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Makoko, the floating slum

Friday February 14 2014

After disembarking from the hired vans on a busy street, our guide warns us against using cameras in Makoko, a vast slum in central Lagos.

IN SUMMARY

  • Makoko, which some people call the “Venice of Africa,” is a busy place. Its economy is supported mainly by fishing, wood processing, boat building and trading in basic goods and staples.   
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After disembarking from the hired vans on a busy street, our guide warns us against using cameras in Makoko, a vast slum in central Lagos.

Residents are uncomfortable about being photographed because they are suspicious of anyone doing so, as the slum is up for demolition. This has put them on a warpath with the authorities.

As we walk towards the harbour, we see mounds of garbage on the narrow sidewalks.

Soon, we board canoes — the common form of transport in Makoko, which means “fishing village” in the local dialect. A repulsive smell fills the air, as the baking sun vents its anger on us.  

We sail through narrow channels in the Lagos Lagoon separated by wooden shacks with iron sheet roofing. The shacks rest on wooden stilts. All manner of trash, mostly plastic, drift past us.  

There are a few narrow wooden bridges that are connected to some floating platforms. You need to walk carefully to avoid tripping.

Typical of any journalist, we ignore our guide’s warning and pull out our cameras and smartphones, and begin clicking away.

Children standing on the verandas of their houses wave at us. Their wide smiles are infectious. We smile and wave back.

The murky waters also accommodate floating markets, canoe restaurants, schools, hair salons, video “halls,” photo studios and tailoring shops. Women who run the restaurants keep stoves in their boats to heat the food and beverages.

Makoko, which some people call the “Venice of Africa,” is a busy place. Its economy is supported mainly by fishing, wood processing, boat building and trading in basic goods and staples.   

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Each family owns a boat for ease of movement. We see small children, some as young as five or six, rowing boats through the canals to and from home.

There are a number of schools in the slum but the most interesting one is a three-storeyed establishment that caters to more than 100 pupils. The wooden structure is built on a foundation of more than 250 plastic drums, and has an open recreational space on the first floor. The classrooms are accommodated on the floors above.

It was designed by Nigerian architect Kunle Adeyemi, with support from the United Nations and the Heinrich Böll Foundation. 

Ironically, while the slum sits on water, residents lack safe drinking water and proper sanitation. Household waste and raw sewage flow directly into the water from homes, leaving behind a foul smell.

Vendors source water from nearby boreholes and sell it to residents in the slum.

“The government has certified that the water in the boreholes is safe for human use. A 25-litre can costs 10 Naira (0.05 US cents),” said Makoko’s community development chairman, David Shemede.

The rainy season comes with diseases such as typhoid, malaria, diarrhoea and cholera, which adds to the reasons the government wants the slum demolished.

Lagos state officials call it an illegal environmental nuisance. They say the illegal constructions pose a security risk, are an impediment to the gainful utilisation of the waterfront and undermine the “megacity status” of Lagos.

In July 2012, the government destroyed dozens of homes after Makoko residents failed to comply with an eviction notice. Officials, however, withdrew after one resident was killed in the process. Hundreds others were displaced.

On their part, the residents believe that corrupt state government officials only want to reclaim Makoko because it is a prime waterfront that the wealthy can exploit to enrich themselves.

When I asked why the residents were adamant about vacating the area, Shemede said: “It is safe for us to live here. Most of us are fishermen, and sometimes have to go out to sea late into the night to catch fish. So we cannot live on land. We love it here; all we want is for the government to build hospitals and schools for us.”

Shemede was, however, quick to add that: “If the government took us to dry land it has to be near the water.”

The co-ordinator of schools in the slum, Noah Shemede said: “Living on water is part of our culture. Moving us from here is like removing fish from water and putting it on dry land.”

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