LEFT BEHIND IN THE MUD
G.OLORUNLOGBON gives a vivid account of infrastructural despair in Oke Ogbe, Badagry, Lagos
While the Lagos State Government frequently broadcasts its plans for mega-city infrastructure and sweeping coastal highways, a completely different reality exists for the residents of the Oke Ogbe community in the Olorunda LCDA of Badagry. Here, time seems to have stood still. As a resident who wakes up every morning to navigate this treacherous terrain, I can attest that the state of the 2.9-kilometre Oke Ogbe Link Road is no longer just a public works failure—it is an economic and humanitarian crisis.
Originally awarded for construction over a decade ago under the Fashola administration, the road was supposed to take a mere six months to complete. Instead, it has been abandoned to the elements. Today, what should be a vital artery connecting 14 communities to the Badagry Expressway is a graveyard of stagnant floodwaters, aggressive weed growth, and decaying concrete blocks. To escape this isolation, our community was forced to build a makeshift wooden bridge across a swamp—a fragile lifeline that serves as our only gateway to the outside world.
The economic toll of this isolation is staggering and wide-reaching. Oke Ogbe is no longer just a village of farmers and fishermen; it has grown into a bustling community housing civil servants, corporate professionals, traders, and skilled artisans who must commute daily to various parts of Lagos. But how do you sustain a career or a business when commercial vehicles refuse to ply your road? Private car owners face constant, expensive mechanical breakdowns from the terrain, while others must rely on motorcycle operators who hike fares exorbitantly just to brave the mud. From the farmer watching produce rot to the professional arriving at the office covered in mud, the economic life of every single resident is being systematically drained.
Beyond the economic strain, this infrastructure failure has turned Oke Ogbe into a death trap. The community has no hospitals, and our only local health center is a ghost of a facility—hardly functional and almost always locked. When medical emergencies strike, pregnant women in labour and critically ill children are forced to brave the same flooded, treacherous terrain to access quality healthcare outside the community. Avoidable deaths have become a tragic norm here simply because ambulances and vehicles cannot get in, and residents cannot get out in time. Just recently, our community was thrown into mourning when a man lost his balance, toppled over the fragile wooden barrier of our makeshift bridge, and drowned in the swamp before he could be rescued. This is no longer just about inconvenience; our lives are being cut short by negligence.
The crisis extends heavily to our children, whose education has become a logistical nightmare. Compounding the disaster of the road is a glaring systemic failure: Oke Ogbe has no government public school. This leaves parents with few, painful options. Those who can afford the extra financial burden enroll their children in local private schools within the community. However, families who cannot afford private tuition are left at the mercy of the elements. Their children must either trek to the government school in Ipara or other neighboring areas.
Right now, with heavy rains submerging the area, secondary school students are forced to wade through hip-deep, trash-filled, stagnant water just to link up with the Lagos-Badagry Expressway. Others risk their safety daily crossing over our slippery, makeshift wooden bridge to reach schools outside the community. They arrive at their classrooms soaked, exhausted, and exposed to severe health hazards like waterborne diseases. For many families, spending over N1,500 daily on transport in this harsh economic climate is a breaking point, forcing many parents to keep their children at home entirely during peak flooding.
What makes this situation deeply painful is the bitter irony of our political relevance. During election seasons, politicians and party officials suddenly find their way into Oke Ogbe. They brave the very mud they refuse to fix, flashing smiles, making grand promises, and soliciting our votes. We are treated as a vital electorate when ballots need to be cast. Yet, as soon as the election cycles end and power is secured, the gates shut. The promises evaporate, and we are immediately relegated to a forgotten village, abandoned to survive the swamp on our own until the next political season approaches.
In late 2023, officials from the Lagos State Office of Rural Development visited Oke-Ogbe to assess our infrastructure deficits and promised solutions under the T.H.E.M.E.S Plus Agenda. Years have passed since that visit, yet the road remains exactly as it was: a muddy, watery trap for our children and professionals alike.
We are not asking for luxuries; we are asking for basic accessibility to save our livelihoods and protect our children’s future. We urgently appeal to Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu to mobilize contractors back to the Atura Junction link road. Fixing the Oke Ogbe road is the only way to unlock the massive economic potential of this corridor and restore dignity to a forgotten community.
Olorunlogbon is a resident and professional living in the Oke Ogbe community, Badagry