Iya Akeem arrived in Ajah three months ago with a skill that could feed a family and a hope that the city would make room for her.
She is one of the best Ghana-weaving braiders on her stretch of the Lekki-Ajah corridor, working from a roadside salon: four plastic chairs, a mirror nailed to a plank, product bought with money saved through years of apprenticeship. It is her liberation. It is also one heavy rainfall from being washed into the gutter.
Her husband, Baba Akeem, is a mechanic near the expressway. On dry days, their combined earnings cover rent, school fees, food. On flooded days, the workshop becomes an island, customers stay home, and the arithmetic of survival tightens. A day lost to flooding is not just a day without income; it is a debt that compounds, because rent doesn’t pause and the children still need to eat.
Multiply this
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