“This is a sprawling slum with more than its fair share of brothels and shacks. This is no place to raise children at all!”, said Tamuno, as he drove through Festac Town’s First Avenue.
“If you ask me, I’d say that Festac should be recognised as the most red-light-friendly estate in Lagos, as churches virtually exist within the bear-hug embrace of brothels,” answered Dike.
Talk of sin and holiness being next-door neighbours!
In saner times, several decades ago, that avenue was labelled ‘Cocaine Avenue’ on account of its exotic buildings which were thought to belong to free spending drug lords. Not surprising, though; opulence and rumour are like bee and nectar.
Idyllic Estate
It was the place to be in the 80s. At the onset, Festac Village, as it was originally known, was easily the most beautiful residential estate in Nigeria, the preferred abode of senior journalists, corporate executives and accomplished sportsmen. The imposing entrance gate seemed to be a visual marker of where the rot of Amuwo-Odofin neighbourhood ended and where the Eden Garden of the new Festival Town began.
Built to host officials and participants at the Second Black and African Arts Festival, Festac 77, it signalled Nigeria’s embrace of the novel idea of gated estates with state-of-the-art facilities.
Constructed in the reclaimed marshes of Amuwo-Odofin, houses within the estate were later sold to the public through a largely transparent process coordinated by the Federal Housing Authority, mirroring the relative innocence of the times. Were the bidding process to be done today, there would be no prizes for guessing that many mothers-in-law and siblings of federal officials, legislators and political quick-fixers would make the final allocation list— more so as payment for the houses was spread over three decades.
Consisting of 5,000 contemporary dwelling units and seven major avenues, the town was designed in an efficient grid in order to accommodate upwards of 45,000 residents. Recognised for its serene ambiance, Festac Town was an appealing choice for families, offering amenities such as reliable utilities, security services, modern markets, dining options, accommodations, and healthcare facilities.
Warning Signs
However, the fact that many of the beneficiaries of the government’s housing programme came from poor neighbourhoods — with their bad habits and poor sanitation — wasn’t helpful at all. Signs that the new residential estate would be subjected to abuse came early enough: clotheslines hanging on open corridors, undergarments flailing in the wind from balconies, garden spaces converted to shops or drinking shacks…
The signs were there all right. Indeed, I recall the ace Guardian cartoonist, Bisi Ogunbadejo, predicting that, given our poor maintenance culture and inability to enforce simple rules of urban habitation, Festac would eventually end up as a slum. That view kicked up a storm. No, Festac would not become another Nigerian nightmare. The estate was too beautiful to be despoiled. Even if some of the residents had migrated with their poor sanitary habits, the ‘civilised environment’ of Festac would rein them in. Alas, the reverse was the case.
The then General Manager of the Federal Housing Authority, Mr Fortune Ebie, has gone down in history as having made spirited efforts to ensure that FESTAC residents respected the rules governing the new estate. Ebie went to the extent of patrolling the streets at night, shutting down peppersoup joints, defying the 9pm curfew and arresting undesirable elements with indeterminate intentions. He must be turning in his grave now that Festac looks largely like a giant rag doll mauled by Rottweilers.
Driving through 5th Avenue, Festac Town, last weekend, one was confronted with a horrid display of what looked like multi-storey IDP camps, complete with happy-go-lucky residents who apparently have got used to their dysfunctional environment and would probably fight against anything that could rescue them from the filth.
Inevitably, the question must be asked: How did a residential estate designed for 45,000 residents wind up with more than 300,000 inhabitants?
Oases
There are a couple of oases of sanity within Festac, such as 403 Road, 40/41 Road and 400 Road. Residents of those three mini-estates have carved out their own fiefdoms, complete with surveillance and security arrangements, from the rest of Festac. In these areas, the gardens and the lawns are well maintained, the street lights are functional, and security men control access at the gate leading into the estate.
But a visitor to this relative Eden still has to pass through the ruins of the larger part of Festac. The roads, in imitation of the unsightly devastation around them, are in a matching state of disrepair. The feeling one gets is that a typhoon recently visited the area.
Following the outcry of Festac residents, Hon. Oyetunde Ojo, the Managing Director/Chief Executive of the Federal Housing Authority (FHA), who are the owners of the estate, said his administration was poised to restore Festac to its lost glory, starting with the rebuilding of the First Gate entrance to the estate on the Lagos-Badagry expressway.
“When I assumed office,” said Ojo, “Festac streets were in total darkness, sanitation was poor, and infrastructure like gates and roads had collapsed. The entrance gate had totally collapsed, the road to First Avenue was impassable, and First, Second and Seventh Avenues were in complete darkness”.
The Chairman of Amuwo-Odofin Local Council, Olanrewaju Sanusi, also announced that his council would soon begin repair works on Seventh Avenue, the road leading to the Trade Fair Complex, while also clearing shanties in Second Avenue, Abule-Ado, Alakija, and other areas.
Restoration
The efforts required to restore Festac to a semblance of a residential estate are massive. Presently, every other house is a market, mall, hotel, nightclub, restaurant, salon, boutique, pharmacy, clinic or some other business concern.
The ‘spirit’ of First Avenue must be shedding tears for its glory days as a section of the hitherto exclusive stretch has become a coven of ill repute which advertises its human cargo to whomsoever it may concern. There is absolutely no subtlety in the low life hustle. All residents are forced to witness the gradual erosion of whatever is left of their claim to decency in an estate advertised in 1978 as the dream residential abode in Lagos. Now, it has become a nest for all sorts of strange elements including, sadly, cybercriminals.
According to Associated Press, Festac Town hosts an entire community of scammers moonlighting on the Internet. By day, they flaunt their smart clothes and cars and hang around the Internet cafes, trading stories about successful cons and near misses, and hatching new plots. The estate also harbours communication specialists who sell foreign telephone lines over which a scammer can purport to be calling from any city in the world. In addition, there are master forgers and purveyors of such software as “e-mail extractors,” which can harvest e-mail addresses by the million.
Here, then, is a blinking warning to gated residential estates all over Nigeria. The story of Festac’s ‘villagification’ is told not to disparage Lagos but to serve as a warning to estates all over Nigeria. Festac regressed from being a new town to a village cast in concrete and swimming in sewage.
The message: Don’t ever permit your estate to be ‘Festacified’! The prayer: May Festac never happen to your neighbourhood.
