…the streets did not do this alone. Somewhere along the line, our walkways were promoted from pedestrian space to official trading corridors. A little daily levy here, a small ticket there, and suddenly the sidewalk became an asset class. The pedestrian, now unemployed, was forced into the road to negotiate life between okadas, keke marwas, and divine protection
As we landed, the pilot announced proudly,
“Welcome to the most beautiful city in the world.”
Confidence. I liked it.
Table Mountain rose like a sermon illustration. The V&A Waterfront sparkled. The hills behaved. Even the deserts seemed well-mannered. I smiled and told my host,
“When you visit Nigeria, you’ll be equally impressed.”… I boasted.
They came.
Night service? Beautiful.
Church? Impressive.
Sheraton? Five-star approval.
Then came the daylight tour.
We started with Banana Island … elite, exclusive, expensive. My guest nodded politely, but his eyes wandered. He studied the bare verges, the hard edges, the stubborn absence of flowers and green.
“In my city,” he said gently, “this would pass for a medium-income suburb.”
Ikoyi followed … polished, proper. Still, the comparison lingered in the air.
So I raised the stakes. “Let’s go to Badagry,” I said.
History! Heritage! The slave route!
We went via Ikotun.
Mountains of refuse appeared. Streets became bazaars. Every frontage turned into a business proposal.
My guest slowed down. Looked around. Looked at me ; then smiled, the kind of smile people wear when they are about to be polite and devastating at the same time.
“So,” he said lightly, “this must be where your millionaires come to feel at home.”
At that moment, Lagos introduced itself … not as a megacity, but as a mobile marketplace.
Of course, the streets did not do this alone. Somewhere along the line, our walkways were promoted from pedestrian space to official trading corridors. A little daily levy here, a small ticket there, and suddenly the sidewalk became an asset class. The pedestrian, now unemployed, was forced into the road to negotiate life between okadas, keke marwas, and divine protection.
And so, we didn’t just lose our markets.
We lost our pavements.
But habits can be unlearned.
Streets can return to being streets.
Homes can go back to being homes.
Yes, we can fix this.
Yes, we should.
It starts with discipline, enforcement… and local governments that remember zoning laws were written for cities, not cash registers.
Moral of the Satire
▪️ A city without planning becomes a marketplace with traffic lights.
▪️ When sidewalks start paying rent, pedestrians start risking their lives.