A trip to Igbologun community, located on Snake Island, Lagos, can
be scary. The town has a population of over 20,000 people. A two-day
visit by Sunday Vanguard to the community was an eye opener.
The journey began from Coconut Bus Stop to the quayside during a
downpour. It was followed by a N100 boat ride with 14 other passengers.
But in the middle of the restless ocean, the engine coughed and went
off, setting off panic among the passengers. The boat was in danger of
tipping over as the passengers shifted about, several of them thinking
the end had come, but the driver and a few level-headed passengers
appealed for calm.
During several attempts to restart the engine, a boat loaded with
sachet water passed by, also on its way to Igbologun while a canoe, with
a lone female occupant, equally sailed by.
Finally, the driver brought the engine back to life and the journey
continued. As passengers disembarked at the destination, the reporter
was accosted by two young boys of about 12 and 16. They were there to
help offload passengers’ luggage from the boat for a fee.
Commercial motorcycle riders (Okada) also swarmed around the
passengers. Welcome to Igbologun, a community made up of different
tribes, cultures and religions. It was gathered that Snake Island, on
which the community sits, derived its name from the (snaky) way it
appears on the map, contrary to the belief that it is so called because
of the large population of snakes there.
Snake Island has so much beach sand such that, as you walk, your
legs sink in and it is as if you’re being pulled back. Interestingly,
the hugely populated island, situated in the heart of Apapa, is under
Amuwo-Odofin Local Government Area.
Despite being so close to the hub of trade and commerce, and all
its modernity, what would seem like another shocking discovery, for a
first-time visitor, is how typically rural the island remains.
Igbologun, despite a history of existence that precedes even the
Nigerian nation, is dying for government attention for the provision of
basic social amenities like schools, standard hospitals, tarred roads,
potable water, stable power, standard market place and means of waste
disposal, among others.
The first impressionable building to behold is Igbologun Senior
Secondary School. Close to it is a police post that offers the community
the only source of drinking water and it is about 30 minutes-walk into
the heart of the community. Trooping out were young and old women
carrying trays of all sorts laden with wares of smoked fish (Egun
Fish).
Young children were also hawking. A striking feature that
immediately becomes apparent across the community is the high number of
pregnant teenage girls. This reporter soon gathered that even though
pregnant, majority of the girls are not registered for ante natal care,
mainly as a result of financial constraint and cultural beliefs.
Findings showed that there is a sense of laxity that enables these
young girls engage in sexual activities. The development is essentially
fuelled by the high level of poverty in the community. Many of the girls
are lured with money by the young men who are boat drivers or Okada
operators.
“Most of these guys you see riding Okada or driving boat have
more than three girlfriends each because they make quick money from
their businesses and live like kings in the community,” said Mr. Jude.
Further investigation revealed that whenever a pregnant woman in
the community goes into labour, particularly at mid-night, they are
usually in a dilemma. This is due to the inability to afford to register
in a standard hospital, and for those who could afford it, reaching the
centre at mid-night is a tug of war while obstetric complication that
may require surgery is out of the question.
The result is that many pregnant women and newborns often lose
their lives. The only Primary Healthcare Centre in Igbologun is defunct.
Sunday Vanguard encountered some men who had sad tales to tell. David
lost his wife during childbirth.
Emeka, who lives in Mama P compound in the community, also lost his
wife along with a set of twins while Daramola lost his wife and is left
to bring up their baby alone. What the three men have in common is that
their wives fell into labour at night.
Bolanle, David’s wife, 27, may have been alive today to experience
the joy of motherhood, but her dream was cut short because she found
herself at Igbologun. Bolanle’s desire to give life led her to the great
beyond. She fell into labour in the middle of the night.
“When she went into labour in the middle of the night, we
already knew there was a problem. Her mother called for help, but there
was little anyone could do because there was no means of conveying her
to the other side of the lagoon for medical attention”, said Mr. Gbenga Sosanya, a neighbour.
“Prior to her delivery time, Bolanle registered for antenatal
at Tolu Hospital in Ajegunle, but no boat could convey her there in the
night. She and her baby died after several hours of labour in the hands
of traditional birth attendants”.
Pointing to the spot where Bolanle was buried, Sosanya said that
the trauma forced her parents to leave the community. He hinted that
several of such cases were recorded in the community until few years
ago, when someone set up a small private hospital.
“The only Primary Healthcare Centre in the community can simply
be described as an empty building because there are no doctors or
nurses and, most of the time, it is locked.”
Click here to read the full interview on Vanguard.
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