Homelessness: The Menace Next Door

Femi Akintunde-Johnson

The nightmare of homelessness in Nigeria’s urban centres is no longer the stuff of whispered inconveniences. It stares us in the face at traffic stops, slithers past us in the form of children begging at night, and lounges in broad daylight under the bridges of Ikeja, Obalende, Oshodi, Ojuelegba, and their ilk. Entire communities have sprouted in the shadows of these concrete overpasses – societies within a society, with their own rules, elders, and survival tactics. In Obalende, there is “Karkashin Gada”, a settlement that sounds like the title of a Nollywood blockbuster but is, in reality, a graveyard of broken dreams.

 Liya’u Sa’adu, a 60-year-old veteran of this underworld, has lived beneath the bridge for nearly three decades. Originally from Zamfara, he came to Lagos in search of fortune but found himself trapped in an endless cycle of hardship. He now serves as an unofficial guide for newcomers, showing them where to sleep, how to avoid police raids, and, most importantly, how to beg with just the right mix of humility and aggression. These men are not criminals. They are the human debris left in the wake of a failing economy, government indifference, and the impossible cost of living.

Why do they come to Lagos in the first place? The same reason thousands have migrated to cities across the globe for centuries – hope. The rural parts of Nigeria remain locked in a medieval struggle against poverty, poor infrastructure, and limited economic opportunities. But Lagos, with its glowing billboards and fast-paced energy, sells a dream. No one warns them that the dream is reserved for the privileged, and they will likely end up sleeping on newspapers under a bridge, waiting for the next task force sweep to disrupt their meagre existence.

And what has the government done? Ah, the Nigerian approach to homelessness is as predictable as harmattan dust – raze the slums, destroy the shanties, fine the beggars, and move on. No one stops to ask what happens to the displaced. Once in a while, a governor with a fondness for Western models will promise “low-cost housing” or “skill acquisition programmes,” but we all know how that story ends – half-built estates overrun by weeds, budgets siphoned into private pockets, and a fresh round of official excuses.

Meanwhile, the world outside our borders has also been grappling with homelessness, and while they have not found perfect solutions, they at least acknowledge that human dignity should be protected.

In the United States, homelessness is a persistent crisis, but there are structured interventions. Cities like Houston have made significant strides by adopting the “Housing First” model – providing permanent housing without preconditions. New York runs an extensive shelter system where families with children are guaranteed accommodation. Of course, the U.S. still has over 600,000 homeless individuals, with places like California struggling against soaring property prices, but at least the authorities attempt long-term solutions rather than mere demolitions.

The United Kingdom, despite its welfare state, still battles homelessness, particularly in London. However, local councils are legally required to provide emergency housing for eligible individuals. Charities like Crisis and Shelter work alongside the government, ensuring people do not simply fall through the cracks. Compare this to Nigeria, where even the “lucky” ones who get evicted from slums are left to fend for themselves with no alternative provisions.

Germany and Japan, two nations with vastly different cultural approaches, have also tackled homelessness with varying success. Germany has robust social welfare programmes that prevent many from becoming destitute, and the government funds transitional housing projects. Japan, ever the meticulous planner, has used employment reintegration policies and temporary housing measures to keep its homeless population remarkably low. Tokyo, a city of nearly 14 million people, has fewer than 5,000 rough sleepers – a fraction of what we see sprawled across Lagos daily.

Meanwhile, in Russia, the brutal winter ensures that homelessness is a life-or-death situation. The government operates shelters and temporary hostels, but economic instability has driven many to the fringes. China, with its rapid urbanisation, has faced a growing homeless problem, particularly among rural migrants. While Beijing and Shanghai have government-funded hostels, there is still a culture of “invisibility” surrounding homelessness – much like in Nigeria, where the authorities would rather not acknowledge the scale of the issue.

India and Brazil present a reality that hits closer to home – massive populations, widespread poverty, and urban centres struggling under the weight of rural migration. In Mumbai, thousands live on the streets, yet the government has made efforts to build night shelters. Brazil, after decades of favelas mushrooming across major cities, has developed social housing policies like “Minha Casa Minha Vida”, which provides subsidised homes for low-income families. They are still a long way from solving the problem, but at least they recognise that sweeping people off the streets is not a strategy.

So why, in a country as wealthy as Nigeria (at least on paper), do we refuse to even take the first step toward meaningful reform? Why is our approach always brute force and not sustainable policy? We cannot keep treating the homeless like weeds in a garden – uprooting them with no thought for where they will regrow.

The solutions are neither radical nor impossible. First, we need transit shelters in major cities – safe spaces where the homeless can get temporary accommodation, healthcare, and social services. These should not be seen as charity but as investments in public health and security. Second, a real low-cost housing scheme must be implemented, with proper oversight to prevent the usual corruption. This could be achieved through public-private partnerships aimed at constructing low-cost units. Third, economic empowerment programmes must be designed for those on the streets – job training, micro-loans for small businesses, and reintegration schemes. Fourth, rural development must be prioritised to reduce the influx of desperate individuals to urban centres. By improving infrastructure and creating opportunities in rural areas, the pressure on cities like Lagos can be alleviated.

 Furthermore, community support services play a crucial role. Establishing centres that offer counseling, healthcare, and rehabilitation can assist individuals in transitioning out of homelessness. Public awareness campaigns are also vital to foster empathy and encourage collective action.

 In conclusion, the sight of individuals living under bridges should not be an accepted facet of urban life in Nigeria. It is a clarion call for immediate and compassionate action. By implementing comprehensive and sustainable strategies, we can address the root causes of homelessness and work towards a society where everyone has a place to call home.

 And finally, our government must develop a conscience. Instead of treating poverty as a crime, leaders should realise that a society is only as strong as its weakest members. When a nation fails to protect its most vulnerable, it is not just the homeless who suffer – it is everyone. The bridges of Lagos should be monuments of progress, not graveyards of broken dreams.