Fear and loathing in Ikosi

UNESCO Courier, June, 1999 by Amy Otchet

An attempt to destroy a fruit market highlights the mutual suspicion between government and people who have no choice but to take matters into their own hands

A corpse lies among rotting vegetables in the street of Ikosi, the largest fruit and vegetable market in Lagos. The killing took place the day before, on April 15, when bulldozers were sent in by the local government to level the market. Barefoot, wearing shorts and a T-shirt emblazoned with the name of American basketball player Michael Jordan, the dead man remains anonymous, probably just another migrant worker at the market where 12,000 people scratched a living. Black cloth covers his face - the sole act of kindness his coworkers can bestow. Only the local government can remove a cadaver but officials don't dare enter Ikosi.

Normally, the market would buzz with lorries dropping pineapples, plantain and yams beside the labyrinth of ramshackle shops, stalls and tables. Now a putrid mix of rotting fruit, tear gas and tension hangs in the air a day after the local government chairman, Mrs. Thorpe, ordered a private contractor to demolish Ikosi, which she considered a fire-trap and a magnet for crime. She maintains that she had the full support of Ikosi's trade union representatives.

Sevi Taiwo is one of those leaders. "We built this place by ourselves," says Mrs Taiwo, who has worked at Ikosi for 30 years. Mrs. Taiwo claims that she met with the local government several times to discuss ways of improving the market's sanitary conditions. She feared that plans to raze and rebuild Ikosi would result in rental fees beyond the reach of the current occupants. Her voice went unheard.

On the morning of April 15, police ordered people to leave as the bulldozer headed for the first shop. The owner pleaded with them to stop but the police kicked and shot his 24-year-old assistant, Bob. As the bulldozer moved on, crowds threw stones and police fired tear gas and bullets. But the marketers kept coming and the police fled. Emboldened by the retreat, the crowd set fire to the bulldozer.

Within an hour, the police returned with reinforcements. "People weren't even fighting, just running as the police fired at them," says Mutia Akintae, a student passing by. "As I ran, I felt my clothes burning." Acid had been thrown on his chest and face, giving rise to speculation that "area boys", bands of unemployed men, had been brought in to intensify the havoc.

In the immediate aftermath, the marketers estimate that up to several dozens of people were killed and a quarter of the shops destroyed. The trade union officials are in hiding, widely suspected of colluding with the government. Women clear the debris, while men patrol for looters. Meanwhile, the elders seek the support of the oba, the area's traditional king.

The 97-year-old oba is indisposed. Besides, says his secretary, Prince Jede Rokosu, the king's authority extends only over spiritual matters. "I have heard of people being killed at Ikosi," says Rokosu, "but I have not seen anything." Would the prince or the king come to see Ikosi and to consult the elders? "That would not be appropriate." If the people came to the king, could he present their concerns to the government? "Events have overtaken that possibility," says the prince.

Two mornings after the confrontation, a human rights activist is brought to Ikosi for consultation. Under an overhang, women sweep the ground and arrange benches as a crowd gathers. A prayer for peace is offered by Chief Bamiro, an unofficial leader, before discussions turn to Nwaogbe's offer to file a court injunction.

Gradually, a new dynamic takes hold in Ikosi. When the bulldozers first arrived, the marketers were prepared to die rather than see their livelihoods destroyed. But in the aftermath, there is a clear consensus that bravery alone won't prevent another attack. The next step in survival requires organization. So after consulting their people, the elders decide to propose to the government that if the authorities provide specific guidelines for a new Ikosi, the people will build it on their own.

Despite the new resolve, tension is still high with fears of another police attack. Tires smoulder at the front of the market but deeper inside bunches of plantain and bags of millet are on display as children hawk water and music blares from a barber shop. The dead man still lies in the street but Ikosi takes a deep breath.