It had taken me a short time to decide to visit Otodo Gbame community in Nigeria's Lagos. The community exists side by side with a luxury estate in Lekki. The first time I heard of the community, I was at work. My bureau chief sauntered towards me. 'Demolitions were ongoing somewhere in Lekki'. He showed me video clips that had been posted online. I quickly dismissed it. We had filmed a lot of of ongoing demolitions in Lagos. We waited for weeks to interview the commissioner of information but that didn't happen, making the story not to see the light of day. As the day progressed, Text was keen to get some colour so I decided to stop by on my way home. Worst case scenario, it would be a personal adventure if they chose not to use it.
As I approached the community, we realised the car could not go further. I alighted and asked some questions. There was water two streets down and the car could not get past that point as the roads were in a terrible state. I could see the residents from afar carrying their belongings on their heads. As they got close, a sullen look was on their faces. So much despair. Dissatisfied with the answers I got, I made a quick decision. I needed to see for myself. I quickly calculated. I had no rain boots and taking a motorcycle in there was a risk. From experience, I could end up been thrown into the muddy water. I returned to the car. I was grateful the windows were tinted. I changed from my office looking clothes to a top and jeggings. I needed to have the girl next door look cos I had been told to expect some hostility. That done, I got out, took off my shoes and got a local resident who lived close-by to accompany me. I needed someone who could easily persuade them to talk and I also needed a back-up for when things got heated.
As I approached the community, we realised the car could not go further. I alighted and asked some questions. There was water two streets down and the car could not get past that point as the roads were in a terrible state. I could see the residents from afar carrying their belongings on their heads. As they got close, a sullen look was on their faces. So much despair. Dissatisfied with the answers I got, I made a quick decision. I needed to see for myself. I quickly calculated. I had no rain boots and taking a motorcycle in there was a risk. From experience, I could end up been thrown into the muddy water. I returned to the car. I was grateful the windows were tinted. I changed from my office looking clothes to a top and jeggings. I needed to have the girl next door look cos I had been told to expect some hostility. That done, I got out, took off my shoes and got a local resident who lived close-by to accompany me. I needed someone who could easily persuade them to talk and I also needed a back-up for when things got heated.
As we walked the 10 minutes distance into the community, my escort threw more light on what had happened. A Yoruba resident and Egun resident had fought over a girl. The two groups, Yoruba and Egun people from Benin Republic ended up fighting and two days after, bulldozers were sent in to raze down the slum. Thousands had been displaced as a result.
Spokeswoman for Lagos police denied the claims saying they had arrested several people for setting fire to the shanties.
Spokeswoman for Lagos police denied the claims saying they had arrested several people for setting fire to the shanties.
As we got close, I could see some makeshift houses still burning. Some were still standing in the distance towards the water. People were scampering through the wreckage to salvage what was left of their property. I tried to take some pictures but was warned not to. I quickly put my phone away after I took a few.
Looking at what was left of the thriving community, so many questions raced through my mind. What would happen to the residents now? Where do they go from here. They had become victims. The only home they had or knew had been demolished. I braced up to interview some of them. They told me point blank they had nowhere to go. This was their home. It had been for decades. As they struggled to grapple with their new reality, I struggled to contain my emotions. Bulldozers escorted by police arrived to raze the traditional housing residents said. Many residents who were at work at the time the demolitions started were unable to gather their properties from the scene. About 5 people died when their boat capsized while in a hurry to escape the trigger happy policemen.
The following week, we went back to film. This time, we had someone from a rights group escort us in. The residents were more receptive. Families hung around in makeshift sheds. They had nowhere to go, they said repeatedly. The case was ongoing in court and all they had was hope.
This was not the only community to experience demolitions in Lagos. Few months ago, shops and shanties in Jakande experienced same fate. I and my colleagues had visited the scene while demolitions were ongoing. As we set our camera to film, a convoy of security vehicles drove in. More than a dozen policemen jumped down and some walked towards us. I held my breathe and prayed silently. A few started shouting at us but one of them calmed them down and told us to go on filming. I sighed in relief. All the shops along the street leading to Lekki beach were razed down. A colleague mentioned last week that all the girls who used to live there had relocated to Ajah.
London-based Amnesty International recently called on Nigeria to shelve plans to demolish more illegal settlements in the megacity of 23 million, and said officials needed to provide alternative accommodation for residents. A U.N. expert has also asked Nigeria for urgent information about a forced eviction of thousands of people from makeshift homes in Lagos.
Slums of makeshift housing are common in the poorest parts of Lagos, a city of 23 million people, which attracts thousands of people each day in search of work from across Africa's most populous nation and neighbouring countries.
Weeks after we had filmed, I got a call from a co-director of one of the rights groups. The police are back in Otodo Gbame she said. My heart sank. Can you send a crew? I had to turn her down. We were done with the story but my heart went out to them.
Looking at what was left of the thriving community, so many questions raced through my mind. What would happen to the residents now? Where do they go from here. They had become victims. The only home they had or knew had been demolished. I braced up to interview some of them. They told me point blank they had nowhere to go. This was their home. It had been for decades. As they struggled to grapple with their new reality, I struggled to contain my emotions. Bulldozers escorted by police arrived to raze the traditional housing residents said. Many residents who were at work at the time the demolitions started were unable to gather their properties from the scene. About 5 people died when their boat capsized while in a hurry to escape the trigger happy policemen.
The following week, we went back to film. This time, we had someone from a rights group escort us in. The residents were more receptive. Families hung around in makeshift sheds. They had nowhere to go, they said repeatedly. The case was ongoing in court and all they had was hope.
This was not the only community to experience demolitions in Lagos. Few months ago, shops and shanties in Jakande experienced same fate. I and my colleagues had visited the scene while demolitions were ongoing. As we set our camera to film, a convoy of security vehicles drove in. More than a dozen policemen jumped down and some walked towards us. I held my breathe and prayed silently. A few started shouting at us but one of them calmed them down and told us to go on filming. I sighed in relief. All the shops along the street leading to Lekki beach were razed down. A colleague mentioned last week that all the girls who used to live there had relocated to Ajah.
London-based Amnesty International recently called on Nigeria to shelve plans to demolish more illegal settlements in the megacity of 23 million, and said officials needed to provide alternative accommodation for residents. A U.N. expert has also asked Nigeria for urgent information about a forced eviction of thousands of people from makeshift homes in Lagos.
Slums of makeshift housing are common in the poorest parts of Lagos, a city of 23 million people, which attracts thousands of people each day in search of work from across Africa's most populous nation and neighbouring countries.
Weeks after we had filmed, I got a call from a co-director of one of the rights groups. The police are back in Otodo Gbame she said. My heart sank. Can you send a crew? I had to turn her down. We were done with the story but my heart went out to them.
The demolitions have become a nightmare for many and all they can do is cling to hope. One of the victims said: ''this is not the change we voted for''.
Video links: Lagos waterfront communities protest demolitions (Watch from 4:15)
Lagos communities protest mass eviction order by state officials
Video links: Lagos waterfront communities protest demolitions (Watch from 4:15)
Lagos communities protest mass eviction order by state officials
