Sanwo-Olu steps into Mushin-Olosan streets as Lagos confronts its waste reality
On a humid Saturday morning at Olosan Bus Stop in Mushin, the usual rush slowed for a different kind of activity. Traders paused. Commuters watched. In the middle of it
- By Precious Igbonwelundu
On a humid Saturday morning at Olosan Bus Stop in Mushin, the usual rush slowed for a different kind of activity. Traders paused. Commuters watched. In the middle of it all, Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu bent slightly, broom in hand, sweeping a stretch of road alongside residents and street cleaners.
There was nothing grand about the moment. No long speeches. Just a governor, his deputy Dr. Obafemi Hamzat, and a few officials working through dust and refuse with the people who deal with it every day. For many who gathered, it felt familiar. It also felt long overdue.
That morning, the state government confirmed what many had been hearing in bits. Lagos is bringing back the monthly environmental sanitation exercise.
A familiar ritual returns
For older residents, the announcement stirred memories of a time when the last Saturday of every month came with a shared routine. Streets went quiet. Homes opened up. People swept, cleared drains, and tidied their surroundings before the city returned to its usual pace.
That structure faded in 2016 after a court ruling stopped the restriction of movement during sanitation hours. Over time, the habit weakened. What remained was an uneven effort, with some communities sticking with the habit and many others simply moving on.
Sanwo-Olu said the state was now trying to rebuild that culture without breaking the law. The sanitation exercise will hold every last Saturday of the month between 6:30am and 8:30am. People will still be free to move around, but the expectation is clear. Clean your space.
“It used to be a collective civic responsibility. We are bringing back that sense of shared duty," said the governor.
Why the Monthly Sanitation matters
To understand why this matters, one must look beyond the symbolism of a governor sweeping a road. Lagos is not just a city. It is a megacity with more than 20 million residents, growing at a pace that constantly stretches its infrastructure.
Every day, the city generates about 13,000 tonnes of waste. Much of it comes from households, markets, street trading, and small businesses that power the local economy. But collection systems do not keep up. Only about 40 percent of this waste is formally collected, and a much smaller portion is recycled.
The rest often found their way into drains, canals, and open spaces exacerbating flooding challenges including damaged homes, and disrupted livelihoods, when it rains.
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This anomaly also increases the exposure of residents to diseases linked to poor sanitation like cholera, Lassa Fever, typhoid fever, among others
The challenge is not new. In fact, Lagos has been dealing with sanitation issues for over a century. Early municipal structures, such as the Lagos Town Council established in 1917, were largely focused on sanitation and public health. Yet, the scale of today’s problem is different. Population growth, urban expansion, and consumption patterns have changed the nature of waste itself.
Plastic, for instance, has become one of the most visible threats. Lagos produces enormous volumes of plastic waste, much of which ends up clogging waterways and contributing to flooding.
The need for change is hard to miss across the state. In some areas, refuse piles sit for days along busy roads while gutters are choked with plastic and debris, waiting for the rains that will push the waste back into homes and streets.
Markets produce large volumes of waste daily, but disposal is not always handled properly. Some households still dump refuse in open spaces or drainage channels, often at night.
The result is a cycle many residents know too well. Dirty streets, blocked drains, flooding, and the health risks that follow.
In Mushin that morning, a shop owner who joined the clean-up said the problem is not just government failure. “People wait for LAWMA and forget that this is their environment too,” he said, pausing to clear a gutter.
That tension sits at the heart of the new push. Government can provide systems, but behaviour determines whether those systems work.
Government’s part
The Ministry of the Environment and Water Resources is leading the effort. Commissioner Tokunbo Wahab said the sanitation exercise was not just about appearances. It is about health and the kind of city Lagos wants to be.
“The re-introduction of the monthly sanitation is a bold step towards improving the wellbeing of residents. We want a clean and sustainable environment for everyone," he said.
He explained that residents were expected to clean their homes, the areas in front of their houses, and nearby drains, while officials of the Lagos Waste Management Authority (LAWMA) would be on hand to collect and dispose of waste.
At the same time, the government is making it clear that this will not be left to goodwill alone. Environmental laws are still in place, and enforcement will follow where necessary.
Beyond policy
Yet, even officials admit that laws and agencies can only go so far. Lagos is too large, too busy, and too complex for any single institution to keep it clean without public cooperation.
What is being asked of residents is simple in theory but difficult in practice. Pay attention to your surroundings. Dispose of waste properly. Do not wait for enforcement before doing the right thing.
Wahab put it plainly. “Residents must take ownership of their environment and imbibe the culture of neatness.”
For many Lagosians, that culture is not entirely new. It has just been neglected.
Leadership in the open
Sanwo-Olu’s decision to join the clean-up, even briefly, was not lost on those who watched. In a city where leadership often feels distant, the image of a governor sweeping a roadside carries weight.
But symbolism has limits. The real test will come after the cameras are gone, when residents return to their routines and the temptation to ignore waste management returns.
One resident at the scene summed it up quietly. “If we only clean when the governor comes, then nothing will change.”
The harder question
The return of monthly sanitation raises a bigger issue. Can Lagos sustain cleanliness beyond a two-hour window once a month?
For the exercise to matter, it has to become more than a date on the calendar. It has to reflect in daily habits. How people dispose of waste. How markets manage refuse. How communities hold themselves accountable.
The government can nudge, enforce, and provide support. But the city’s condition will ultimately reflect the choices of the millions who live in it.
A city at a crossroads
Lagos is growing fast. Its population is rising. Its streets are busier than ever. With that growth comes pressure on infrastructure, including waste management systems. The return of the sanitation exercise is, in many ways, a response to that pressure. It is an attempt to reconnect the city with a practice that once worked, even if imperfectly.
Back in Mushin, as the morning wound down, the streets looked cleaner and lighter. For a moment, it was easy to imagine what Lagos could look like if such effort became routine.
But as traffic gradually returned and traders reopened their shops, the question lingered.
Will this be another announcement that fades with time, or the start of a habit the city holds on to?
Analysts believe the answer will not come from government alone. It will come from everyday decisions made in homes, markets, and streets across Lagos, and perhaps, from how many people are willing to pick up a broom when no one is watching.
