Homes on Water, Lives in Limbo: How Lagos’ Push for Development Is Unmooring Makoko’s Poor
Korede Abdullah 
LAGOS, Nigeria – The first sound was not an announcement or a siren. It was the slow, grinding roar of heavy machinery breaking through the calm rhythm of paddles on water. In Makoko, Lagos’ famed waterfront settlement, that sound marked the start of an upheaval that would leave thousands homeless, livelihoods destroyed and an old argument about development and dignity painfully revived.
In this report, Korede Abdullah visits Makoko to examine the human, economic and social cost of the Lagos State Government’s demolition exercise, as residents struggle to survive amid promises of urban renewal and fears that history is repeating itself.
Often described as the “floating community” of Lagos, Makoko has for decades stood as a symbol of resilience on the margins of formal urban planning. Built on wooden stilts above the Lagos Lagoon, it is home to thousands of low-income residents who depend largely on fishing, petty trading and water transport for survival.
Despite its informal status, Makoko functions as a tightly knit social and economic ecosystem. Families raise children, traders move goods by canoe, and neighbours rely on one another in a city where housing remains largely unaffordable for the poor.
That fragile balance was shaken when the Lagos State Government began demolition exercises in parts of the waterfront community, citing enforcement of planning laws, environmental protection and flood prevention under Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu’s administration.
For residents, the intervention has brought shock, loss and deep uncertainty.
Sudden Loss, Little Warning
Many residents say the demolitions came abruptly, leaving them little time to retrieve belongings before homes and shops were pulled down.
Blessing Erema, a resident who spoke with Africa Health Report, recalled the moment officials arrived.
“We just saw officials and machines pulling down houses. Many of us did not have enough time to remove our belongings. Now, we don’t know where to go or how to start again,” she said while sobbing.
Her experience reflects the distress shared by many families who lost shelter, savings and stability within hours. Several displaced residents now live with relatives or in overcrowded temporary spaces, increasing their vulnerability to poverty, illness and psychological stress.
Beyond Makoko: A Wider Pattern
Makoko is among several waterfront and informal settlements affected by demolition exercises across Lagos. Thousands of wooden homes, trading stalls and community structures have reportedly been destroyed in recent months.
While government officials insist the actions targeted illegal and unsafe buildings, residents and rights advocates argue that the scale of destruction has gone beyond safety enforcement, leaving families displaced without adequate notice, compensation or resettlement options.
Some families have relocated outside Lagos entirely, while others struggle to rebuild livelihoods in a city already strained by unemployment and rising living costs.
Livelihoods Lost with Homes
In Makoko, housing and income are inseparable. When structures fall, businesses collapse with them.
Boat operator Mr. Ebidowei Samuel said the demolition destroyed both his home and his workplace.
“This is where I live and also where I keep my boat for daily business. Since they destroyed the place, I have not been able to operate normally. My children and wife are now staying with friends, and it is affecting how we survive,” he lamented.
He added that transport within the community has become more difficult and expensive since jetties and access routes were damaged, disrupting daily movement and commerce.
The experience of Samuel illustrates how demolition often wipes out entire micro-economies that sustain informal settlements.
Health and Sanitation Concerns
Beyond economic hardship, residents warn that displacement has worsened health and sanitation conditions.
Fisherman Ibiso Sunday said the exercise destroyed the small shop his wife ran, which supported the family.
“I am a fisherman and invested the little income I made in my wife’s shop. My shop and goods were destroyed during the demolition. I invested all my savings into that business. Right now, I don’t have any means of income,” he said.
Sunday warned that overcrowding in remaining structures has reduced access to toilets and clean water.
“The government should talk to community leaders and provide somewhere for us to stay before demolishing our homes. Many of us are poor and cannot afford new accommodation.”
Public health advocates caution that such conditions heighten the risk of disease outbreaks in already vulnerable communities.
Emergency and Education Risks
Disrupted waterways have also made emergency medical care more dangerous.
Boat operator Ekiyekumo Solomon explained that night-time medical evacuations are now riskier.
“If somebody is seriously sick at night, it is very risky to move them. Some people lose their lives before they reach a hospital,” he said.
Education has suffered as well.
“Some children are bright, but poverty forces them to stop school. Many parents cannot pay school fees or buy books.”
For many families, displacement has pushed education from priority to luxury, threatening long-term social mobility.
Economic Experts Raise Alarm
Economist Abiodun Lasisi, speaking by phone, criticised the demolitions for undermining Lagos’ informal economy.
“Makoko represents a large informal economic hub that supports thousands of families. Demolishing homes and business structures without comprehensive resettlement plans disrupts economic activities and pushes more people into extreme poverty,” he said.
Lasisi urged inclusive planning.
“Development should not come at the expense of the poor. Governments must adopt participatory planning by engaging affected communities and providing viable alternatives before carrying out demolitions.”
Legislative Intervention
Public outcry prompted the Lagos State House of Assembly to intervene.
Chairman of an ad hoc committee, Mr. Noheem Adams, announced that demolitions should stop.
“All demolitions in Makoko and its waterfront communities should stop with immediate effect until further notice… As your representatives, we assure you that the demolition will be stopped and that all those whose properties have been demolished will be compensated,” Adams said.
Community leader Mr. Isaac Gunmayon welcomed the move.
“They invited us to explain what happened, and we discussed everything. The resolutions reached by the House reflect our wishes, and we are happy with the way they listened to us and gave us hope.”
Government’s Position
Despite criticism, the Lagos State Government maintains that the demolitions were necessary.
Special Adviser on E-GIS Olajide Babatunde said the state plans to invest about $10 million in regenerating Makoko through a proposed “water city” project.
“So far, government intervention has focused only on removing structures within the high-tension power line corridor to prevent accidents in the event of fallen wires,” he said.
Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu also defended the exercise while promising support.
“I have instructed both local governments and the various ministries concerned to see how they also can give additional succour, palliatives, and relocation stipends… It is to ensure that we all can live in a safe and secure environment.”
Law, Memory and the Future
Legal experts note that under Section 44 of the 1999 Constitution and the Land Use Act, land and waterways belong to the government in trust for the public.
Barrister Tayo Oloruntola said legality does not remove moral responsibility to protect vulnerable citizens.
The Makoko demolitions have revived memories of the 1990 Maroko eviction, raising broader questions about social justice, governance and urban inequality in Lagos.
As Africa’s largest city races toward modernisation, Makoko’s struggle highlights a central dilemma: whether development can proceed without erasing the lives of the poor.
For now, thousands remain suspended between water and uncertainty — waiting to see whether Lagos’ future will make room for them, or leave them behind.
About the Author
Oluwatobi Adu 
Edino Chubiyo Cornelius 
Otamere Gladness 