CHINYERE OKOROAFOR, in this highly intriguing narrative, catalogues the excitement and memories of a recent trip to the ancient town of Badagry alongside some of her colleagues at The Nation Newspapers.
Last month, I joined my colleagues from Vintage Press Limited on an unforgettable journey to Badagry, a coastal town rich in history. Vintage Press Limited, by the way, is the publishing company of The Nation Newspaper and Sporting Life. As we explored its historic sites and vibrant culture, I felt compelled to uncover the stories that have long been hidden within its walls. This trip was more than just an exploration of landmarks; it was a chance to connect with the powerful narratives that shape the unique town.
It was a serene Saturday morning, with the sun still gentle, hovering just above the horizon, casting a soft, golden hue over Lagos. The air was crisp, fresh from the night’s cool, while the sky, a delicate shade of pale blue, stretched endlessly above us. As I joined the staff bus at Mile 2, the world around me seemed to shimmer in the morning glow, the air still fresh with a hint of the night’s coolness.
The day held the promise of discovery, a journey back into Nigeria’s rich and tumultuous history, waiting to unfold beneath the brightening sky.
As we made our way towards the tranquil coastal town nestled by the Atlantic Ocean, a sense of anticipation swirled through the air. Inside The Nation’s Coaster staff bus, administrative staff members and journalists buzzed with conversation, excitement and perhaps the desire to uncover the untold stories of a town that once witnessed both the horrors of slavery and the early stirrings of Christianity in Nigeria. The weight of history seemed to linger in the distance, just waiting to be discovered.
Badagry had always been on my list of historic Nigerian towns to explore, and I imagined it held a similar allure for some of my colleagues. My only visit so far had been in 2021, when I joined the convoy of the Lagos State Ministry of Tourism, Arts, and Culture as a reporter. It was for the commissioning of the Vlekete Slave Museum, an event presided over by Lagos State Governor, Babajide Sanwo-Olu, represented by the Secretary to the State Government, Mrs. Sherifat Folashade Jaji. That single glimpse left me intrigued, yet it was just one chapter of the town’s vast history.
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Badagry’s First School
Our first stop was at what is now called St. Thomas Primary School, but in 1843 it was a humble establishment known as the “Nursery of the Infant Church.” Our tour guide, an eloquent dark in complexion young man with a voice that seemed to carry the weight of centuries, recounted how a couple, Mr. and Mrs. De Graft, founded the school in 1843. At the time, it was merely a gathering of children learning under the watchful eyes of early missionaries. In 1845, the school was moved to a permanent site and renamed St. Thomas Primary School, becoming a symbol of educational reform and religious evangelism in Nigeria. As we stood in the schoolyard, the air seemed to thrum with the voices of children from another era, learning the basics of faith, reading, and writing.
The building that once housed the early pupils still stands, but it is now in a state of disrepair. As I walked through its crumbling structure, I noticed the original blackboard was still there. It wasn’t the usual black wooden board I was familiar with; instead, it was a blackboard cast in concrete, permanently fixed to the wall. I stood in the middle of the room and closed my eyes, trying to imagine what it must have been like back then when the missionaries taught there. I pictured their British accents echoing through the room as they delivered lessons. I wondered what subjects they taught and if the native pupils truly understood the language and concepts. It felt like stepping into a moment frozen in time, where the past and present collided.
Vlekete slave market museum: echoes of a dark past
As we drew closer to our next stop, the air seemed to grow heavier. The Vlekete Slave Market Museum loomed ahead, a solemn reminder of a dark chapter in history. I couldn’t help but recall being there for its commissioning in 2022.
The museum itself is a spacious, two-story building, divided into six galleries: the Middle Passage, Badagry, Travails, Enslavement, Slave Dealers, and Liberation galleries. Walking through each one is like retracing the steps of a harrowing journey. Every corner echoes the stories of those who once passed through here, bound in chains and sold like commodities. The museum’s story is told in both English and French, making it accessible to a wider audience. Replicas of slave tunnels and dungeons stand as stark reminders of where captives were held temporarily after being seized, awaiting their tragic fate of being shipped off to strange owners.
This place, once a bustling hub of human suffering and trade, now feels almost heavy with the memories of lives torn apart. Standing on that ground was sobering; the weight of its history pressed upon me, making it hard to escape the grim realisation of what once happened there. A stout-looking curator, knowledgeable and impassioned, led us through the museum, explaining that the market was named after Vlekete, a deity revered as the goddess of the ocean and wind. According to him, before slaves were forced onto their dangerous journey across the Atlantic, their captors sought the deity’s blessing, not to spare the captives, but to ensure their smooth delivery into a life of unimaginable hardship.
The irony of that ritual was haunting. To imagine men, women, and children, not pleading for their freedom, but for the mercy of a safe journey into bondage, left me in a somber state of reflection. The exhibits—the rusted chains and cuffs that once held them captive—were chilling relics of a reality that must not be forgotten. The replicas of tunnels and dungeons were startlingly vivid, and the detailed displays painted a grim picture of an era of exploitation and inhumanity.
As we moved from one gallery to another, there was much to learn and absorb. However, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment in the museum’s upkeep. For such a significant site, there were glaring issues. There was no running electricity, which left the small halls sweltering with heat, making it difficult to fully engage with the exhibits. Not even a fan was in sight to provide relief to visitors. These shortcomings seemed like a disservice to the importance of what the museum represents.
The Vlekete Slave Market, established in 1502, was named after the ocean and wind goddess, Vlekete. It played a central role during the Atlantic slave trade in Badagry. African middlemen would sell their fellow countrymen here to European merchants, making it one of the most populous slave markets in West Africa at that time.
The Agia Tree Monument: The first gospel Preached
Our third stop brought us to a crucial piece of Nigerian history—the site where the first Christian gospel was preached on Nigerian soil. Mr. Kuton Elias, our guide at the Agia Tree monument, told us how in 1843, Reverend Thomas Birch Freeman stood under the Agia tree, delivering the Christian message to a small gathering of listeners. Although the original tree is no longer there, a monument was erected in 1992 to mark the 150th anniversary of that pivotal moment.
The monument itself is shaped like a small auditorium, with two sets of stepped platforms with orange colour seats. At its center are three busts. One of these, an obelisk replacing the Agia Tree, carries an inscription: “The seat of the fallen Agia tree. Christianity first preached here in 1842.” Beside it are busts of Reverend Henry Townsend and Reverend Thomas Birch Freeman, two of the early missionaries who helped spread Christianity in Badagry. Behind the monument stands a small one-story building that serves as an office and offers convenience facilities for visitors.
The absence of the actual tree felt symbolic to me. While physical objects may disappear with time, the impact of beliefs and ideas endure, passed down through generations.
Mr. Elias also showed us a collection of old Nigerian currencies, from pre-colonial coins to present-day notes. As he detailed the history behind each currency, he admitted with a smile that he had spent the current N1000 and N500 notes when he needed them urgently. Touched by his honesty, Mr. Sunday Adeleke, the Executive Director of Finance and Administration at Vintage Press Limited, handed him the missing notes to complete the collection and also gave him some extra money for personal use. He encouraged the rest of the group to contribute as well.
During our conversation, Mr. Elias, who is 70 years old, shared that he has been managing the site since 2015. When asked about the early preachers, he explained that it was Reverend Henry Townsend who read the scripture while Reverend Thomas Birch Freeman delivered a sermon on “The Incarnation of the Redeemer of Mankind” under the Agia Tree.
Curious about his journey, I inquired how he became involved in maintaining the monument. Elias said, “The person that brought me here is one of our Christian brothers. He’s also a tour guide. I thank God today. We began the work, little by little.”
He also shared how he planted a new Agia tree in the original spot, pointing to where it stood. The original tree, he explained, was uprooted by a heavy rainstorm on June 20, 1959. The area now sees different Christian denominations coming together to celebrate Easter, Lent, and Christmas.
First Story Building: Christianity’s roots
Our fourth stop felt almost sacred—the first story building ever constructed in Nigeria by the Church Missionary Society (CMS). Built in 1845 by Reverend Henry Townsend, the building seemed to hold an air of reverence, as if it had witnessed too many firsts to be merely a structure.
The foundation of the building was laid in 1842, and it took three years to complete. Despite standing for over a century and a half, the building remains sturdy. As our guide led us through its rooms, I noticed the original corrugated iron sheets on the roof, preserved except for a few repairs. The white, one-story building has four stores, six rooms, two sitting rooms, and a secure safe for valuable items. Overlooking the marina waterfront, it stands almost as a sentinel of Nigeria’s history.
For a first-time visitor, the building serves as a kind of museum, preserving relics from the early days of Christianity and western education in Nigeria. It holds portraits of the first set of missionaries, the rooms they lived in, and records of their work. On the ground floor, we entered the room once occupied by Mr. Claudius Philips, Nigeria’s first Western teacher. In his portrait on the wall, Philips is dressed in a black shirt, suit, and white trousers. A blackboard hanging in his room reads, “The room of the first western teacher in Nigeria, Mr. Claudius Philips (1845–1868) and the school he started, Saint Thomas Primary School, which began with 40 men in 1845.” Philips lived in this room for 23 years, from 1845 to 1868.
As we continued, we learned about Reverend C.A. Gollmer, who supervised the building’s construction, Reverend Thomas Birch Freeman, the man who first sowed the seed of Christianity in Nigeria, and Reverend Henry Townsend, who arrived in Badagry in 1842. From the outside, the building looks old and weathered, but the wooden staircase leading upstairs remains solid.
The upper rooms are painted lime green, while the ground floor is painted white. In one of the rooms upstairs, designated as Bishop Samuel Ajayi Crowther’s, two Bibles from 1863 sit inside a glass case—one in English and the other in the Yoruba language, which Crowther translated himself. Seeing those yellowed pages of one of the first English Bibles brought to Nigeria by the CMS filled me with awe, as if I were standing before the earliest proof of Christianity’s roots in the country.
When I looked out the window, I tried to imagine the view the missionaries must have had of the Marina 176 years ago, a scene that connected the past to the present in a profound way.
We continued exploring the building and saw a foldable wooden chair hanging on the wall with the inscription “1878.”
Outside the building, we also saw signs marking where the first Anglican Church, school, boarding house, and kitchen once stood before they collapsed. Our guide told us that primary school students in those days were at least 45 years old, and the oldest students were 58. There were no secondary schools then, and these adults spent up to 12 years in primary school alone.
The guide explained that there was no fence around the building until after the abolition of slavery in the 1880s. Now, the compound also includes the Bishop Crowther Bible College. Despite being a national historical site, the building is run and maintained by the Anglican Church.
In the compound stands a well, dug in 1842. This well, known as the “Miracle Well,” was the first cemented well in Badagry and the entire state. It provided drinking water for the early missionaries, and even today, locals still draw water from it, believing in its healing powers. According to our guide, the locals named it the Miracle Well because of numerous stories of people who have been blessed by its water.
Though it’s centuries old, the well remains clear and uncontaminated. As our guide spoke, I decided to experience it myself. The water was cool, fresh, and inviting. Some of us took a sip and washed our faces, feeling somehow connected to its storied past.
As we gathered around the old building, taking photos and reflecting on its ability to endure over a century, our tour guide started a conversation that shed light on the way these historical sites were managed. Mr. Adeleke, alongside Mr. Emmanuel Badejo, the Political Assistant Editor at The Nation newspaper, Mr. Daniel Makama, a Financial Accountant at Vintage Press Limited, Mr. Sunday Omoniyi, the Chief Sub-Editor of The Nation, and Mr. Kabiru Sulaiman, the Credit Control Manager at Vintage Press Limited, listened closely as the guide shared his insights.
Mr. Adeleke had initiated the conversation, raising concerns about the upkeep and administration of sites like the Vlekete Slave Market Museum, the Agia Tree Monument, and the First Storey Building.
The conversation revealed a significant gap in how these sites were valued and maintained, highlighting the difference between state management and a community that took pride in its heritage. Mr. Adeleke and the others seemed to share a sense of urgency about the need for better preservation and management, not just for the sake of the structures but for the stories and history they represented.
The guide explained that both the Vlekete museum and the Agia Tree Monument were under the Lagos State Ministry of Arts and Tourism. However, unlike the First Storey Building, these sites seemed to suffer from neglect. “If you went behind the Agia Tree Monument,” he pointed out, “you’d see that the convenience facilities were left unfinished. They started the work but never completed it.”
In contrast, the First Storey Building, which holds great significance for the Anglican Church, is maintained with much more dedication. “It’s not just the Badagry diocese that values this place,” he explained. “The entire Anglican community in Nigeria sees it as their heritage. Whenever the story of Anglicanism is told, this place is central to that history. So, they make sure it is well cared for.”
I could sense the pride and commitment in his voice as he spoke. He emphasized that the attention given to the First Storey Building was not just about preserving a structure, but about honouring a part of the church’s history in Nigeria.
During the conversation, Mr. Adeleke also expressed concerns about how Mr. Elias, an elderly man who served as a guide and storyteller at the Agia Tree Monument, was compensated. Despite Mr. Elias’s wealth of knowledge and dedication to preserving the history of the site, he was paid only a small stipend by a consultant, not directly by the government. The consultant’s payments came from whatever revenue was generated through visitor fees. “It depends on the traffic,” our tour guide explained, suggesting that during times of low visitation, Mr. Elias earned very little.
Mr. Adeleke’s concern wasn’t just about the financial side; it was about something deeper. He pointed out the broader issue of preserving local knowledge and the stories these elders carry.
He lamented that the government and those managing these historical sites seemed indifferent to investing in and properly valuing the contributions of older members of the community. “These elders are like living libraries,” he said with a serious tone. “Once they’re gone, so much information will be lost.”
Hearing this, I was struck by the fragility of oral history. It wasn’t just about maintaining monuments or buildings, but about ensuring that the knowledge held by people like Mr. Elias could be passed on and preserved. It made me realize that the past isn’t only held in stones and monuments but also in the memories and words of those who have lived closest to it.
As we listened, it became clear that there were gaps in how these important historical sites were managed and in how local knowledge was valued. Mr. Adeleke’s words left me thinking about how the stories of places like Badagry are not just held in bricks and wood, but in the memories and voices of those who understand them deeply.
When our conversation ended, I couldn’t help but wonder what more could be done to better preserve not just the structures but the narratives they carry. It felt like a reminder that history is not just what’s written or displayed; it’s also what is passed down, spoken, and remembered by those who hold it close.
Leaving the building, we walked down to the British District Commissioner’s Office, passing a track marked with a sign that read “Point of No Return.” It was a chilling reminder of the spot on the marina where, hundreds of years ago, countless enslaved Africans took their final steps on home soil before being taken across the Atlantic. The contrast between the building’s deep spiritual history and the haunting memories of the nearby marina left me reflecting on the layered and complex history of this place.
Badagry Heritage Museum: A Colonial Relic
As we approached the old administrative office once used by the British District Commissioner, I couldn’t help but reflect on how power changed hands in this small town—from the indigenous rulers to the colonial authorities. The building itself seemed heavy with history, its wooden floors creaking under our steps as if echoing the weight of decisions made within its walls. The walls, aged and silent, had witnessed meetings that shaped the future not just of Badagry, but of an entire region.
The office now houses the Badagry Heritage Museum, built in 1863, and each room is like a chapter of a painful and complex story. The first gallery, known as the “Introductory Gallery,” is what greets you at the entrance. A statue of a man breaking free from chains, his face frozen in a moment of “Freedom at Last,” stands as the gallery’s focal point. Nearby, a large book sits open on a table, filled with photographs that capture Nigeria’s early history—images of Badagry’s founders, its rulers, and Nigeria’s past leaders. It was as if these pages, turning softly in the dim light, tried to pull us into their stories.
Moving further into the museum, the exhibits aim to not only reveal the brutality and injustice of the transatlantic slave trade but also celebrate the rich cultural heritage of Africa. The museum is divided into eight distinct galleries, each focusing on a particular theme related to the local heritage and the transatlantic slave trade. Each gallery told its own story, creating a journey through time that left me with a clearer understanding of how deeply the town’s history is interwoven with the history of slavery.
The first gallery gave context to Badagry’s founding and early days, but the following five galleries took a darker turn, exploring different stages of the slave trade. From the initial capture of enslaved individuals, through their grueling transportation, to the harsh realities of their forced labor, each gallery displayed relics that illustrated these brutal chapters—shackles, manacles, and replicas of the cramped conditions aboard slave ships. The exhibits didn’t shy away from the pain; instead, they aimed to bring it into sharp focus.
In the seventh gallery, the museum delves into the forced assimilation of the enslaved into the countries where they were taken. Here, displays of painted reconstructions of slave auctions evoke a haunting reality, vividly capturing the dehumanizing commodification of human lives.
The final gallery shifts to a narrative of resistance and abolition, highlighting the movements that fought against the inhuman system of slavery and acknowledging that even after its legal end, the remnants of that system persisted.
One thing that stood out to me was the museum’s effort to incorporate the voices of local people, acknowledging their connection to these historical events and artifacts. This wasn’t just a story of tragedy; it was a story of resilience. The museum thoughtfully integrated contemporary art pieces, adding modern reflections on enslavement and emphasizing that this history still speaks to the present.
As we left the museum, I couldn’t shake the images and emotions stirred by the visit. Badagry was no longer just a place of old buildings and historical markers. It was a living memory of both unimaginable pain and enduring strength—a reminder that history isn’t confined to textbooks or museums. It lives on, carried in the stories, the symbols, and the spaces we visit, reminding us of where we’ve been and challenging us to understand where we are going.
Whispering Palms Resort: A Needed Respite
After a day filled with deep reflections and heavy history, our last stop at Whispering Palms Resort felt like a breath of fresh air. Nestled along the lagoon, the resort offered a welcome escape from the intensity of all we had learned. We gathered in the car park area to eat and relax, and the soothing backdrop of the water provided a stark contrast to the emotional weight of the day’s lessons.
Inside the spacious resort, a variety of games awaited us, each corner offering its own invitation to unwind and play. A few of us tried their hand at lawn tennis, while others played card games or enjoyed the old swings, even when a sudden rain shower interrupted our fun. Laughter and light-hearted conversations mingled with the patter of rain, creating an atmosphere of relief and camaraderie.
The Management Accountant of Vintage Press Limited, Mr. Babatunde Fagbohun, a native of Badagry, added a special touch to the afternoon. He treated us to a traditional meal of cornmeal and fried fish, paired with spicy, freshly ground pepper and thinly sliced onions. We washed it all down with fresh coconut water he provided as well, its sweetness perfectly balancing the heat of the pepper—a refreshing end to our journey through Nigeria’s layered history.
As we packed up and boarded the bus back to Lagos, I couldn’t help but reflect on all we had experienced. Badagry isn’t just a place preserved in the past; it’s a town where history still breathes, reminding us of the complex, often painful journey our nation has traveled. There’s a duality to this reminder—one that evokes both sorrow and resilience.
Looking out the window as we left, I felt a quiet appreciation for the strength embedded in this place and its people. In their stories, there is a painful acknowledgment of the past, but also a determined embrace of the future. Badagry’s history isn’t just about remembering; it’s about finding meaning and strength in the memories.
