The Victoria Island boasts waterfront pricey homes, sleek cars and expensive speed boats. But in the same area, especially under bridges, it is life amidst filth
By Ernest Omoarelojie
For so long, Lagos has been known for being home to the good, bad and ugly. In every human activity, there is ample exhibition of these traits. That perhaps explains why on virtually every street in the city, there is a combination of the most eye-catching edifices almost standing side by side with the most obscene eyesores. And just as it is along highways, the waterways have their own fair share. This is what we found on a speedboat ride around Lagos Island.
We began the journey at Tarzan Jetty, along the Lekki Expressway. As soon as we hit the long stretch of water by the expressway, through Ozumba Mbadiwe, we felt a sense of relief being aloft by merely looking at the nearby road reduced to a museum of still vehicles blocked by a snarling traffic that stretched to as far as the eye could see. We were particularly enthralled by the large number of beautiful, ocean-going speedboats parked along the Civic Centre’s jetty, the quiet rendezvous for mostly young men and women with deep pockets. It has also become an attractive spot for dreamers to take a sneak view as the upwardly mobile indulge themselves in their fantasies. As our boat sliced through the lagoon unhindered, we were enraptured by the beautiful structures on both sides of the water.
Far from the headaches of daily Lagos life, I could not help but take deep breathes, wallowing in the breeze that had a therapeutic effect on my jaded nerves. But just as we got close to the Falomo Bridge, we were suddenly jarred back to reality. Though the beauty of surrounding structures had not diminished, under the overpass was home to a slum that equalled any I had ever seen onshore. There, a number of people – fishermen and homeless urchins – live alongside the massive heaps of debris atop the foundation of the columns supporting the bridge, apparently unmindful of the health hazards.
Nothing much caught our fancy as we sailed from Falomo to Independence Bridge. But as we entered the Marina stretch, we were again confronted by a beautiful landscape, accentuated by the garden along the erstwhile Area Boys-infested lagoon bank and the towering buildings across the street. But, again, the scenic beauty gave way to the absurd as we sped up to the Apongbon stretch. Beyond the snail-paced traffic that reminded us of what we must live with in Lagos, we viewed an absurd picture on the bank of the lagoon. For instance, unlike the open space under Falomo bridge, we found makeshift bunkers where people live without a care under Eko and Carter bridges. While some of the people there were just too pre-occupied to be bothered by our presence – some even stooping nonchalantly to expel whatever was bothering their bowels – not a few thought we were intruding on their privacy. In one particular instance, a young man standing precariously on a tripod left under the bridge by construction workers, looked down at us with disdain, opened his fly and let loose torrents of urine.
Yet, there were others who were markedly hostile. Even from afar, it was easy to know that they would not tolerate anyone coming too close to what has become their safe haven. They did not wait for us to get near before shouting: Ma ya photo ni’bi o, (Don’t take photographs here).
Still on the stretch, we literally sailed into a cloud of pungent marijuana smoke. It did not take so long for us to locate the source. Under the bridge was a group of young men so committed to smoking their sticks that one would conclude that their lives depended on it. Above them, on the pedestrian walkway running alongside the bridge, was another group, which included a uniformed traffic officer. While the rest were busy puffing away, he was enjoying the company of a young woman who snoozed up to him as she lit his joint. Satisfied, he raised his head and exhaled a cloud of smoke that reminded me of those long gone chimneys of coal-driven steamers. So engrossed was he that he didn’t even bother to look down when his colleagues pointed at us. Though our photographer managed to take some shots of him with others, we were particularly apprehensive that any one of them could have a gun. However, beyond mere curiosity, none of them gave our presence more than a disdainful look.
We moved on towards the Third Mainland Bridge, the seat of recent hardship for Lagosians who must now endure hours of traffic jam for a journey between Mainland and Island Lagos that was not meant to take more than a few minutes. From the river below, the bridge looked like a massive aircraft carrier. It was awesome. And as we approached the last stretch of the ride, we were once again sailing along the Lekki Expressway axis. As it was in the beginning, we were, once more, amidst fascinating pictures. On both sides of the water were private and corporate buildings, with competing aesthetic ambience.
By the time we ended the trip, we also found out that private jetties with bigger and more fanciful boats have become a status symbol in many homes at the edge of the lagoon, especially on the Lekki Expressway stretch. I disembarked, wondering what it would look like having all the boats on the sail at the same time. What a regatta it would be and a fascinating sight to behold! One thing, though, was clear, Lagos remains a city for all manner of people. Some live their lives to the hilt, others live below. Life goes on, anyhow.
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