The Human Cost of Lagos Demolitions

When the government demolishes the building you live in, your property is not the only thing you lose. You also lose your self.

On what was supposed to be a normal workday in March 2024 for Martina as a schoolteacher at Lekki, everything changed very quickly after her neighbour called at 12:30 pm to inform her of the bulldozer that was getting closer to their houses. She was very confused, given that there was no announcement of a demolition earlier. She explained the situation to her boss and hurriedly took a bus home. When she got there, Martina didn’t even know where her house was, as it had already been brought down to rubble, but she recognized the broken image of the Holy Family, which she used to locate the original space. That is how she was rendered homeless.

Martina’s narration and the images she shared enabled me to clearly visualize her experience of the brutal incident, holding on to the fear that she could burst into tears at any minute. She was one of the many victims of the Lekki Jakande Estate building demolitions in March 2024. The demolitions were targeted at illegal or informal structures popularly known as ‘attachments’ to recover land for the Lagos–Calabar coastal highway project.

According to the victims, the initial plan was to demolish the attachments closest to the Lekki beach, obstructing the construction of the highway. However, resistance from some young boys triggered a violent response from the police with tear gas and shooting. The victims believe that the resistance led to the expansion of the demolition to their houses, schools and markets, which were away from the Lekki beach. There was no eviction notice from the government for the victims.

THE JAKANDE ESTATE

The Jakande estate, located in Lekki (Ilasan), Lagos State, was built in 1983 through the Jakande Housing Estate Scheme by former Lagos State Governor Alhaji Lateef Jakande, to provide residents with a low-cost settlement. Many of the evicted inhabitants in Jakande were resettled by Governor Jakande from the July 1990 Maroko evictions, motivated by claims of illegal occupation (despite the residents possessing indigenous occupation of the land), public health and flooding concerns. The relocation process that followed was very problematic, considering only a handful of inhabitants.

Comfort, a widow with three children, was one of these inhabitants. ‘By the time they demolished Maroko, nobody lived in this Jakande land. So, Governor Jakande said that the people who have their papers should stay in Jakande,’ said Comfort. She added that not everyone got a house at Jakande. Perhaps this motivated the creation of the now-demolished attachment houses. Oladipupo, another victim, mentioned that: ‘Since Lateef Jakande’s death in 2021, there were rumours that Jakande would be demolished. Many administrations tried to pursue us, but Jakande, while he was alive, prevented any eviction.’

According to a Lagos State government official (who has requested to remain anonymous), the buildings were distressed, with foundations below ground level because of flooding, and some were already sinking. Sand filling was not going to do much, and domestic waste could not be managed effectively. The government was left with no choice but to demolish the buildings.

CHASING THE LAGOS DREAM

In 2021, Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu of Lagos articulated his vision for providing adequate housing, improving health and security, amongst other goals for Lagosians in a speech that media outlets headlined ‘The Lagos of my dream’. In many ways, Sanwo-Olu’s Lagos dream—shared by previous administrations—is a commendable vision, but the pursuit of this vision by these administrations has come at a cost for the urban poor. More than 2.3 million residents have been kicked from their homes, with the Lagos state government offering several reasons to back their actions, leaving them with problematic relocation processes and little to no compensation.

A popular government claim is the illegality of the land/houses. Under the Land Law Act 1978, the government owns all land, and any private land ownership must be obtained from the government. In the event of an absence of title certificates that reflect government authorization for land possession, the resident’s ownership is not recognized. Unfortunately, this discredits the Jakande victims who bought their land from an omonile (a Yoruba word used to describe landowners that sell land to residents without legal consent from the government) or were involved in any formal rent payment structure. The government official disclosed that while the system has not been punitive enough to address fraudulent land traders, its common knowledge that residents should take responsibility in confirming the legality of their purchased land. However, the official added that the government has been flexible in some cases by making concessions concerning land encroachment, even in the Jakande area.

Residents are also accused of erecting illegal structures when they interfere with pre-existing (drainages and canals) or future (transport systems) public infrastructure, which Dr Oluwole Ojewale, an urban and regional planning expert, affirmed is valid. ‘However, what needs to be done is to ensure that those affected are properly relocated,’ he said. The Jakande estate was demolished for public infrastructure reasons and the government official revealed that:

A Lagos coastal road was aligned since 2011, stretching from Lekki to even beyond the Dangote refinery, aimed at addressing the traffic situation in the area. It is this administration that decided to connect the existing alignment to Calabar for a coastal highway, so it has always existed. Land encroachment began to take place when construction was delayed.

Additionally, there is the claim that these shanties serve as enclaves for criminal activities and hideouts. Dr Ojewale confirmed this connection but added that: ‘What the government does not consider is how to prevent the displaced people from developing grievances that drive them into criminal recruitment. Homeless people can join street gangs and increase crime rate. And this is because of the absence of urban inclusion.’

While there may be some rationale behind these reasons, displacing the urban poor to repurpose the land for some elitist mega-project is deeply unjust. This was the case in Maroko, which has now been transformed into the modern residential areas of Lekki and Oniru in Victoria Island. Dr Ojewale stated that: ‘It’s not like the government use the land to rebuild apartments for the poor. It is just outright displacement and land repurposing for the occupation of the rich.’

LEGALITY AND BROKEN PROMISES

The legality of building demolitions cannot be contested, as Prof Akintunde Otubu, a professor of property law at the University of Lagos, explained that:

Building demolitions is part of the urban and regional planning laws, applied when a property is unsafe or has been acquired for public purposes. And if you do not have ownership/legal rights to a property, the due owner can take back their ownership. So, residents of informal settlements have no legal right and can be evicted by a superior title holder.

Other laws, such as the Land Use Act 1978, support this action. Nevertheless, Prof Otubu mentioned that informal settlers can wield the principle of adverse possession, where a settler can gain possession of an informal land after meeting some conditions. However, the principle is less likely to succeed when a government land is involved. While the settlers possess no ownership of the land, Prof Otubu stated that they rightfully own the belongings in those houses, including the building blocks, if a notice is given. This counters the government’s destruction of the Jakande victims’ properties without prior notice.

Regardless of these legal setbacks, the Jakande victims were determined to defend their ownership of the settlement, or at most negotiate for compensation or relocation. Comfort informed me that in their quest to seek compensation, they encountered several illegitimate ‘authorities’. Once, they were promised compensation of ₦11 million to those who submitted their original land ownership documents. She also added that they had already begun a negotiation process through the efforts of a lawyer:

There was a lawyer who was a victim as well, called Ariwayo, who was negotiating a compensation fee of ₦60 million, which was the worth of the lost properties. He used the Jakande map to prove that the area away from Lekki Beach should not have been demolished. Once, he took us to Chevron to document our names for possible compensation. But he passed away in August 2024, shortly after one of the negotiation meetings. So now we don’t get any information again, because he was the person who would warn us of those fraudulent ‘authorities’.

All the victims also confirmed that the government provided no information about compensation, nor was there a visit from the Lagos State governor or the Eti-Osa local government chairman to address the situation. However, they mentioned that they heard rumours of people who came around to request the victims to document their names for compensation, but there was no outcome.

The lawyer’s death, the absence of information from the government, and incomplete compensation processes forced many to solve their housing issues themselves. Comfort mentioned that ‘many of the residents have left the area to seek shelter far away, except a few who still sleep on the rubble in “nylon houses”. Nobody wants to fight anymore.’

SURVIVAL AND REBUILDING

The demolitions deeply impacted the lives of the victims, affecting their shelter, finances, schooling and livelihoods. For the first few months, many people were forced to sleep on mattresses placed on the rubble. This was the situation for Grace, a widow with six children, who used wrappers to shield herself and her children from the sun and at night to sleep. There are a few victims like Martina and her nephew and niece, who a yet to find an apartment. ‘We were forced to endure the rain and change to dry clothes when it stopped. We also could not escape the hot sun. It was this experience that made me really feel the brunt of the incident,’ she said. Other victims were lucky enough to stay, and are still staying with nearby relatives, friends or in churches for accommodation, and are saving up money for a new place.

The victims encountered dire experiences before seeking proper shelter. Many had their recovered items stolen. Martina was forced to sell her partially damaged fridge for ₦12,000 to avoid theft and loss from the recovery. Comfort recounted that ‘elderly women were forced to bathe in the open by sitting on a chair and tying a cloth around them. They also defecated and urinated openly.’ She and Oladipupo added that many lost their children, and people died unexpectedly in the slum.

Their jobs and livelihood were affected as well. Comfort’s rental chairs and tables were destroyed, and she lamented the huge gains she would miss out on during the festive season. She had to beg the driver of the bulldozer to spare her water tank. Martina was emotionally unstable at work and could not give her schoolchildren full attention, which affected her performance. She eventually lost the job and decided to take up another job as a nanny to temporarily resolve her housing needs. Grace mentioned that her son’s school was affected and was forced to change schools.

The victims’ survival journey was eased by communal support, particularly from church members. They provided financial aid, water, among others. Some others came with food. Grace was told that they were Labour Party representatives.

My visit to the demolished settlement confirmed the experiences recounted by the four victims I spoke to. The area’s population has reduced, but many still create makeshift structures to survive. From tiled grounds that were not destroyed, people created ‘nylon houses’ with wooden stilts as pillars and disposable nylon bags or tarpaulin as walls. Some others gave their walls some sturdiness by adding bits of broken wooden doors. These structures could only contain a room with a mattress and a mosquito net, and little storage for necessary items. Many traders combined their shop with their house, selling in the front and sleeping at the back. The broken walls of old house structures covered with wrappers were just enough to create makeshift bathrooms and toilets. Schooling was not disrupted as teachers created makeshift classrooms like those of the houses, which contained little desks for the children, a side bar to hang their school bags, and a chalkboard at the front of the class. Another makeshift classroom had academic charts to give it that classroom feel. There was also a large, unbroken tiled floor that served as a church. These victims were forced to create these structures since they had nowhere to go.

AN INCLUSIVE MEGACITY?

The problems with Lagos State’s urban landscape and architectural outlook have been heavily recorded. While these records continue to hold the government responsible, the government official was quick to argue that:

It always looks as if Lagos is unplanned. There are plans, and most times residents do not build according to those plans. Although infrastructure delivery can be delayed due to limited resources, and Lagos’ development pace outruns its urban planning, when the infrastructure comes, it complements the already existing disorderliness.

Being a megacity that experiences an annual population growth rate of at least three per cent, akin to the increasing economic migrants, the Lagos State government has put in place efforts to address its housing dilemma. According to the government official, the government has been forced to change land allocated for commercial purposes to accommodate residential areas, due to the rapid conversion rate of residents. Awolowo Road and Bourdillon in Ikoyi are good examples of a commercial-turned-mixed-use corridor. However, there is a limit to what can be accommodated.

Moreover, Dr Adewumi Badiora, a senior lecturer in urban and regional planning at Olabisi Onabanjo University, added that ‘previous affordable housing schemes for the urban poor, like the Shagari Housing Scheme, have been developed. But they end up becoming expensive for them and are abandoned or hijacked by urban elites.’ The Jakande Housing Scheme was relatively successful but poorly maintained, hence the demolition of the Lekki scheme in April 2025. To Dr Badiora, the issues with the Shagari estate occurred because of a lack of engagement with the informal community on urban planning processes and a lack of research-driven urban policies. Establishing an inclusive mega-city that considers affordable housing is highly possible, as reflected in countries like Singapore. Dr Ojewale believes that Lagos can achieve a similar feat:

There is a need for mass investment in low-income housing that allows informal settlers to subscribe to some form of mortgage plan, encouraging incremental payment. This should also include building a multifaceted facility with markets, schools, dispensaries, maternity homes and sports infrastructure to care for the people and reflect their local economy.

However, the government official discouraged the feasibility of a public or private orchestrated housing scheme in the current economic climate. He attributes this to the high production cost, which creates a price disparity between housing costs and earnings, still making housing unaffordable.

Additionally, Dr Badiora believes that demolitions can be replaced with other popular alternatives that have been explored by other countries, such as formalizing and regularizing informal settlements, as seen in Brazil’s Villa Autódromo and slum upgrading, as seen in the Philippines’ Tondo settlement. Land formalization grants informal settlers legal recognition as landowners. In Villa Autódromo, approximately 90 per cent of the residents were granted legal titles over their lands in 1994, reflecting its huge success. However, this titling did not grant the residents their tenure security as they faced further eviction attempts by the authorities. While the Lagos State government’s sensitization efforts are a good start, issues associated with the land formalization process discourage informal settlers from embarking on this process. Likewise, considering that land regularization has a low security assurance, informal settlers in Lagos risk facing further evictions despite owning title certificates, as reflected in the case of Vila Autódromo.

The inability of land regularization to provide full tenure security and eliminate the ‘slum’ nature of informal settlements has led urban experts to incorporate slum upgrading as its final stage. However, slum upgrading is also treated as a separate alternative to forced evictions. Through slum upgrading, informal settlements are transformed into habitable neighbourhoods that possess basic infrastructures, allowing them to be integrated into the urban landscape. This was the case in Manila’s Tondo settlement after failed attempts at relocating informal settlers. Its slum upgrading project was facilitated by the reblocking approach that was adopted, which involves reorganizing the spatial layout of a settlement to accommodate basic infrastructures.

However, according to the government official, ‘there are limited resources in adopting this alternative in Lagos, and it will require a public-private partnership or a joint venture that will contain trade-offs. We also must consider the cost of infrastructure delivery and the exchange rate, given that Nigeria imports many of these resources.’ Yet, he was quick to add that: ‘There should be research into low-cost housing materials to make construction costs affordable. The government’s ability to sell affordable houses relies heavily on the cost of resources, and currently, the building material importation market is not regulated in terms of quality and price.’

Against the backdrop of government claims of limited resources and non-compliance with land laws, an alternative revealed by Dr Badiora will be rerouting land originally earmarked for future public infrastructure, as urban planning practices usually provide alternatives. The government has proved this possibility in the Lagos–Calabar coastal highway.

Overall, transforming Lagos into an inclusive megacity will take a huge commitment from the government and informal settlers. The success of many demolition alternatives is hinged on an effective multiscale strategy where informal settlers engage in effective planning with the government and other relevant stakeholders. The Lagos State government simply need to commit to actualizing this change, and residents should actively insist on their inclusion in these processes and hold the government accountable⎈