By Hunvio Elizabeth According to BusinessDay investigation the death of a five-day-old baby during the recent demolition exercise in Lagos...
By Hunvio Elizabeth
According to BusinessDay investigation the death of a five-day-old baby during the recent demolition exercise in Lagos’ Makoko waterfront has thrown a harsh spotlight on the human toll of forced evictions in the state, raising fresh questions about planning, accountability, and the protection of vulnerable communities.
For Mansur Atiba, a 45-year-old fisherman, Makoko was more than a place to live. It was a heritage passed down through generations, a floating community built on wooden stilts above the lagoon, where fishing sustained families and neighbours functioned as extended kin. Atiba believed his home was safe. It stood nearly 200 metres away from the power lines authorities said marked the limit of the demolition. That distance, carefully measured in paddles and footsteps, gave him confidence.
Life had recently taken a hopeful turn. In December, Atiba and his wife welcomed their first child. For five days, the newborn lived, surrounded by quiet celebrations and dreams of a better future. Then the demolitions resumed.
According to Atiba, residents had been assured that only structures within a 100-metre setback from high-tension power lines would be affected. Acting on that belief, he left his wife and newborn at home on the morning demolition activities intensified, stepping out to help a neighbour salvage roofing materials.
What followed, residents say, was chaos.
Without warning, police reportedly fired tear gas into the tightly packed wooden settlement. The gas spread rapidly across narrow walkways and over the water. People fled in panic. By the time Atiba returned, his wife was coughing violently and the newborn was convulsing, struggling to breathe.
He rushed the baby by canoe and then by road, moving from one hospital to another in search of oxygen. None was immediately available. The child died before reaching Island Maternity Hospital.
Atiba’s loss is not an isolated case. Residents, civil society groups, and eyewitness accounts report that at least five people have died since demolitions in Makoko began in late December 2025. The victims reportedly include three infants and a 70-year-old woman, Albertine Ojadikluno, who died from shock, injuries, or distress linked to the operation.
Makoko, home to an estimated 80,000 to 100,000 people, is one of Lagos’ most iconic waterfront communities. Built entirely on water, it functions through fishing, canoe transport, and small-scale trade. For residents, the demolition has not only destroyed homes but dismantled livelihoods.
Displaced families now sleep in canoes or improvised boats tied together on the lagoon. With no shelter, they endure heavy rain and scorching sun. Many say they were unable to retrieve personal belongings, food supplies, or fishing equipment before their homes were pulled down.
“We have no clothes, no food, and they are still chasing us with tear gas,” said Funmi Alao, a displaced resident, speaking through tears. Another woman said she lost track of her four children in the confusion and has since struggled to reunite her family.
Community leaders accuse authorities of breaching earlier agreements. Israel Idowu, a community organiser, said residents cooperated with officials by marking the agreed 100-metre boundary using Nigerian flags bought with their own money. He alleged that demolition teams later admitted they were never instructed to stop at that distance.
“The 100 metres was a cover-up,” Idowu said, claiming the real directive was to clear the entire waterfront.
Fishermen like Rodrick Oluwatosin Iyinde say they complied with every new setback rule as it expanded from 30 metres to 50 and then 100 metres, even dismantling schools and community buildings in good faith. Yet demolitions continued, leaving churches, clinics, and homes destroyed.
Traditional leaders, including community Baales, have also condemned the exercise. Many say they negotiated peacefully with government officials, only to see the scope of the demolition widen without notice, compensation, or resettlement plans.
The Makoko demolition fits into a broader pattern of forced evictions across Lagos since 2020. From Monkey Village in Ikeja to Oworonshoki, Ilaje Otumara, and Baba Ijora, thousands of residents of informal settlements have been displaced in operations often marked by short notice, heavy security presence, and, in some cases, fatalities.
Rights groups warn that the continued use of force without adequate safeguards risks deepening a humanitarian crisis in the city, particularly for children, the elderly, and low-income families.
For Atiba, the debate over policy and urban planning is painfully personal. His home is gone. His livelihood is uncertain. His child is dead.
“This is not just about demolition,” he said quietly. “This is about lives.”
As Lagos pursues urban renewal and infrastructure protection, the death of a newborn in Makoko stands as a stark reminder that development, when stripped of compassion and planning, can come at an unbearable human cost.
Photo Credit: Businessday
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