Who Really Belongs in Lagos?

Who Really Belongs in Lagos?

Who Really Belongs in Lagos?Lagos year was 1990, and turmoil filled the roads of Lagos. The Nigerian military government had effectively ousted three
hundred thousand occupants from their homes in the Maroko people group, offering no elective lodging game plans.
Left with no decision, many looked for asylum with family members while others wound up looking for cover underneath the city’s.

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bridges, becoming one with Lagos’s nocturnal landscape. Mrs. Mesa had always assured her children that Lagos, their
birthplace, was as much their home as their ancestral Badagry. However, as she witnessed bulldozers reducing their
dwelling to debris, she questioned her faith in claiming Lagos as her own. This would not be the final instance of Lagos turning against its inhabitants.

Since the late 1960s, during the Nigerian Civil War, Lagos’s socio-political fabric has
been marked by tensions surrounding ownership, with various ethnic groups asserting their rights to exist and thrive in the city.

An examination of several devastating real-world incidents, particularly the forced evictions in Maroko and
Otodo Gbame, in conjunction with the various actions, inactions, and responses of successive Lagos state
administrations, leads one to conclude that Lagos maintains an inherent antipathy towards its own citizens.

Britain’s colonization of Lagos

Who Really Belongs in Lagos?

Britain’s colonization of Lagos in 1861 marked the beginning of the city’s transformation into a vital coastal trading
hub. As the colonial capital, Lagos experienced remarkable growth, and its significance further intensified in 1914 when it became the capital of the newly amalgamated colony and protectorate of Nigeria.

This prestigious position as the capital city enhanced Lagos’s political and economic prominence, a status it maintained through Nigeria’s
independence in 1960 until the federal capital’s relocation to Abuja in 1991.

capital city enhanced Lagos’s political and economic prominence, a status it maintained through Nigeria’s
population surge, rising from approximately 325,000 residents in the 1950s to 762,000 in the 60s, expanding to 1.4
million in the 70s, and reaching 2.5 million in the 80s.

As of 2024, the metropolitan area of Lagos houses an estimated
16,536,000 inhabitants. Several factors contributed to this remarkable growth, including the prosperous oil boom of the
1970s and media portrayals of Lagos as a land of opportunities, attracting migrants from various Nigerian regions and
West African territories.

Initially concentrated on Lagos Island, the city’s physical development gradually extended to mainland regions such as
Yaba and Surulere. The 1970s saw the emergence of satellite towns like Festac Town, designed to accommodate the
burgeoning population. While areas like Lekki, Ajah, and Ikoyi successfully transformed into urban districts, the
pressing housing demands led to the proliferation of informal settlements, often at considerable human cost.

The chronicle of Lagos’s urban development

Who Really Belongs in Lagos?

The chronicle of Lagos’s urban development is scarred by controversial displacement events, notably the 1990 Maroko
demolition and the 2016-2017 Otodo Gbame evictions, illustrating the devastating impact of inadequate urban planning.
On July 14, 1990, under the leadership of Raji Rasaki, the Lagos state military government initiated one of Nigeria’s
largest forced evictions. With merely a week’s notice, over 300,000 residents were displaced, and 10,000 properties
were demolished. The Maroko case gained particular attention as it affected the Ijaw and Ilaje community, a minority
group in Lagos. Many residents, who had inhabited the area since the 1940s, possessed valid land titles and building
permits issued by the same government.

The community, primarily comprising low-income workers employed in Victoria Island and Ikoyi, was situated adjacent
to highly valuable properties. Today, the former Maroko territory hosts luxurious residential developments, including
sections of Lekki Phase 1 and Victoria Island Extension.

devastating humanitarian impact of the Maroko eviction

Who Really Belongs in Lagos?

Given the devastating humanitarian impact of the Maroko eviction, one might have expected the Lagos state
government to adopt a more compassionate approach toward displacement. However, approximately twenty-six years
later, between 2016 and 2017, a similar tragedy unfolded in Otodo Gbame. The situation proved even more severe, as
unlike the Maroko residents who received a 7-day eviction notice, the Otodo Gbame community faced sudden,
unannounced displacement. Otodo Gbame, a modest fishing settlement situated along the Lekki waterfronts, bore
similarities to Maroko in its demographic composition, being home to the minority Egun people from Badagry.

The initial phase of evictions occurred in November 2016, resulting in the forced displacement of approximately 30,000
residents. Despite securing a court order for community protection, subsequent evictions took place in March 2017,
culminating in the complete removal of all remaining inhabitants by April of the same year. The displacement left
numerous residents, who relied on fishing and local trade, without their primary means of sustenance. The resistance to
these evictions resulted in multiple injuries and fatalities among community members.

Nigerian Ministry of Economic Planning and Budget

Who Really Belongs in Lagos?

According to a recent report by the Nigerian Ministry of Economic Planning and Budget, Lagos officially attained
megacity status in 1995. Over the past three decades, the state government has implemented various urban
development initiatives aimed at transforming the city.

However, the consistent prioritization of aesthetic urban
renewal over humanitarian considerations has raised significant concerns. The last decade witnessed the introduction
of Operation Clean Up Lagos, marking an intensification of aggressive policies. These measures sanctioned widespread
arrests and harassment of homeless individuals, demolished informal settlements under the pretext of preventing slum
formation, and attempted to “deport” homeless people to their states of origin, raising serious questions about citizen
rights and human dignity.

While global megacities like Tokyo, New York, and Singapore have successfully implemented
strategic approaches including shelter provisions with vocational training, mental health support, rental assistance
programs, and community-based support systems, Lagos has predominantly focused on forceful removal rather than
rehabilitation.

Amidst these developments, the situation of non-Yoruba residents in Lagos grew increasingly challenging following the
2023 general elections, which heightened existing tribal tensions. Historical research by Araloyin and Fateye,
examining discriminatory practices in Lagos’ rental housing market, revealed that landlords often based their tenant
selection primarily on ethnic identity, typically disadvantaging minority tribes. A comprehensive study of Oke Arin
market by Nwankwo, focusing on women traders and institutional frameworks, highlighted the persistent
discrimination faced by male Igbo traders in major Lagos markets. Her research documented that despite Igbo men
being among the earliest traders in Lagos, ethnic discrimination remained deeply embedded in the market’s
organizational structure, with Yorubas maintaining symbolic dominance due to their perceived status as indigenous
landowners.

While Sections 41, 42, and 43 of Nigeria’s 1999 Constitution guarantee citizens’ rights to reside anywhere

within the country without discrimination and own properties freely, the debate over Lagos’ cosmopolitan versus tribal
identity persisted, despite various ethnic groups’ historical contributions to the city’s development.

Who Really Belongs in City?

Who Really Belongs in City?

In her compelling TEDx presentation titled “Who Belongs in a City?” Olutimehin Adegbeye offered a critical analysis of
Lagos’ urban development trajectory. She emphasized that urban belonging should be recognized as a fundamental
human right rather than a privilege reserved for the wealthy. Adegbeye’s observations about development-induced
displacement resonated beyond Lagos, reflecting similar patterns worldwide. Notable examples included the systematic
removal of favela residents in Rio de Janeiro and the displacement of Kurdish communities through Istanbul’s urban
transformation initiatives.

Henri Lefebvre’s theoretical framework of the right to the city provided valuable insights into
understanding urban belonging. This concept encompassed more than mere residence rights, extending to access to
urban resources, participation in city planning, economic opportunities, mobility, and cultural and social rights within
urban spaces.

The fundamental question of belonging in Lagos transcended simple matters of residency and citizenship, touching
upon deeper issues of urban identity, rights, and social justice. The city’s treatment of its ethnic minorities and
homeless populations revealed a concerning pattern where urban development frequently compromised human dignity,
highlighting the complex interplay between modernization efforts and social equity.