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ON Monday, at 10.00 am, a lanky butcher picks his teeth in a stream of blood. His name is Taofeeq and he reeks of dung. His brown shirt drips with the blood of over 50 cows and his boots are smeared in gore and fecal mess of cow cadavers. The spatter of red masks his frame like splattered timestamps; grisly reminder of his vocation’s gothic rites.

“This morning, I have killed 50 cows. I am very fast. I can slit a cow’s throat and hack it to pieces in 10 minutes; limbs, offal and meat,” he says, kicking languidly at a rat nibbling on his merchandise: a bloody heap of cow tail, chopped brain and intestines.

The rat falls into an open sewer beside his slab; visibly rattled, it darts into a hole in the wall of the sewer, just in time to escape Taofeeq’s second strike.

“Were yii ma ba oja je fun mi, meaning: This mad rodent will ruin my merchandise,” he says, skimming the expanse for prospective customers.

It is Taofeeq’s eighth year as a butcher and meat dealer at the Oko-Oba Abattoir and Lairage, Agege, Lagos; and “very few butchers here understand the business and lay of the land. I do,” he says, wading through animal gore and filth to the centre of his slaughter slab.

The blood on Taofeeq’s frame would elicit gasps and sharp yelps in another part of town. But amid the killing fields of the Oko Oba abattoir, his chilling frame pales to grislier forms.

“You get bloodier while cutting up cows. But you get used to it. My target is a 100 cows today,” he enthuses, in a tenor that suggests he dreads that the hours may pass quicker than before. If he falls behind his target, his day’s exploits may resound like failure.

“Every hour counts. When you’ve been here for a long while, you will understand that,” says Taofeeq, drawing the horn of an obstinate cow with equivalent force.

He thrusts his knife into the cow’s neck, slitting its throat in a deft stir that swishes like a stab. The dying animal kicks and wheezes in a final, gasp, beneath the stern glare and grasp of its slaughterer.

In a moment, the slab is caked in silence. Then with astonishing fierceness, Taofeeq hacks into the cow cadaver, like a street brawler decapitating fearsome adversary. The aggression from butcher to cow, man to animal, and the acquiescence of lifeless beast to sharp axe, resonates beyond the slab, melding with the din of the blood-clad slaughterhouse.

Across the expanse of the abattoir, men decapitate cattle with consummate ferocity. Nothing is spared: horns, bone, offal, skin, animal blood and dung, are destined for distinct uses.

In the racket of heavy axes, machetes and knives, precision is key. A rhythm arises.

The slaughter house mists with heat, animal gore and dung; and the air swarms with stench and missiles of flying bone fragments, innards and blood spatter.

None of the butchers and other abattoir workers adhere to slaughterhouse rules. None of  them are putting on gloves, dedicated uniform or overall to distinguish and protect them according to task. They do not care about protecting the meat either. Thus cows are slaughtered and processed in the blood, intestinal waste and dung of previous slaughters.

Very few of the workers have rubber boots on their feet, many of them are in bathroom slippers and other flimsy soles while an even more daring breed wade barefoot in the sea of blood, dung and bone fragments.

Besides the insanitary meat processing culture, butchers carry meat on their backs and head from the slaughter slabs to the meat counters or point of sale in the abattoir’s retail section.

 

Butchers bathing on meat

Few paces from the slaughter slabs, several butchers and herd boys take their bath in the open, with water spilling from an overhead tank. As they do, spatters of grime, soap, animal blood and dung cleansed from their bodies, splash on displayed merchandise of cow tail, hide and intestines placed two paces from their open bath.

The women tending the wares are hardly bothered that the goods meant for human consumption are being bathed upon and polluted by bad soap wash.

Within the expanse, Adenike inhales the dank, putrid air, as the sun douses in an early drizzle. She is expecting retailers, the ones with deep pockets. “Three of my customers have called me. They will be here soon. They are food sellers in Orile and Dopemu Agege. They have been patronising me since I started work here seven years ago,” she says.

The meat seller sees nothing wrong with goings-on in the abattoir. “Nobody can just change it for us just like that (change the way business is done)…Things are better this way. It’s faster to kill animals in the open slabs. The customers can come and pick their choice. They can also see the transparent way we do business here,” she says.

 

Dangerous trade in sick and dead cattle

Amid the bustle of blood and frantic commerce, three herd boys wheel a sickly cow at frenzied pace, towards the abattoir’s crowded slabs. They dodge  teeming human traffic as they hasten to beat two other carts bearing very sick cows ahead, to the slabs.

They do not wish to wait turns after the two crews in front, lest their cow dies before it is fed to the knife. They would like to pronounce ‘Bismillah’ on the sickly animal before its throat is slit. “It must not die before it gets to the slabs. If it dies before it is killed, it’s processed meat will never be considered halal (approved or sanctified meat). It  becomes haram (forbidden)  meat,” says Mahmud, a butcher.

Statistics shows that about 6,000 cattle are slaughtered  across Lagos daily. About 1, 200 of the figure are slaughtered in the Oko Oba Abattoir and Lairage, which is arguably the biggest slaughter house in the country and one of the biggest in Africa.

However, of the 1, 200 cows killed and processed in the abattoir, about 200 are wheeled to the slab severely bruised, diseased or dead. Thus about 150 sickly cows and 50 dead cows are killed daily in the abattoir. Findings revealed that at least 15 out of every 100 cows slaughtered at the abattoir are unhealthy while five of every 100 cows are wheeled to the slabs as cadaver.

At the Oko Oba abattoir, dead cattle are sold at paltry price. “The price often ranges between N10, 000 and N28, 000 depending on its size. On the other hand, sick cattle may be sold to unsuspecting consumers at normal price.

“That is why some customers come to the market with intermediaries conversant with the business. The latter are able to identify sick or diseased cows and guide their clients to make the right choice,” says Rasheeda, who  processes “saki” and other cow innards at the abattoir.

But streetwise customers purchase such diseased animals at a steal. They could purchase a cow that should sell between N250, 000 and N350, 000 for as low as N30, 000 to N80, 000, depending on the severity of its ailment and their bargaining skills. Ignorant buyers however, suffer the misfortune of buying a sick cow at the price of a healthy cow, says Akinde, a butcher and meat dealer.

“Usually, the suya sellers purchase the dead cows. This is because it’s cheaper to acquire. Many of them also look out for the sick cows. Sometimes, four of five of them may contribute to purchase an unhealthy cow at cheaper rate. They buy it and divide it among themselves. Many of such dead or diseased cows are used to make the suya that Lagosians eat,” he reveals.

Notwithstanding the burgeoning trade in dead and unhealthy cows, the rule at the abattoir is that such cattle should be cut and burnt, according to the butchers.

With an estimated 19 million cattle heads, the Federal Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development revealed that Nigerians consume about 360,000 tonnes of beef yearly. This conservative figure is projected to rise to 1.3 million tonnes per year by 2050, some 260 per cent increase. But how safe is the meat we eat?

The Veterinary Council of Nigeria (VCN) has warned that many Nigerians might be consuming meat that could be dangerous to their health, given the unhealthy state of abattoirs in the country.

The Registrar of the council, Dr. Marcus Avong, recently disclosed that there were only three standard abattoirs in Nigeria, located in Lagos, Borno and Nassarawa states thus implying that only three standard abattoirs serve over 170 million Nigerians.

According to a recent media report that Lagos has a population of about 21 million, according to the National Population Commission (NPC) 2014 figures, about four million in Borno State and two million in Nassarawa State, the addition of these figures give 27 million, which implies that only 27 million Nigerians (about 16 per cent of the total population) have access to standard meat, while about 143 million Nigerians (representing about 84 per cent) access meat that may be injurious to their health.

The Nation’s investigations in Lagos, Calabar, Abuja, Enugu and other parts of the country however, reveal that meat accessed in the states’ presumably decent abattoirs might not be safe for consumption after all.

Despite Lagos government’s spirited efforts to institute a culture of hygiene and enforce standard regulations across the state’s abattoirs, the Oko Oba slaughterhouse which is the biggest in the state and the country, pulses in extreme lack of standards in operations, poor hygiene and lack of necessary tools and equipment for butchers and health workers.

Successive visits to the abattoir revealed unethical practices. There were no health officers on site to conduct ante-mortem and postmortem checks on cattle to ascertain if they were fit for human consumption.

Findings at the abattoir revealed a daily routine that fosters harmful practices that medical practitioners fear could endanger lives in Lagos city.

At the Nkonib-Unity Slaughter Market, Ndidem Usang  Ext. Nkonib (Ikot Ansa) in Calabar, Cross River State, the situation isn’t different. Although the number of cows slaughtered daily in the abattoir is markedly smaller than what is obtainable in the Lagos abattoir, cattle are slaughtered and processed in filthy conditions at the slaughterhouse.

While some consumers stroll in to the abattoir’s decrepit expanse to purchase meat from wooden counters, many more troop to the slaughter slabs to have their pick of the processed cattle meat.

Prince Charles Etim, chairman of the butchers and abattoir workers, has been in the business for 20 years. But the slaughter house and market where he presides is two years old. “I run the abattoir in partnership with owners of the land, the Nkonib Ikot Ansa. My company, Unity Slaughter does business with them,” he says.

Etim bemoans the poor facilities in the abattoir and dearth of investment opportunities and support from the government. “We want greater access to loans so we can travel out and get more cattle. We can also use such loans to improve the facilities in this place,”  he says.

Far from the Nkonib-Unity Slaughter Market, Nasarrawa Abattoir deals with similar problems. Emmanuel Umoh, chairman of the abattoir’s butcher’s union, laments declining business and the dearth of standard facilities in the slaughterhouse. He says business has become more fragmented leading to dwindling returns because the number of abattoirs in Calabar has grown from three big abattoirs to 15 substandard abattoirs.

“About 20, years ago, during my first tenure as chairman of this abattoir, we bought cows between N10, 000 and N20, 000; now, we buy one cow at the price of 15 or 20 cows, with each cow selling between N250, 000 and N350, 000,” he says.

Umoh worries about the abattoirs’ inadequate facilities and he is particularly bothered by the widening gorge, caused by erosion, eating into the expanse of the abattoir. “We need government intervention here in order to improve the condition of this place,” says Umoh.

The Nation’s visit to Yanyan Abattoir in Abuja, Federal Capital Territory (FCT) also reveals unsanitary meat processing activities by the abattoir workers. Cattle are slaughtered on dirty, crowded slabs and cow innards and skin are dragged through filth and blood pools to sale blocks after being washed in mucky water.

At the Ikpoba slope abattoir in Edo state, animals are slaughtered on foul slabs and washed in fetid open drainage. The Owerri Municipal abattoirs in Imo state also constitutes a health hazard. At the modern abattoir in the city, widely known as Somachi Slaughter House, an average of 30 cattle are killed daily. There are no health inspectors or vet doctors to conduct ante-mortem and postmortem examination on slaughtered cattle. Animals are decapitated and eviscerated on grimy slabs and burning and skinning commences immediately afterwards.

At the Maiduguri Main Abattoir in Borno state, most butchers and prospective buyers walk barefoot within the slaughter slabs. Only a small fraction of the abattoir workers and visitors wear slippers and rubber shoes.

Those who sustain injuries from knife wounds or bruises while struggling with obstinate cattle on the slabs, use torn polythene or nylon strips as bandage on their wounds, and they are often seen carrying meat on their backs and heads instead of using pans. Their work clothes are dirty and unwashed with accumulated debris from daily slaughtering activities. Besides, butchers wash their hands in dirty water, in the crevices on the killing floor of the abattoir.

There is no gainsaying that the country’s abattoir operations contravene best practices and global health standards. Besides poor meat processing methods, many of the abattoirs operate with open drainages that are often clogged with debris and maggots.

Most butchers are poor and have not received occupational training and because there is usually no compensation if bad meat is condemned, butchers react strongly and aggressively resist condemnation of diseased cattle and unwholesome meat, according to vets and health inspectors.

Several abattoir workers engage in unhygienic practices which directly put consumers of meat at risk. For example, it is common practice among butchers in Ibadan, Oyo state, to sprinkle fresh blood on old meat or dip large chunks of stale meat in fresh blood to make it appear fresh.

Also, in desperate bid to pass off diseased cattle as healthy animals, butchers puncture small holes in the body of the cattle and pump water into them thus making them look bloated and well fed.

Slaughterhouses in the country are also major sources of water and air pollution as they often discharge their effluent directly into streams or land which drains into surface and underground water.

The Nation’s findings in the country’s major abattoirs reveal gross and unchecked discharge of entire blood and gastrointestinal contents of slaughtered animals into nearby streams, rivers clogged, open drainages and surface soil.

For instance, residents of Ladoje and Oko Oba neighbourhoods of Agege, host to Nigeria’s largest abattoir, complain of polluted waters and a powerful stench.

“We find it difficult to breathe most times. Imagine waking up to a foul morning air and knowing the stench will stay with you throughout the day. Life here is hellish for most of us,” said Bisi Akamo, a retired civil servant.

Besides the stench emanating from the abattoir, ante-mortem and post-mortem inspections are hardly carried out on slaughtered cattle even as they are slaughtered and eviscerated in the open with carcasses processed on bare floor. Abattoir workers drag slaughtered cattle viscera through pooled blood, dung and intestinal wastes on the floor and animal innards are washed in abattoir drainages.

Butchers also slaughter calves and pregnant cows in flagrant disregard for regulations banning such practice.

 

Too much beef, unfit for export

According to the Director of Veterinary Services in the Enugu State Ministry of Agriculture, Dr. Emmanuel Onyeka, Nigeria has not been able to export its meat to other countries because the World Trade Organisation is not satisfied with the standard of meat processed in Nigeria.

Onyeka, who is also a veterinary doctor, has however called for a national meat law, which he said would make the WTO to allow Nigeria to export processed meat. He noted that such law, if enacted, would promote meat inspection and hygiene.

“I feel we need to have a national law on meat inspection and hygiene, which would improve ours to international standard so that our meat will qualify and the WTO will allow us to export our meats to foreign countries because with the standards we have in Nigeria now, we cannot export our meat. So, we need to upgrade the level of meat inspection and meat hygiene by having a national law.”

He also described abattoirs in the country as an eyesore, saying the way the meat is also being conveyed to the market is unhygienic as it exposes the meat to flies and other insects within the markets.

Public health expert, Dr. Babatunde Odusolu, argues that the current state of Nigerian abattoirs are unacceptable. “Contamination of meat from the slaughtered animal by microorganisms can occur when the meat gets contact with contents of the gastro-intestinal tract, equipment and utensils,  workers garments and hands, the abattoir itself (e.g. air, floor drains, water drip from ceiling),” he says.

At the backdrop of the unpalatable situation, very few state governments across the country are making efforts to improve facilities in state abattoirs and reinvent their meat processing culture. For instance, the Anambra state governor, Willie Obiano, recently directed the State Commissioner for Health, Josephat Akabuike, to embark on comprehensive rehabilitation and standardisation of the state’s abattoirs soon after the latter renounced meat diet claiming: “It is suicidal to eat meat coming out from the dirty abattoirs.”

And while Nasarrawa State embarks upon similar renovation and standardisation drive, the Lagos state government ups its ante of similar enterprise. While Tunbosun Ogunbanwo, spokesperson of the state’s Ministry of Agriculture declines comment on the parlous state of the Oko Oba abattoir

Recently, the state’s Commissioner for Agriculture, Oluwatoyin Suarau, inaugurated an enforcement unit, in order to “develop, restructure and sanitise abattoirs and slaughter slabs in the state for improved operations and promote a healthy environment for red meat business.”

In February, the unit commenced its operation with the clampdown on illegal abattoirs, slaughter slabs and cattle markets in Ikorodu and Badagry areas, with the arrest of 24 butchers and cattle marketers. Processed meat and live cattle were also impounded during the raid.

According to the commissioner; “Ten butchers were arrested from illegal abattoirs by the enforcement team in Owutu, Ikorodu, while 14 butchers and marketers were arrested in the Badagry axis. The operation in the Badagry axis, affected illegal slaughter slabs at Seme J5 Zongo, Iya Afin and Ajara; and illegal animal markets at Iberekodo, Limka and tollgate.”

And in bid to guarantee effective abattoir management, Lagos state “trained over 400 butchers and live cattle dealers, drawn from various parts of the state in February on current trends in abattoir management.”

In the wake of these efforts, the state claims that beef sourced from state-accredited abattoirs, like the Oko Oba Abattoir and Lairage, are safe for food.

However, The Nation’s  investigation reveals otherwise. Findings from successive visits to the state’s largest abattoir reveals that Lagosians consuming beef may be at risk of zoonotic infections. These are deadly diseases transmissible from animals to man through consumption.

The state government has exhibited great resolve to renovate the structure no doubt. But despite the new machines and slaughter slabs, filth remains a recurrent feature of the expansive slaughter house.

Filth remains a permanent feature of Lagos’ biggest slaughter house. Within its expanse, cultures clash on several fronts: hygiene against muck, butchers against animals, meat traders against consumers, who spill across its expanse every morning.

Spatially, and in outward simulation of a theatre round, butchers huddle per task; each cluster immersing in specificity of craft that unfolds like vistas of an eerie theatre.

Cattle cadaver simmer in cauldrons of fetid water atop open grates, knives hiss noisily against whetstones and skin of shaved animals. The muscles of young, veteran butchers ripple through sullied clothes as they hack through bones and horns of fresh slaughter, decorating the expanse like the gory scene of a battlefield massacre.

The clutter of motions and dissonance of noises render Africa’s biggest abattoir perhaps, visually encrusted and aurally dense, like a painter’s intricate collage of Nigeria’s food chain dystopia.