Letter from Lagos
It is only a short boat ride from Victoria Island to Makoko. In the space of twenty minutes you leave the “Singapore of Nigeria” with its high-rise banks and tech firms to reach a floating, densely populated, township. The night before, we met with the Captains of Industry, all educated overseas who had travelled back to Lagos to make it their home. They rightly describe themselves as proud Lagosians.
Over dinner, I remarked that the Third Mainland Bridge linking Lagos with the islands, at 11.8 kilometres was only two kilometres short of the narrowest point between Europe and Africa. It is an amazing gently curving suspended structure that links the relative wealth of the islands with the rest of the population. It rises high above twenty million people. Four years ago, Nigerian doctors saved the country from an Ebola outbreak as they gave their lives at the frontline when dealing with a transit passenger at the airport. Few disagree that if Ebola had have spread in Lagos, we might be dealing with still.
The talk over dinner was light banter, a conundrum was on the horizon. For the deeply Christian population, the fact that Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day fall together is a small embarrassment. Some will celebrate Valentine’s Day on Tuesday, others had not decided yet. Two years ago, I was in Calabar on Ash Wednesday, when thousands came for ashes. The Priests told us that everybody comes for ashes, not just the Christians but also local Muslims and many non-believers. Ashes are much older than religion in these parts were superstition is rife.
In the eleven kilometre traffic jam, young students in bright red Valentine polo shirts are handing out pamphlets offering 14% discount. This is to mark the day in the month of love. One pamphlet boasts a discount to buy an apartment in a newly reclaimed area of Lagos. An extreme Valentine present perhaps but in a city where everything is possible, somebody just might wake up to a red rose and the plans of a new home.
The visit to Makoko was organised by the Lagos Field Society as an opportunity to share diverse cultures and in this case, habitats of Nigeria. If you searched Makoko online, you would see it described as an “urban slum”. This is not reflected in a population, at once at ease with itself. It was Sunday morning and as we passed through narrow channels in a pirogue, we drifted silently through normal life. A family, all donned in white, on their way to church. Gospel singing in the background, boats full of people in their Sunday best, vibrant colours, loud and proud.
In Makoko, a new home can be built if the local chief awards a plot. Most dwellings seem to be knocked together with drift wood and whatever can be salvaged from the sea. Our guide beams with pride and opens his arms wide to tell us, “the air is fresh here, we live on fresh fish, we are fresh people!”
