After an uninterrupted 11-year stay in Spain, Teniayo Martins visited Nigeria, and gamely offered to stay with her senior sister, Busola, in the two rooms that she lived in a public yard in the slums of Ijesha, Surulere, Lagos.
“Even before I came back, I knew it wouldn’t be easy staying in such a place, but I wanted to spend time with my only sister and not go and waste money in some hotel,” she said. “I wanted to show her that my love for her is greater than whatever discomfort I might face in living there.”
Ms. Martins bravely endured the living conditions of tenants of the building for two days; woke up to find rashes all over her body on the third day; and fled to a nearby hotel.
The massively growing population of the city and its attendant effect on the astronomical rent rates have resulted in the large number of slums that dot the metropolis.
The buildings in these slums are usually constructed in such a manner that as many single rooms as possible are crammed into a building, often with a single toilet and bathroom. Some of these buildings have no kitchens, and tenants cook inside their living rooms in some cases.
“The living conditions in these ‘face me-I face you’ arrangements are quite awful,” said Elizabeth Kadiri, an estate agent. “But the fact is that they are very important for the low-income earners. For one to be able to afford living in at least a three-bedroom flat, that person definitely needs to earn a decent wage in this city.”
Tenants of such living quarters have devised ingenious means of adjusting to the harsh conditions of living in these public yards. Some of them have gone to extreme lengths to preserve their sanity.
The communal life
Residents living in such close quarters with other tenants are forced to adopt a communal life; often with dire consequences.
“My room is the first room as soon as you enter the compound, and as long as my door is not locked, everybody wants to greet me on his way out or in,” said Amechi Emecheta who lives with thirty-seven other tenants in a twenty-six room bungalow in Ojo.
“Sometimes I will be asleep, and because my door is always open because of the heat, people will just disturb because they simply want to greet you. It always gets on my nerves.”
For fifteen-year-old Henrietta Odewale (not real names), the communal spirit which resulted in undergoing errands for every older resident of the twenty-four room one-storey building in Ijesha, Surulere, resulted in her being allegedly serially raped by a middle-aged co-tenant who frequently lured her into his room by sending her on errands.
“The worst thing is that the idiot is a (member of) Chosen (Charismatic Church), and was always preaching to neighbours,” said Henrietta’s mother, who gave her name as Titi. “I never suspected anything initially. It was after my daughter started walking somehow that we suspected and asked her.”
Chairman of the tenants of the house, Anthony Okoye, invited the police to take over the case; but was surprised at the consequence of his actions.
“To my utmost surprise, they came and started insulting me for taking the man to the police,” he said. “They said I was too rash. What else should I have done when the man confessed to rape? The eventually settled the case when he agreed to pay N60, 000 to the girl’s mother.”
The hazards
Fumes from generators, inadequate ventilation arrangements, overcrowded rooms, and filthy toilet facilities are some of the dangers that tenants of such residences go through. However, most of them seem blissfully unaware of the hazards.
“Me and my wife sleep on the floor, and our three children sleep on the bed,” said Chinedu Oguejiofor, a refrigerator seller who resides in a one-room apartment with his family at Odo-eran, Ijesha.
Paul Udemba and his family have a slightly better living arrangement; they live in two adjoining rooms in an eighteen-room public building at Mushin. However, there is a catch; the toilet facilities are so dirty that Mr. Udemba and his wife have not used the toilet in their home since 2005. Their two children, ages four and three, use plastic buckets behind their compound.
“I make sure I leave the house as early as 6am, and usually use the toilet near my office (at Lawanson, Surulere where he trades in fairly used microwave ovens),” he said. “My wife also lives early, and uses the toilet at her own office. The toilet is not conducive for a reasonable man to use in discharging his duties.”
Yearning for better digs
If there is one thing that tenants who live in such conditions share, it is a sense of escapism. Some have aspired to move to better living conditions, and have struggled with raising the required amount to meet the stiff rents charged associated with the metropolis for years.
“I used to live with my uncle and his wife in a single room (apartment) for three years, but now I live in my own room,” said Sheriff Ade, a generator repairman. “By God’s grace, I will move into two rooms before I marry.”
The average rate for a three-bedroom flat in the city is N500, 000 per annum; and many property owners still demand for two, or more, years advance rent before letting out their property; despite a state law that criminalizes advance rent.
For most low-income earners like Mr. Ade, aspiring to move into such digs is not an option.
Some, like Ms. Martins’ sister, have turned their quarters into comfort zones that they are loathe to move into better accommodations. “I tried to get her to move into a flat but she asked me what she will be doing in a flat,” she said. “I don’t understand how people can be suffering like this and still be happy.”
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