities and countries of origin.
For Madagascar, the return of King Toera’s remains is both a victory and a reminder of the work still to be done. The ceremony was not just about honoring the dead but about reclaiming agency over the country’s own narrative. As the skulls made their final journey to Belo Tsiribihina, draped in the Malagasy flag and accompanied by the prayers and songs of the Sakalava people, they carried with them the weight of history—and the hope of renewal.
The return of these remains marks a new phase in addressing the atrocities of colonialism, not just for France and Madagascar, but for all nations grappling with the legacies of conquest and dispossession. It is a moment of reckoning, recognition, and, perhaps, the first step toward healing wounds that have lingered for generations.
