Why Lagos Can't Ignore Waste Any Longer

A City in Transition: Lagos Faces the Challenge of Waste Management
Lagos, one of the most densely populated cities in the world, is a city of constant movement and transformation. However, with its rapid growth comes an urgent challenge: managing waste effectively. The city’s sprawling infrastructure, combined with its population of over 20 million people, makes waste management not just an environmental issue but a test of governance. Every overflowing bin, clogged drainage system, and littered street reflects the state of leadership and public responsibility.
The Lagos State Government has recognized this challenge and is taking significant steps to address it. One such move is the procurement of 100 new CNG-powered compactor trucks as part of a 10-year waste management development plan. This initiative is more than a routine upgrade; it represents a shift in mindset towards sustainable and structured waste management. It deserves serious attention and reflection from both policymakers and citizens alike.
At a recent media engagement, Muyiwa Gbadegesin, Managing Director of the Lagos Waste Management Authority (LAWMA), emphasized that Lagos cannot remain clean through improvisation. As a megacity, it requires scale, structure, and sustained effort. Waste, by its very nature, is heavy and voluminous. It cannot be ignored or left to accumulate. Once this reality is accepted, waste management becomes a complex logistical challenge intertwined with scientific, environmental, and behavioral considerations.
In Lagos, the challenges are compounded by both structural and behavioral factors. The city operates under a Private Sector Participation (PSP) model, involving around 450 operators, while households are expected to pay monthly waste collection fees. These fees vary significantly, ranging from about ₦1,000 in some areas to ₦20,000 and above in places like Banana Island. While the system seems straightforward—residents pay for waste to be collected and disposed of safely—the reality is far more complicated.
Compliance remains the biggest hurdle. Many residents question why they should pay for waste collection when they can simply dump their trash elsewhere. This mindset, more than the lack of trucks or bins, lies at the heart of the city's waste crisis. From a social and behavioral science perspective, waste is often seen as something without value. When people perceive waste as useless, they tend to discard it irresponsibly.
Ironically, long-term residents of Lagos often display less appreciation for the value of waste than migrants from northern Nigeria or neighboring countries. In fact, there are an estimated 3,000 informal waste pickers in the city who earn a living by collecting recyclable materials. Their work highlights a crucial truth: waste is not rubbish—it is raw material.
What Lagos needs is not only more trucks but a fundamental shift in perception. Waste has economic value, and if properly managed, it can become wealth. Plastics, paper, cardboard, and metals all have market value. In some regions, recycled paper is even more expensive than virgin paper. Metals, especially, tell a compelling story of value.
Historically, abandoned vehicles littered Lagos in the late 1990s. By the mid-2000s, scrap dealers began collecting these materials, leading to a thriving recycling industry. Today, scrap metal is so valuable that railings are stolen for resale. Aluminum cans are rarely discarded because people recognize their worth. This change in behavior was driven by the visibility of value.
LAWMA’s projection that Lagos needs about 2,000 compactor trucks, with 1,000 for daily operations and another 1,000 as backup, makes sense given the scale of the challenge. The plan to introduce 100 CNG trucks in 2026, followed by 200 to 250 annually, signals long-term thinking in public service. Equally important is the proposed statewide enumeration and automated billing system, which aims to formalize household data, ensure proper billing, and verify service delivery before paying PSP operators.
This approach addresses a key issue: trust. Residents are willing to pay for services, but they are unwilling to pay for failure. The termination of 22 underperforming PSP operators in 2025 is a clear signal that inefficiency will no longer be tolerated. Waste management is not charity; it is a service with clear expectations.
The planned rollout of 500 mobile compactor tricycles by mid-2026 also reflects an understanding of Lagos’ physical reality. Many communities are inaccessible to large trucks due to narrow roads and informal layouts. Pilot schemes in areas like Ibeju-Lekki have shown that smaller, flexible solutions can work—and even create structured employment opportunities for local cart pushers.
Indiscriminate waste dumping has far-reaching consequences beyond just visual pollution. It increases costs, harms ecosystems, and negatively impacts communities near dumpsites. One such site near a major hospital and a nursing school had to be shut down due to public health concerns, creating short-term disposal challenges elsewhere.
This experience underscores a critical truth: waste must stop growing unchecked. Lagos’ geography further complicates this issue. With 22% of its area covered by water and a high groundwater table, the feasibility of new landfill sites is severely limited. Sustainable waste management is not just a goal—it is an unavoidable necessity.
About 90% of what Lagosians throw away has economic value. If sorted at source, collected efficiently, and channeled into existing recycling industries, waste can become wealth. Experts estimate that Lagos’ waste economy could be worth up to $2.5 billion if properly harnessed. This is not theoretical—it is a survival strategy.
LAWMA’s vision—cleaner trucks, smarter billing, stricter enforcement, and a decisive shift toward recycling—offers Lagos a narrow but real path forward. However, no policy can succeed without behavioral change. Governments must deliver reliable services, citizens must comply, and operators must perform.
Cleaning Lagos is no longer optional. It is a defining test of whether Africa’s largest city can match its ambition with discipline and whether it is finally ready to treat waste not as a burden, but as an opportunity.
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