The ocean eats our land, Ilaje communities cry out

The ocean eats our land, Ilaje communities cry out ooyegbile

The Sea Eats Our Lands/Here stood our ancestral home:/ The crumbling wall marks the spot – Kwesi Brew

When Ghanaian poet Kwesi Brew wrote his famous poem The Sea Eats Our Land, many years ago, he may not have known of Ayetoro, an Ilaje community in Ondo State. But 58 years after its publication, Brews’s poem speaks so loudly to the plight of Ayetoro and other coastal communities in the state.

In the last few years, the Ayetoro story has been told many times. The community’s battle against a violent ocean surge that is gradually wiping off the land, easily pops up after a simple online search. But seeing the crisis up close is different.

The journey to Ayetoro begins at Ugbo Nla, where speedboat operators line the banks of the ocean like buses at a motor park. A first-time visitor can be shocked at the casual way they sit at the edge of their boats. They are so casual that one wonders why they are not afraid of the billowing waves knocking the boats against one another. But the boat operators appear unfazed. While fare negotiations are ongoing, you size up the vast view of the ocean and wonder how the ‘rickety’ speedboats would brave an ocean storm.

Negotiations over, your team starts boarding. You suddenly recall that you cannot swim, and the risks of a boat ride unsettles you. You reconsider why, with a family at home, you decided to join the trip. However, seeing your smiling colleagues confidently stepping into the boat, you summon courage and ask to be assisted aboard. But with your first step in, a gust of wind sends the boats crashing one into another again and you almost change your mind. At that point one of your colleagues stretches out his hands to assist. You oblige, find a spot, and sit gingerly in silent prayers.

Boarding complete and with the boat revving, you point out that no live jackets have been provided. The boat driver casually dismisses it as unnecessary. But the leader of the Corporate Accountability and Public Participation Africa (CAPPA) team, Associate Director Mr Olamide Ogunlade, would have none of it. Ogunlade, who doubles as head of the Climate Desk, said it was a corporate decision of the organization that no such trips should be embarked upon without provision of all safety valves. After some delay, live jackets were provided. As the boat sped off for the about fifteen minutes ride, many thoughts fleeted through this reporter’s mind.

‘The source of our income and of our destruction’

It was not this reporter’s first trip to Ayetoro. About a decade earlier, he had visited the community. However, the spectacle that confronted him and the team was devastating.

Ayetoro has shrunk dramatically; what was once a vibrant community, now looks rustic and desolate, like a conquered town. Not by any war but by environmental damage and acute neglect by successive governments. As we walk through the remaining parts of the town to the palace, we are confronted by a forlorn-looking populace who gaze with some sort of hope at every visitor, hoping they bear good news of governments’ readiness to come to their rescue from the violent and consuming ocean.

The entire town lies desolate and laden with plastic and other bric-a-brac washed ashore and deposited along its streets by the ocean waves. It is like a city ravaged by war, environmental war – a devastation that has left it without farmlands or recreational facilities. Fishing that had hitherto been the livewire of the community has been wiped off by the ocean surge.

The most devastating spectacle is the town’s massive but now almost submerged palace.

Once located at the centre of Ayetoro, the three-story building now stands precariously at the edge of the sea, with waves pounding against its walls. The ground floor has been completely buried and is no longer habitable. About 38 of the 45 streets that once served as a buffer around it have been swallowed by the sea.

At the waiting room on the first floor where the monarch, His Royal Highness Oba Oluwambe Ojagbohunmi (JP), the Ogeloyinbo of Ayetoro, received the CAPPA team, the sound of waves striking the building almost overshadowed his voice.

“The Atlantic Ocean, which is the source of our income has become the source of our destruction,” he said, in an emotion-laden voice. “Our entire community has been facing serious environmental disaster occasioned by high level sea rise and coastal erosion.

“It’s been 20 years that the sea had been encroaching and the people of the community have been writing letters and making passionate appeals that we are experiencing serious environmental challenges. The sea has been coming at an alarming rate towards the residential areas of the community; we have written series of letters, we have contracted the services of experts to do soil analysis and environmental assessment of the community and they have released a comprehensive book for the community warning that disaster was coming. This was since 2003; we have been facing these challenges. On a yearly basis we have been losing at least 50 buildings to the ocean surge. The palace as it stands today is under threat of being swept off and overcome by the ocean.”

According to the monarch, in May 2026, an ocean surge marooned the palace from the rest of the community. He and his family were held hostage for days until community members constructed a wooden ladder with which they climbed into the palace and rescued them. Today, the palace entrance and exits are completely under water.

He lamented the community’s neglect by successive governments despite the vast oil deposits from the area.

Ayetoro is Nigeria’s first and only communist settlement. It was founded years ago as a model community on the coast where members shared things in common. However, the vagaries of development and civilization have consigned that to the past as it struggles with existential vicissitudes.

“It is unfortunate that all the labours of the founding fathers of this community who founded an exemplary community in West Africa that had the highest per capita income and industries that catered for the welfare of the people so much so that everyone in the community was employed by the community, all of these industries have been destroyed,” Oba Ojagbohunmi lamented.

“We have lost over 600 houses; all the industries have been wiped out. There used to be 45 streets in the community, we are only left with about seven! What is left of the community now are just kitchens that serve as a smoking centre for our fishing industry. My people have become refugees in their own town.”

The palace had in the past served as a shelter for displaced persons in the community. It was partitioned to serve as a camp for the elderly when the ocean swallowed over seventy percent of the buildings in the town. According to Oba Ojagbohunmi, “As a community we are expressing our fear and disappointment in government. We participate in elections and pay taxes. In fact, as at the last election and with this devastation, we still had the highest vote in the whole of these coastal areas of over 100 communities.” He is disappointed that despite al their efforts and civic responsibilities the governments at all levels have refused to hearken to their plights.

Communal efforts – concrete embankments and other remedial measures devised to tame the ocean – failed.

The community then tried to adapt. Buildings and other property were relocated inwards time and time again as the ocean invaded. The community’s two government-owned schools – Community Primary School and Happy City College – relocated four times in 10 years. They are now at the bank of a river on the community’s northernmost border.

The monarch spotlighted the community’s needs: “Construction of embankment is what we seek from the government, we call on the state government if they don’t have enough resources as they have claimed, there should be a synergy of purpose of political will to call on the federal government for assistance, they should show seriousness with the federal government,” he said.

Reflecting on the monarch’s comment, Ogunlade said, “Ayetoro continues to envy its past. During our last visit last year, about 12 streets remained out of 40. We could access the palace from the main entrance and still walk on normal land. Now, all of those are gone. The palace is effectively confined, forcing a “sit-at-home” order on the King, his immediate family, and other residents who have resorted to the palace as their haven. The situation is now worse, to the point where only about five to seven streets remain. Schools are being relocated because of the tides, while waterborne and airborne diseases are on the increase.”

On August 12, 2026, residents of about 20 Ilaje coastal communities marched from Igbokoda to the palace and then to the headquarters of the Ilaje Local Government Area to present their grievances.

The local government secretariat was shut. It was unclear whether the gates had been deliberately closed to the protesters or whether flooding had affected the facility. Nearby, an abandoned police station had already been overtaken by water.

The protesters, operating under the Coalition of Ilaje Ravaged Communities with advocacy support from CAPPA, demanded urgent shoreline protection, including sea walls, groynes and other measures to protect their communities.

They came from Ayetoro, Awoye, Mese, Gbagira, Jiringho, Ilowo, Ilepete, Idiogba, Oroto, Alagbon, Erunona, and Olotu. Others came from Yaye, Womitenren, Ogboti, Lepe, Ehinmore, Abetobo, Odun-Oyinbo and Abereke.

According to the coalition, the advancing ocean has destroyed hundreds of homes, schools, places of worship, health facilities, fishing grounds, factories and other community infrastructure.

General Coordinator of the coalition, Comrade Akingboye Thompson, said the crisis could no longer be treated as a routine environmental problem.

“The Ilaje coastal communities are facing an existential threat,” he said. “The Atlantic Ocean is swallowing our land from the sea, and poor drainage is drowning our headquarters from within.”

He described affected residents as “climate refugees in their own country”.

The communities also called for a modern drainage system in Igbokoda, the local government headquarters, which they said remains vulnerable to recurrent flooding during the rainy season.

Among those affected are people who came to Ayetoro from other parts of Nigeria and have made the community their home.

Garba Adamu, from Kebbi State, has lived in Ayetoro for 13 years. He said the town was once large and accommodating.

“In the last few years, the ocean has been consuming large portions of the land, thus making life tougher and the land smaller for us to trade and live,” he said.

Garba Maisamari, who arrived from Sokoto State in 1993 as a trader, said he found his home in the community despite being a Muslim in a Christian dominated community. He lamented that the ocean surge had made business increasingly difficult.

“I arrived this community as a trader of provisions. However, today I am a transporter. The ocean surge has made the town smaller and very hard to survive in and do business. Many people have left but I am still here because I believe Allah will help the community to overcome the challenges. The town has been reduced to one fifth of its original size that I met it when I came. This is unfortunate,” Maisamari added.

“When I came here 13 years ago, the town was a beehive,” another resident, Ahmadu Hamza from Zamfara State, said. “But now it has become a ghost of itself.”

Yet these residents remain reluctant to abandon Ayetoro.

Mamuda Abdullahi, from Niger State, said he had lived in the community for seven years and regarded its residents as one family despite their different religious backgrounds.

“Businesses here are almost at a standstill now. When I came here 13 years ago, the town was a beehive, but now it has become a ghost of itself because of the devastating activities of the sea. All the lands have also been submerged and eaten by the sea. This is unfortunate. I can’t leave now because I am already part of the town. Ayetoro is home to me,” Abdullahi said.

That sense of belonging makes the erosion of Ayetoro even more painful.

The Ilaje communities have made their demands. They want governments at all levels to treat the situation as an emergency and intervene before more communities disappear.

For Ogunlade, a climate expert, government must combine conventional engineering with local knowledge to protect vulnerable shorelines. He said embankments and sea defences could help slow the loss of land if properly designed and implemented.

He also expressed frustration that repeated appeals, official visits and promises had produced little tangible action. According to him, Ayetoro and other affected communities were mentioned in the Federal Budget in the previous year, but residents had yet to see concrete intervention.

The communities now face a difficult question: How long do they have to wait before the fury?

Standing in what remains of Ayetoro, Kwesi Brew’s words take on an unsettling immediacy: “Here stood our ancestral home.”

For the people of Ayetoro and other Ilaje communities, that is not poetry. It is a warning. The question is whether government will act before there is nothing left to save.

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