This article is part of FT Globetrotter’s guide to Lagos
Don’t tell strangers the truth because caution is currency here. This is the first lesson Lagos teaches you. If a random stranger asks who you are and where you’re from, it’s best to fabricate the details, if you must respond at all.
But Lagos also teaches you a counter-lesson: don’t take its prescriptions too seriously. Unlike most major cities, where caution is likewise the first instruction, Lagos invites you to challenge what you think you know. Its truth is that there is no singular truth. Its nature is kaleidoscopic, constantly shifting depending on who’s looking, and from which angle.
So, despite this initial warning, I’ll share who I am and where I’m from in relation to Lagos — or rather, where I am not from. I am not originally from Lekki, the Lagos neighbourhood I’m now encouraging you to visit. But it’s this very outsider perspective that allows me to appreciate Lekki in a way that I hope will make my suggestions compelling.
Let me first give you some context. Lagos is a city split into two parts: the mainland and the island. They’re often treated as entirely different worlds — sometimes even different planets — and the differences between them are real. Geographically, the two are divided by the Lagos Lagoon and the Atlantic Ocean. The island is coastal, flat and highly urbanised, while the mainland is more varied, with green spaces and less development. Though the mainland is almost 20 times larger than the island, the latter holds the economic power — it’s the city’s affluent, commercially vibrant heart, while the mainland is more modest and less wealthy. Yet what truly separates the island from the mainland is not geography or size, it’s something intangible: authenticity.
Authenticity, in the context of a city, is a slippery concept. What one person considers authentic may seem contrived to another. At its core, though, authenticity implies a connection to an original essence. In this sense, the mainland is profoundly authentic. It’s where you can still catch glimpses of the west African region as it’s always been — organic, earthy, and deeply cultural. The mainland is alive with small businesses that have operated the same way for generations, coexisting with factories, superstores, military bases. It’s a place of contrasts, a surrealist painting that somehow makes sense. I know it intimately because I’m from the mainland. It shaped me into the person I am today.
The island, by contrast, has a more flamboyant and flashy air. Developed by Nigeria’s colonial masters to suit their lifestyles, the relics of this past have mostly faded, but it still enjoys a certain privilege over the mainland, and an accompanying flavour of pretentiousness. This voguish atmosphere is so ingrained in the island’s sense of self that it is genuine in its own way. But it would be a stretch to say the island is authentic in the sense of a historical African lifestyle. Until Lekki.
Lekki is part of the island but carries the authenticity of the mainland. Stretching for kilometres along the Lagos coastline, Lekki constitutes a substantial portion of the city’s land area and combines the island’s glossy life with the mainland’s freer, everyday feel. This is the allure of Lekki, and why you should visit. It can be as extravagant as its neighbouring districts — Ikoyi and Victoria Island — but it also maintains the unpretentious character of the mainland.
When I say “Until Lekki”, as though Lekki happened by chance, it’s no exaggeration. Major development in the area began only in the 1980s, with the construction of the Lekki-Epe Expressway. Before that, the Lekki Peninsula was home to the indigenous Awori people — farmers, fishermen and traders who lived in harmony with the land. I first visited Lekki as a teenager in the mid-1990s, when my father took me to see the plot where we would build our family home. I remember standing on the grounds of the house where I now stay when I visit, looking out at an empty horizon. Had I not seen it myself, I’d find it hard to believe that this reverberating, vibrant area was until fairly recently a large stretch of undeveloped land.
The best place to feel the unique vibe of Lekki is Fola Osibo Road, right at the heart of the area. Be prepared for Lagos-style shopping, which requires patience (and a good night’s sleep before tackling the traffic). But the effort is worth it. Fola Osibo is home to everything from affordable Nigerian fashion brands like Iconola to lifestyle stores such as Ariába. Many shops along this strip are housed in what were once residential buildings, adding an intimate, sometimes almost too personal feel to the shopping experience.
For a Zen escape after shopping, visit the DEW Centre on Adebayo Doherty Road. This wellness sanctuary offers blissful massages, yoga classes and a peaceful environment to relax in. The centre includes a lovely café, a charming shop and a flourishing garden, making it the perfect place to recharge.
Lekki has expanded so much since the 1980s that it’s now divided into phases — Lekki 1, Lekki 2, and Lekki 3. Lekki Phase 1 is home to the area’s most sought-after spots and is one of the most expensive parts of Lagos. Lekki 2 is worth a visit among other things for its serene Lekki Conservation Centre. It immerses visitors in the region’s diverse wildlife, and if you’re feeling adventurous, climb the canopy walkway that offers stunning views of the wetlands and mangroves. Don’t forget to greet the resident tortoise!
Also nearby is Nike Art Gallery, west Africa’s largest art gallery, run by feminist icon Nike Davies-Okundaye. Known as “Mama Nike”, she is a captivating conversationalist, and if you’re lucky, she may be there to share her insights. Lekki Arts and Crafts Market is another must-visit where you’ll find everything from jewellery to paintings to furniture — I’ve discovered stunning antiques and gemstones there at bargain prices.
If you’re willing to venture to Lekki’s outer edges, stay at La Campagne Tropicana Beach Resort and visit the pristine beauty of Eleko Beach. Alternatively, return to Lekki 1 and check out 22b Lagos on Olawale Cole Onitiri Avenue. It’s an eclectic space hosting both private and public events — which are not regularly advertised, but an exhibition there is certainly worth your time.
In his satirical piece “How to Write About Africa”, Kenyan author Binyavanga Wainaina famously mocked the clichés often used by western writers about the continent, including the ubiquitous image of “the African sunset.” But I want to reclaim that sunset — without the clichés — because it’s truly spectacular, especially when experienced from one of Lekki’s many waterfront bars, such as the famed Sailors Lounge on Admiralty Road. Enjoy live music alongside your meal (try the barbecue fish), sip on an Orijin (a bittersweet alcoholic beverage that ticks all the “authentic” boxes) and watch the sunset unfold in all its magnificent hues.
Alternatively, stop by Terraform restaurant on Wole Olateju Crescent, my favourite spot in Lekki. The crowd here is composed of self-assured yet laid-back locals — modern, hard-working, hard-partying too, and effortlessly cool. The atmosphere is simultaneously hip and welcoming, perfectly reflecting Lekki: young, evolving and unapologetically itself.
Minna Salami is a senior fellow and research chair at The New Institute. She is the author of “Can Feminism Be African?” (HarperCollins) and the blog MsAfropolitan.com
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