Days after the Lagos State Government’s midnight demolition of the waterfront community along Tolu Alashe Street in Oworonshoki, the scene remains heartbreaking. The once-bustling settlement now lies in ruins — piles of broken blocks, twisted roofing sheets, and scattered belongings where families once lived and worked. Women and children now sleep in the open, uncertain of what tomorrow holds.
When repoters visited the area, the air was heavy with despair. Many women sat quietly beside what was left of their homes, sorting through debris and salvaging whatever they could sell for a few naira. Among them was Rebecca, a mother of one, who stared helplessly at a rusted pot and a broken fan beside her.
“I just came back from the hospital,” she said weakly. “I have a spinal problem. That night, I thought I could sell a few things to pay for treatment, but before I knew it, the bulldozers came. I had just paid N360,000 for rent. They destroyed everything in a single night. I wanted to end my life, but my sister stopped me.”
Rebecca, who used to sell cooked food, now trades away her personal belongings to survive. She said she sold a fan worth N35,000 for just N1,000 to a scrap buyer. “I don’t have a choice,” she whispered. “I need to eat and buy medicine. Everywhere I turn, there is no help.”
Across the rubble, reporters saw scrap buyers haggling with more women desperate to sell the remnants of their lives for a fraction of their worth.
Another victim, Jumai, recalled how she and her children narrowly escaped that night’s chaos. “They came around 11pm,” she said. “We were sleeping when we heard people shouting. I grabbed my children and ran. My house and my pepper soup shop were destroyed. Even their school is gone. I don’t know how to start again.”
For Grace Manu, a mother of two, the demolition has erased her means of livelihood and her children’s education. “I used to sell cucumber and garden egg,” she said, showing what was left of her spoiled goods. “Since then, I’ve sold nothing. I don’t even have where to sleep. I went to Magodo and Ogba to look for a house, but rent there is over a million. Where will I get that kind of money?”
Not far away, Filomena, who lived in the community for eight years, now sleeps with her three children under a makeshift tent covered with old nets. “They even demolished the school my children attended,” she said. “We have no home, no help, and no one from the government has come to see us.”
When reporters tried to speak with traditional leaders at the nearby palace, the guards at the gate refused access, insisting no journalist should be allowed in.
The Lagos State Government has said the demolition was part of an effort to reclaim the right-of-way and remove illegal structures along the waterfront. But for the displaced families of Oworonshoki, the policy has come with unbearable pain. Hunger, homelessness, and despair now define their days, as they struggle to rebuild from the rubble of what was once their only home.
