In this piece, Gboyega Alaka catalogues the lifestyle of the Ilaje settlers in the riverine JMJ Community of Ajegunle, Lagos and how they have survived over decades in an environment begging for urgent government interventions.
It is a community in the backyard of Ajegunle. If you know Ajegunle to be a jungle city, as has been widely acclaimed over decades, then be prepared for a trip into a deeper, dingier and rougher jungle; where the alleys and labyrinthine routes are as twiny as a puzzle and a first-time visitor is sure to get lost, if unaccompanied.
It is perhaps for this reason that this crew of The Nation staff will remain grateful to the Baale of Tolu community, Alhaji Jelili Idowu Ajibola, to whose community, JMJ is a suburb; for his reception, friendliness and support on this adventure. Himself a middle-aged man, probably in his forties and obviously literate and urbane in his disposition, Baale Ajibola took time to give an insight into the history of the area called JMJ; and also take this crew right into the deeper JMJ slum, showing them around and even accompanying them to the home of the Olori-Ilaje (Head of the Ilaje Community), Chief Marshal Oyedele Obakpolo.
The major bus terminal nearest to JMJ is the popular Boundary (Ajegunle) Bus stop. From there, a first time visitor may negotiate his way via a bus, tricycle, motorcycle or foot. It is a sprawling community by a tributary of the Lagos Lagoon and plays host to a vast majority of Ilaje, a Yoruba ethnic group from Ondo State, South West Nigeria; with a little mixture of the other tribes. The first thing you notice as you get nearer and deeper into JMJ is the filth. But here and amongst the people, it doesn’t appear to be an issue. To put it mildly, both refuse and man have struck a peace accord. Even the entire bank of the stretch of the water is covered with refuse, punctuated only by little wooden cubicles reaching out onto the water and serving obviously as their toilets. Yes, the people mostly defecate into the water channel, in addition to dumping their refuse there as well. The result, is a thick dark filthy and smelly water. But they carried on and engaged in their day-to-day activities as if nothing was amiss.
Just a few meters from the refuse, pockets of women could be seen roasting fish, which they would soon ship into town through their little children and adult hawkers; to be sold to the larger Ajegunle community. Virtually everyone spoken to, claimed the filth is a non issue and that they hardly fall sick to such environment-induced diseases as cholera, typhoid and the likes.
Apapa Vs Ajegunle
Just a gaze across the water is the palatial and more illustrious Apapa industrial and residential area. Of course, one could also access JMJ via Apapa, crossing the nearly 100metres water channel. Even as Apapa has lost most of its plush and opulence, it is still a far cry and a big class difference remain visible between the two neighbourly community. What’s more, many agree that it is because of Apapa that the Ajegunle population rose uncontrollably in the 1950s and 60s; the majority of the inhabitants working either as industrial, office or domestic staff in the more illustrious area.
Stories had it that it was populated mostly by whitemen in the pre-colonial and immediate post colonial years, hence its popular acronym amongst people in Ajegunle – European Quarters.
Some improvement
For those who knew JMJ in the past, it used to be a community of wooden planks and corrugated iron sheets, situated mostly on the ‘river’. It was more or less a sprawling shanty that would ordinarily amaze a first-time visitor, much like the infamous Makoko, or worse. This visit however presented a bit of a surprise. Most of the houses were no longer of planks and wood; but of cement block, though poorly constructed and still in the lumped up format, with no consideration whatsoever to planning motorability or ventilation. The baale actually captured it most succinctly, when he said “the building pattern in JMJ could be such that when one neighbour opens his window, he is more likely to be opening it into another neighbour’s bedroom.”
May sound exaggerated, but it captures the scenario and condition under which the people in this community live. Little consideration is given to space or any kind of motor navigation.
But as picturesque and indicative of squalour as that description may portend, the Baale again captured the remarkable progress the place has recorded when he said, “When we were young, we used to make a joke that ‘When an Ilaje wants to cook soup, all she needed do was put pepper and oil on fire and then dip his or her hand in the water below as an after-thought to pick the fish he needs.”
The JMJ history
According to Baale Ajibola, JMJ, according to the story handed down to them, was the name of a person, an important personality at the time.
“He was very close to our fathers, including my own father, the immediate past baale. We also heard that he was the person given the contract to construct the Lagos National Stadium in the 1960s, as a minister. It was due to his prominence and influence at the time and the fact that he was a product of this area, and particularly an Ilaje man, that the stretch of land by the waterside now called JMJ, was leased to him. Of course you know that Ilaje people from Ilaje-Ese-Odo in Ondo State love to live around the river area because of their preferred professions of fishing and fish mongering, so it didn’t take long before they trooped here in droves and in no time formed a community. The name JMJ eventually stuck because it was he (Chief Joseph Modupe Johnson), who was allocating the space to the people.
On why the place has remained predominantly an Ilaje settlement after over five decades, Baale said “You know that as human beings, there is always a tendency to want to perpetuate yourself anywhere you find rest of mind and prosperity. That is why most of their people coming to Lagos always make JMJ their first stop. It is like a home away from home for them, as the lifestyle there is similar to what obtains in their home town. Like most Ilaje settlements, their main business is fishing; while their women do the selling, fresh and roasted. They are also into boat transport business. They have different points from which their boats take-off across the waterside stretch to Apapa and several nearby and distant backwater towns, such as Igbologun, Ijegun Imore, Sagbokoji and co.”
Asked if as baale, his authority covers the whole of the JMJ community, he explained that there is a limit. “We share boundary with Araromi Community. Both Tolu and Araromi, as well as the larger part of Ajegunle right to the Berger end of Kirikiri Road fall under Ajeromi Ifelodun Local Government. The Ilaje Community of JMJ also have their own head, whom we call Olori Ilaje. His name is Chief Marshal Oyedele Obakpolo. Our fathers agreed that it was necessary to appoint a leader for them from amongst themselves, since they had become such a big community of people. He is of course subject to the baale, but he plays a stabilising role and ensures peace amongst his people.”
(Ajegunle) Being an area known for its volatility and restiveness, we asked if he ever gets trouble signals from the community, Baale Ajibola said “The truth is that there is no community of people, where there are no issues, disagreements or rancour. But once we get wind of it, we simply call their head to summon them and put them in check. That is why I said that he plays a stabilising role. He is an elderly man, whom they all respect and differ to.”
Asked what he is doing to ensure that the unfortunate incident of 2007, when scores of youths and middle-aged men from the community perished in an Ijegun-Imore petrol pipeline vandalisation fire never happens again, Baale Ajibola said, that is something they wish never happens again. Aside the sorrow of loss of lives, he said it brought a lot of tarnish and embarrassment both to the JMJ community and the entire Tolu Commnuunity in general. As a result, he said “When that unfortunate incident happened, we summoned their elders and told them that we would not want such an issue to be emanating from our own domain because it’s a tarnish on the entire community and outsiders would not be able to differentiate between the two areas. In fact we told them in plain words to desist from such acts; and to the glory of God, we haven’t heard anything of the sort emanating from there anymore.”
On the deplorable hygiene situation in the area; the baale said “The main challenge is that PSP refuse evacuation vehicles cannot get into the area because of the way houses in the area are constructed. As a result, they just use and dump whatever waste they generate into the moving river. Let me say the luck they have is that the water is not a canal but a proper flowing water channel linking bigger water bodies; so once they dump the refuse and the tide rises, it washes the refuse away.
As a parting shot and another way of underlining the Ilajes adaptability to riverine environments, the baale again narrated a myth told during his childhood days, of how, to test for the paternity of a newly born baby, the people first threw their baby at birth into the water; if it flowed back up, it was said to be a true son/daughter of the home; but if it drowned, then the mother had a case to answer.
Olori Ilaje of JMJ
Soon after the chat with the baale, The Nation crew arrived at the home of the Olori-Ilaje, led by the baale himself. Chief Marshal Oyedele Obakpolo’s home is right on the bank of the lagoon tributary. Though variously described as a flowing water, the tributary looked to this reporter more like a water still in time, its dark liquid, repelling. A short distance to the back of the building right on the water, a wooden cubicle stood aloof – the family toilet. It was however the hostile gruel of a dog that first welcomed our team, ironically. But being familiar with the family and the beast, Baale Ajibola was able to calm him and lull him to quietude.
Coast cleared, baale invited these reporters into the living room. The Olori-Ilaje is an elderly man well above 70. Possibly in his 80s. Sitting on one of the sofas, the fair-skinned elderly man, who has been head of the JMJ Ilaje community for decades, looked frail, but his calmness and composure spoke of a man sure of himself and used to authority. After a brief introduction by the baale, this reporter opened the discussion from where he had left it off with the baale.
Just how true is the story of throwing newly born babies into the water to test their paternity?
To this Chief Obakpolo smiled quietly and said amidst chuckles: “Maybe there is some truth in it, but there is no water to throw any baby these days. All the water have become dirty and contaminated; and anybody who dared tries such will surely have himself to blame.”
He explained that in the past, the water was so clean that when you looked down from your apartment (which was mostly on water then), you would see fish swimming underneath. “But what we have now is thick darkness and smell.”
Clearly a man with a huge sense of humour, his response thus inevitably set the stage for a further discussion on hygiene. Since he has admitted that the water is now dirty and practically useless, and wells are not even a common sight, The Nation asked how they get their water supply.
The Olori-Ilaje said potable water is a major challenge in the community. “We have no water. What we have done overtime is to connect water from Water Corporation, who then give us bills. In the past, we got water from Apapa; but now, we have a Mini-Water Corporation in Temidire (Tolu), which supplies us water.”
Even then, he lamented that supply remains epileptic. Not too long ago, he said the water dried up for months, leaving the whole community in disarray and desperate. Now it is better, as the water only disappear for days; maximum a week or two.
But don’t the pipes conveying the water through open gutters burst and pose danger to their health?
The elderly chief shook his head in disagreement. “No, we don’t have health issues or disease outbreak. Our pipes no longer pass through gutters; so our water supply, when we get supplied, are clean and hygienic.”
About electricity however, Olori-Ilaje said “On that, please help us thank the power distribution company. It is not perfect but it is a lot of improvement from the past.” It must be said though that there was no light in the community all through the hours of this crew’s visit and interaction.
On toilet, Chief Obakpolo clearly sees nothing wrong with the direct deposition of excreta into the lagoon. “Our toilets are situated on the water and the flowing water flushes it away.”
Again, he maintained that they do not fall sick as a consequence. But should they fall sick, he admitted that there is a (government) hospital on nearby Salawu Street, in addition to several privately-run health facilities. Indeed this reporter took note of the gigantic Tolu Medical Centre, a private medical facility that has served the community for upward of three decades.
On how it is that his people are very comfortable living on or around water, Chief Obakpolo said “You cannot expect them to be afraid of water because they were born in water and grew up on water. You can see that our occupations also revolve around water. We are mainly into fishing, fish selling (by our women) and boat works ferrying and repairs.
On the fact that the environment has changed from a community largely build with plank and situated on water, Chief Obakpolo remarked jocularly that “Even the government has changed.”
‘It’s all bookish myth’
Leaving the chief’s house, we encountered a young lady just emerging from one of the toilets. After a bit of hesitation, she responded to a question on why she uses such a toilet, which experts say is a direct way of polluting the water and poisoning the fish. “All those stories about excreta affecting fish is all bookish myth. Is there any fish that does not eat poop? Fish eat poop, eat dead animal and humans in water and we still eat them. Have you ever heard that anybody fell sick for eating a fish that ate any of these things?” She asked rhetorically
The lady who eventually gave her name as Cecilia (though this reporter suspected it was a fake name) said “Okay, if you’re saying we should use water system toilet; where do you expect us to get water to flush after each use of the toilet? Even the ones that we flush; where do they go to? Is it not into the water?” With the last question hanging, she hissed and waltzed into an alley, disappearing out of sight.
Certainly there goes a lady set in her ways. A teenage boy not far away, who had been listening to this discussion chuckled and walked away, amused.
The fish mongers
Not too far from the chief’s home, this crew came across some women busy preparing fish for roasting. Curious, we asked if the fish were products of their men’s fishing exploration; but they sneered almost in unison and asked: “Where would anyone get such fish in the water nowadays. Yes their husbands fish, but the proceeds are lean and far between. The fish you see us preparing were bought from big fishing companies in Ijora (Lagos).”
“Take a look at the labels on the cartons,” one of the women, who requested to be addressed simply as Iya Eleja said. “You would see Banaly, Cosmos and Tarapa. Those are the brand names that we buy from the fish companies. It is in those days that our fathers used to go fishing and come back with huge catches. Now that is rare. People still go fishing on the river, but they barely catch enough for their family consumption.”
When this reporter pointed out that fish are not likely to survive in the filthy water, they all shook their heads in negation. One of them volunteered: “No, there is fish; it’s just that they have their own seasons, when they come out and fishermen catch them aplenty.”
On how well the business of roasted fish retailing is doing, Iya Eleja, whose voice had been lively all the while, surprisingly assumed the dirge tone. She lamented: “Fish is now too expensive. This recession is affecting everyone and it is so hard to stay in business. The reason you still see us here is because we have no other business to fall back to.”
Asked what they think of the refuse right behind them and if they were aware of the health implication, Iya Eleja explained that in most cases, it is the water that brings the refuse (from God knows where) to the area once the tide rises. “We are not dirty people. It is the water that brings the refuse. And if we decide to fill up the place, the tendency is for the water to be trapped when the tide recedes and create potopoto (marsh) everywhere.”
‘Our survival is tied to our environment’
As we spoke with the women, an elderly man joined our little crowd. He wanted to know these reporters’ mission, which we told him was to highlight the problems inhabitants of the community were facing as newsmen.
He welcomed the reporters. Even though he stylishly but surely declined giving his name, he said he has lived in the community for 45 years and as a retired civil servant of 35 years, he felt compelled to join in the discussion, when he overheard the discussion about environment.
Baba, as we have chosen to call him in this interview, said “The issue you have raised about hygiene is good, but the government should realise that fingers are not equal. Everybody cannot live in Surulere and Ikeja. Even in Ajegunle and the whole of the Apapa environs here, everybody cannot live in Wilmer and Kirikiri (two areas in the locality a bit more organised); therefore, hanging a treat of eviction on people living in riverine areas like they’re doing in Makoko is tantamount to telling the people to go back to their villages.
“To tell you the truth, some of these people you see here have their means of survival tied to this place. Take for instance this widow (points to one of the women). When I came here some 45 years ago, her husband laboured to build this house, and it is with this fish work and the rents from the house that she takes care of her children. How then do you want such a person to survive if you chase her away from here?
“As we speak, the economy is so bad that asking anybody to relocate is tantamount to driving them to suicide. There is no money to relocate to anywhere. Even the job they’re doing (fish roasting) is best suited for an environment like this, because if they go into town, people are more likely to complain that their activities are constitution a hazard to their health. Besides, we are Ilajes and we thrive better near water.” He rounded off.
Boat crossing
A few meters away is a boat jetty, where Olaniran Oguntimehin, sat lonely. But his loneliness is momentary, as he explained to The Nation that they are likely to see a huge traffic of people crossing back from Apapa, if they tarried a while.
“In another hour or two, students would soon begin to troop back from school in Apapa. And shortly after, the workers would follow. We have already had the morning traffic; and that is how we have it every working day. People prefer to cross the short water distance from here to Apapa to access their work-places, rather than go as far as Boundary (Ajegunle) or Coconut (along the Apapa-Oshodi Expressway).”
He revealed that the boat crossing point was founded by his late father in 1964 and it is the first crossing point along the JMJ stretch. Today, it has become a trans-generational family business and I hope to pass it to those coming behind me.
On the average, he said “We make between N15,000 and N20,000 daily. But that may be child’s play compared to what other places, where there is bigger traffic.”
About the water, Oguntimehin said “It is nothing. Even as dark and smelly as you think it is, people still swim in the water. If you have the patience to wait, you’ll see some of the children come swimming. Even the Igbo children, who live in the community come here to swim; and you’d be amazed at their swimming skills.”
He recalled how in the ’70s, the water was still “very wide, clean and gleaming, you’d think you were in a swimming pool.”
AbdulLateef, the boat engine repairer
Not too far from the boat crossing sat Abdul-Lateef, a boat engine repairer. This afternoon, business was dull as he had no job at hand; but he insisted that his is a lucrative profession, even more than auto mechanic.
“We are only two in this area, and being a waterside, where boats operate, you should understand what I mean. It is with this job that I take care of my family and send my children to school. My family lives in Sango (Ogun State), while I live around here and go to visit them from time to time.
Tell Buhari
As our team prepared to leave, this reporter stumbled on a rather huge stack of logs. Following the lead, we stumbled on a rather huge fish smoking factory, yet on the bank of the ‘river’. But the women were not co-operative and rebuffed virtually all questions.
“What exactly are you prying about for?” They asked. “We don’t want to answer any questions, as this will not be the first time we’d be answering survey questions. Nothing has ever come out of it. The other time, some group came here, asked questions, filled their books and promised us huge freezers to store our fish. We are still waiting for the freezers.”
Thinking that these were government officials, they launched a tirade on the current government, lamenting the harsh economy. “Tell Buhari, Tell Ambode, that we are suffering. We are hungry; everything has gone comatose. That is all we have for you.” One of them said.
Another hissed. See how empty this place is. You need to come here years back and see the activities taking place here.” While another, who works as a carrier said “Look, two weeks hard labour is not enough for me to feed for two days. See how bad things have become? Tell Buhari.
However, one of them, a young lady, who claimed to have an HND in Marketing came forward. She said, “Take a look at me. My dream was that after my HND in Marketing, I would migrate from this smoke job of my parents to work in cosy air-conditioned office. But after an endless and fruitless job search, I had to come join my parents here to eke a living. That should tell you why we are all hostile.”
It’s not true that they don’t fall sick – CMD, Tolu Medical Centre
From your record or observation, what is the most common illnesses suffered in the JMJ area?
From my observation, I’d say the most common illnesses that they present to our facility are diarrhea diseases, respiratory tract infections, and acute malaria.
During interactions with the people, they all vehemently insisted that they hardly fall sick. How true is this?
From our records, I can tell you that that assertion is false, as we attend to a sizeable number of patients with various kinds of illnesses from that community. An up-to-date health statistics data from the local government may also help show the true state of things.
How frequently do you get cases of environmental diseases such as cholera, typhoid fever and the likes?
The JMJ community is a densely populated one, with poor patterned building plan; hence their constant predisposition to environmental health issues. As mentioned earlier, we see cases of malaria, gastro-enteritis and other illnesses; and these can be traced to the poor environmental layout of the community. We also see cases of public health importance like pulmonary tuberculosis, and more recently (three weeks ago), a case of cholera from that community.
Can you relate their common illnesses to their immediate environment?
Of course it has a direct cause-effect relationship. The malaria, respiratory tract infections and diarrhea cases can be attributed to the overcrowded population with inadequate ventilation and poor sanitation practices in the community.
We also found that most of them defecate directly into the water channel behind them. They seemed to be sure it’s a harmless habit. Can you educate us a bit on the effect on both the aquatic life and the people living in the environment?
It’s rather appalling and inexcusably shocking to note that such belief system still thrive in a community located in a fast-growing city like Lagos. Open defecation as it’s otherwise called leads to preventable diseases, such as cholera outbreak, typhoid and diarrhea illnesses, which are among the highest causes of illness and death, particularly of children in developing countries. This is also a major polluter of water bodies, as it depletes the water of oxygen needed to sustain aquatic life, thereby distorting the eco-system. In going forward, sanitation laws must be enforced by the government, with provision of decent toilet facilities accessible to all.
JMJ, the man
Full name Joseph Modupe Johnson, JMJ, a former Federal Minister of Labour, Welfare and Sports (and later as Minister of The Interior) was born on March 30, 1912. He was born in Lagos and educated at the William Wilberforce Academy. He was an ex-service man, who served in the Nigerian Army between 1939 and 1946.
After a stint as a businessman, he delved into politics and was elected into the Ibadan District Council in 1948. He later became the first and only ever non-indigene to serve as Chairman of the Council.
As Minister in charge of Sports, he built the National Sports Stadium in Lagos, first and largest of its kind in the country then.
He in collaboration with London-based world-renowned boxing promoter, Jack Solomons, staged the first World Boxing Title fight in Africa in Ibadan (well ahead of the much publicised ‘Rumble in the Jungle’ of Zaire) in Nigeria in 1963 between Nigeria’s Dick Tiger and Gene Fullmer.
He also earned a reputation for himself, when as President of the Nigerian branch of ILO (International Labour Organisation), he resigned, to protest the admission of the then apartheid South Africa as member.
JMJ, as he was fondly called, was born into Lagosian and Brazilian families in Lafiaji. He died on June 15, 1987.
Source- Wikipedia
