‘Colonial-era classism’: Residents decry demolitions in Nigeria’s Makoko

14 hours ago 10

Lagos, Nigeria – Tunde Agando was paddling his way back to Makoko floating settlement in his canoe on a January afternoon, after taking his mother to the market, when he saw an amphibious excavator tearing down his family’s home.

Before he could get close, the large home on stilts where he and 15 others lived in Lagos, Nigeria, had been brought down with all the possessions inside it – clothes, furniture, his brothers’ carpentry tools with which they built wooden canoes, and his plugged-in phone – lost to the water.

‘We are humans’

Makoko, popularly called the “Venice of Africa”, is a historic fishing village dating back to the 19th century, built on stilts along the coast of Lagos. It overlooks the Third Mainland Bridge, which connects the affluent Lagos Island with mainland Lagos, and its residents are predominantly fishermen who fish in the same water on which they have dwelled for decades. An economic hub, it serves markets around the city with fresh and dried seafood.

Although it is home to about 200,000 people, the combination of poverty and lack of government development and social infrastructure has made it a slum. Yet its scenic waterways plied by canoes hawking everyday necessities and food, and its distinct culture, make it a popular destination for visitors. Much of the community sits on water, but a part is situated on land.

On an average day, the sunset’s reflection on the water, coupled with rising smoke from the wooden houses and children swimming nearby, makes Makoko picturesque from a distance – its rugged imperfections that are a testament to resilience also giving it a unique beauty.

But recently, the landscape of the village has resembled the aftermath of a storm, with only the carcasses of wooden structures left in many places.

At one of Makoko’s numerous processing hubs for dried fish, women working are anxious about what the demolition means for their business and economic future.

“We hope they can see that we are humans and stop demolishing our homes,” one of the older women who did not want to give her name said in the local dialect, Egun.

This eviction will only increase hardship for people who are already disproportionately affected by Nigeria’s cost-of-living crisis, observers note.

‘History is going to be lost’

Phoebe Ekpoesi, a mother of three, has been staying at a relative’s house in Makoko after her home was demolished. She said everything she owns, including her business in the village, has been lost.

“This Makoko is everything we have, my family lives here, my children go to school here, and we do not have anywhere else to go,” she said with frustration.

Victoria Ibezim-Ohaeri, the executive director of Spaces for Change, a Lagos-based civil society organisation advocating for urban governance, gender rights, and environmental justice, said the demolition has had a devastating effect on people like Ekpoesi.

“There is disruption of their children’s education, people are becoming increasingly homeless, and there is heightened vulnerability, especially among women, people with disabilities, and aged persons within the community,” she said.

Not only will the demolitions affect victims and community structures, but people will be deprived of communal land ownership and a sense of belonging to a place, according to Deji Akinpelu, the cofounder of Rethinking Cities, an NGO advocating against the exclusion of the urban poor.

“Heritage is going to be lost, history is going to be lost,” he said.

And worse still, many say, is that there has been no resettlement plan for the victims, many of whom now stay with friends and relatives, or sleep in their canoes or what is left of their structures.

Although the state government promised on February 4 to provide money to victims, Lagos State commissioner of information, Gbenga Omotoso, told Al Jazeera that compensation will be determined only after victims have been counted and documented.

Akinpelu said authorities ought to have considered compensation and resettlement before starting demolitions, not as an afterthought.

According to advocates like Ibezim-Ohaeri, the government’s failure to provide these is “illegal”, as they are considerations clearly stipulated by Nigeria’s constitution, which forbids the government from demolishing structures without prior negotiation and prompt payment of compensation.

Lagos State Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu has, however, defended the state’s actions, saying, “What we are doing is not demolishing the whole of Makoko. We are clearing areas to ensure they do not encroach on the Third Mainland Bridge and to keep residents away from high-tension lines.”

An eviction ‘playbook’

Although the government has cited safety as its reason for demolishing the homes, activists say there are other motives at play. Last year, local Nigerian outlets reported that the government had entered an agreement with a private contractor to develop an estate in Makoko, and promptly began sand dredging and land reclamation opposite the area.

“The unofficial reason is that Makoko is sitting in a highly coveted area. Makoko sits on the waterfront overlooking the lagoon from the Third Mainland Bridge. So that intersection between urban poverty and highbrow property development is one of the biggest pressures,” Ibezim-Ohaeri said.

Forceful eviction and demolition are not new to Nigeria’s economic capital. They follow a historical trend that has seen informal settlements and waterfront communities pushed out to make way for luxury estate developments.

In 1990, 300,000 people were forcefully evicted from Maroko in Lagos to make way for what has now become parts of Victoria Island and Oniru Estate, both sought-after areas for wealthy Nigerians. Otodo-Gbame faced a similar fate in 2017 when its 30,000 residents were rendered homeless, and more recently, to make way for the luxurious Periwinkle estate.

Another waterfront community, Oworonshoki, is currently being demolished, and activists say a luxurious estate might spring up in the location soon.

Between 1973 and 2024, 91 eviction operations were carried out in parts of Lagos.

“There is an eviction playbook in Lagos State, and if you look at all the other evictions, it follows the same playbook,” Ibezim-Ohaeri said. “It will first of all be cited that there is something wrong in that area, and at the end of the day, new highbrow developments that are far beyond the reach of the former owner will spring up in that area.”

Ibezim-Ohaeri, who has been a counsel for Makoko since 2005, said the state has made more than 20 attempts to evict the residents of the village, but the community has resisted through court orders and pressures from civil society organisations.

The power line or the people?

Other waterfront communities and informal settlements are also at risk, Ibezim-Ohaeri said, as the Lagos government recently announced its plans to reclaim more informal lands.

“What this means for Lagos is that it has continued to follow a pattern of classism right from the colonial era,” said Akinpelu, who added that “it is very much time for the government to start to rethink its ways because providing housing for high-income earners creates an imbalance in the city.”

Experts said the city should be thinking of mixed-income housing patterns that allow everyone to get shelter, and not push more people into homelessness in the city of 22 million people, where a housing crisis is brewing.

“We have to consider what can give way to what. The power line or the people? The power line itself can be moved, but they found it right that the people are the ones who should move for the power line,” Akinpelu said.

On January 29, Makoko community members demonstrated at the government secretariat and demanded an audience with the city’s governor, but they were forcefully dispersed by the police who fired tear gas. A large banner read: “A megacity cannot be built on the bones and blood of the poor.”

This week, a compromise was reached by the Lagos State House of Assembly and the community that residents would not rebuild on the demolished structures, compensation would be determined by a committee, and a water-city regeneration project would be implemented in Makoko.

Meanwhile, for those evicted and displaced, the future looks bleak.

In Makoko, Agando is back to sleep under the mosquito-infested shed with his pregnant wife and relatives at his pastor’s house. His family is considering finding a place in Ikorodu, northeast of Lagos, as soon as they are able to get enough money.

“This is what we have for now,” he said.