Death Toll Hits 19 as Lagos Government Demolish Houses, Police Fires Teargas at Residents
By: Manoah Kikekon
LAGOS, NIGERIA — What began as a "safety intervention" in the ancestral fishing community of Makoko, Lagos State, Nigeria has spilled over into neighboring Bariga, leaving a trail of blood and displacement in its wake. As the Lagos State Government ramps up its urban renewal drive, the human cost has reached 19 death.
The latest victim, Hunga Ahigbe Yvette, a hardworking fish seller and mother, breathed her last on Sunday morning. Her death is a haunting microcosm of the chaos currently gripping the waterfront communities near the Third Mainland Bridge. On Saturday, as the roar of bulldozers signaled the end of her Bariga home, Yvette rushed indoors to salvage what little she owned. She never made it out unscathed.
According to her son, Aloya Hunga, Yvette was trapped in a cloud of chemical irritants. "She was in the room when the shouting started. She saw the bulldozer right at her doorstep," Aloya told News Peddlers. "As she struggled to move her properties, tear gas was fired directly at her. She couldn’t breathe. We rushed her to the hospital, but by morning, she was gone."
Related News:
CSOs Accuse Sanwo-Olu of Clearing Makoko for Elite Interests
Lagos Governor Sanwo-Olu Defends Makoko Demolition Amid Growing Outcry
The transition from Makoko to Bariga caught residents completely off guard. Benjamin Hunponu, a Makoko resident who has been tracking the destruction, described a scene of tactical ambush. "The demolition team left Makoko on Friday night; we thought it was over. But by Saturday morning, they were in Bariga, demolishing houses without a single day's notice," he lamented.
The enforcement, residents claim, has been nothing short of a war zone. Beyond the heavy machinery, security forces have reportedly used aggressive tactics to suppress documentation of the events. "They were firing tear gas at anyone moving property," Hunponu added. "They were even beating people and seizing phones to stop us from taking videos or pictures of what they are doing to us."
The grief is spreading like a contagion across the lagoon. Zunsu Prosper, another distraught resident, shared the story of her 65-year-old mother, Ajaji Kluno Albat. A resident of Makoko, Albat’s health spiraled after she was teargassed during the demolition of her home earlier this month. She died days later, her body now resting in a cold morgue a statistic in a city that claims to be "repositioning" for the future.
Civil Society Organizations (CSOs) and the coalition of affected residents have sounded a frantic alarm. Reports indicate that since the escalation in early January 2026, over 3,000 homes have been leveled, rendering more than 10,000 people homeless. Among the 19 recorded deaths are at least two infants, whose fragile lungs could not withstand the chaos and chemicals of the forced evictions.
The destruction has not spared essential infrastructure. While the government speaks of "sustainability," the reality on the ground shows the ruin of community-built schools and clinics. In some instances, residents reported that armed personnel set structures ablaze, ensuring that nothing not even a single plank could be salvaged from the ruins of their lives.
Despite the rising body count, the Lagos State Government remains firm in its stance. The Commissioner for Information and Strategy, Gbenga Omotoso, defended the actions as "necessary interventions." He argued that the demolitions are designed to prevent disasters and improve safety, framed as a bitter but necessary pill to transform Lagos into a "resilient megacity."
Echoing this sentiment, Olajide Babatunde, the Special Adviser to the Governor on e-GIS and Urban Development, emphasized that the removals followed rigorous safety assessments. He pointed to the relocation of Oko Baba residents to modern estates as a success story, urging Lagosians to adhere to planning regulations to avoid such "conflicts" in the future.
As the bulldozers continue their mechanical march along the Lagos waterfront, the question remains: at what point does the cost of "progress" become too high? For now, the people of Bariga and Makoko are left to bury their dead and wonder who will be the twentieth name on a list that no one wanted to start.
By: Manoah Kikekon
LAGOS, NIGERIA — What began as a "safety intervention" in the ancestral fishing community of Makoko, Lagos State, Nigeria has spilled over into neighboring Bariga, leaving a trail of blood and displacement in its wake. As the Lagos State Government ramps up its urban renewal drive, the human cost has reached 19 death.
The latest victim, Hunga Ahigbe Yvette, a hardworking fish seller and mother, breathed her last on Sunday morning. Her death is a haunting microcosm of the chaos currently gripping the waterfront communities near the Third Mainland Bridge. On Saturday, as the roar of bulldozers signaled the end of her Bariga home, Yvette rushed indoors to salvage what little she owned. She never made it out unscathed.
According to her son, Aloya Hunga, Yvette was trapped in a cloud of chemical irritants. "She was in the room when the shouting started. She saw the bulldozer right at her doorstep," Aloya told News Peddlers. "As she struggled to move her properties, tear gas was fired directly at her. She couldn’t breathe. We rushed her to the hospital, but by morning, she was gone."
Related News:
CSOs Accuse Sanwo-Olu of Clearing Makoko for Elite Interests
Lagos Governor Sanwo-Olu Defends Makoko Demolition Amid Growing Outcry
The transition from Makoko to Bariga caught residents completely off guard. Benjamin Hunponu, a Makoko resident who has been tracking the destruction, described a scene of tactical ambush. "The demolition team left Makoko on Friday night; we thought it was over. But by Saturday morning, they were in Bariga, demolishing houses without a single day's notice," he lamented.
The enforcement, residents claim, has been nothing short of a war zone. Beyond the heavy machinery, security forces have reportedly used aggressive tactics to suppress documentation of the events. "They were firing tear gas at anyone moving property," Hunponu added. "They were even beating people and seizing phones to stop us from taking videos or pictures of what they are doing to us."
The grief is spreading like a contagion across the lagoon. Zunsu Prosper, another distraught resident, shared the story of her 65-year-old mother, Ajaji Kluno Albat. A resident of Makoko, Albat’s health spiraled after she was teargassed during the demolition of her home earlier this month. She died days later, her body now resting in a cold morgue a statistic in a city that claims to be "repositioning" for the future.
Civil Society Organizations (CSOs) and the coalition of affected residents have sounded a frantic alarm. Reports indicate that since the escalation in early January 2026, over 3,000 homes have been leveled, rendering more than 10,000 people homeless. Among the 19 recorded deaths are at least two infants, whose fragile lungs could not withstand the chaos and chemicals of the forced evictions.
The destruction has not spared essential infrastructure. While the government speaks of "sustainability," the reality on the ground shows the ruin of community-built schools and clinics. In some instances, residents reported that armed personnel set structures ablaze, ensuring that nothing not even a single plank could be salvaged from the ruins of their lives.
Despite the rising body count, the Lagos State Government remains firm in its stance. The Commissioner for Information and Strategy, Gbenga Omotoso, defended the actions as "necessary interventions." He argued that the demolitions are designed to prevent disasters and improve safety, framed as a bitter but necessary pill to transform Lagos into a "resilient megacity."
Echoing this sentiment, Olajide Babatunde, the Special Adviser to the Governor on e-GIS and Urban Development, emphasized that the removals followed rigorous safety assessments. He pointed to the relocation of Oko Baba residents to modern estates as a success story, urging Lagosians to adhere to planning regulations to avoid such "conflicts" in the future.
As the bulldozers continue their mechanical march along the Lagos waterfront, the question remains: at what point does the cost of "progress" become too high? For now, the people of Bariga and Makoko are left to bury their dead and wonder who will be the twentieth name on a list that no one wanted to start.
