In the quiet, coastal expanse of Badagry West, a local controversy has ignited a heated debate over culture, law, and identity — one that cuts to the very heart of Lagos State’s delicate ethnic balance. What began as a seemingly benign effort to build a “palace” for the Igbo community in Badagry West Local Council Development Area (LCDA) has now become a flashpoint between the principles of inclusion and the limits of legality.
At the center of the storm is the so-called “Eze Ndi-Igbo Palace Project”, a venture recently halted by the Badagry West LCDA authorities after investigations revealed that it was being promoted under the auspices of an unrecognized traditional title — Eze Ndi-Igbo of Badagry West. The project, which had already begun soliciting public donations and raising funds through letters issued in the name of the Ohaneze Ndi-Igbo Traditional Ruling Council, was swiftly declared illegal and contrary to Lagos State’s Obas and Chiefs Law.
In a strongly worded statement signed by Mesewaku M. Stephen, Esq., the Head of Legal Services Unit of the Badagry West LCDA, the council announced that all activities related to the unauthorized project had been suspended with immediate effect. The legal unit stated that the so-called title “Eze Ndi-Igbo” has no recognition under Lagos State law and therefore has no authority, legitimacy, or traditional standing within the state.
The development has sent ripples across the region — reviving an old debate over the use of the title “Eze Ndi-Igbo” in Lagos and other southwestern states. For decades, the Lagos State government has maintained a strict stance against any parallel traditional structures not recognized under the Obas and Chiefs Law, viewing them as potential sources of confusion and ethnic division.
The council’s statement emphasized this principle in unmistakable terms: “While the Council recognises and appreciates the positive influence of the Igbo community in Badagry West LCDA, it will not allow any act or title that is alien to the laws of Lagos State to take root. Anything not known to law remains an illegality.”
Behind this terse legal phrasing lies a complex intersection of culture, politics, and community identity. The Igbo people, one of Nigeria’s most widely dispersed ethnic groups, have long established vibrant communities in virtually every part of Lagos. In places like Ojo, Amuwo-Odofin, and Badagry, they form significant portions of the population, contributing to commerce, education, and local development. Many of these communities organize themselves under cultural associations and town unions — sometimes adopting traditional structures reminiscent of their ancestral hometowns in the Southeast.
However, the attempt to replicate traditional monarchies — by installing “Eze Ndi-Igbo” (King of the Igbos) in Lagos jurisdictions — has repeatedly clashed with the state’s chieftaincy laws, which only recognize indigenous Yoruba royal institutions such as the Obas, Baales, and officially gazetted chiefs.
The Executive Chairman of Badagry West LCDA, Hon. Rauf Ibrahim Kayode Yemaren (RIKAY), was unequivocal in his response. In a statement quoted by the council, Yemaren reaffirmed that while his administration encourages ethnic harmony and appreciates the Igbos’ contributions, such recognition must not cross the boundary of legality or undermine existing traditional authorities.
“We do not oppose having a community leader among the Igbos to coordinate their social and administrative affairs,” he clarified. “But such leadership must not be styled in a way that contradicts the chieftaincy laws or undermines the authority of recognized royal fathers — the Alapa of Apa Kingdom and the Akweno of Kweme Kingdom.”
The chairman’s reference to these two local monarchs was not coincidental. The Alapa of Apa Kingdom and the Akweno of Kweme Kingdom are the two constitutionally and traditionally recognized royal fathers in the Badagry West axis. By invoking their authority, Yemaren was underscoring the legal hierarchy of traditional leadership in the area — one which the Lagos State Government guards jealously as part of its political and cultural fabric.
Sources within the council revealed that the controversy began when letters began circulating across Badagry and surrounding communities soliciting financial contributions toward what was described as the construction of a “new palace” for the Eze Ndi-Igbo of Badagry West LCDA. The letters, purportedly issued by the Ohaneze Ndi-Igbo Traditional Ruling Council, carried official-looking seals and signatures, prompting several individuals to report the matter to the LCDA office.
“When we saw the letter, it looked authentic,” one local business owner in Ajido told reporters. “They said it was for the development of the Igbo community, and that the palace would serve as a cultural center. But we were surprised because no such position exists officially here.”
Upon investigation, the council’s legal unit determined that the Ohaneze Ndi-Igbo Traditional Ruling Council mentioned in the letter had no formal registration or recognition under the Lagos State Chieftaincy framework. Moreover, the Eze Ndi-Igbo title itself was deemed “unknown to law,” making any associated activities — including fundraising for a palace — unauthorized and therefore illegal.
To forestall further escalation, the council swiftly issued a suspension order, directing that all construction work, fundraising, or public campaigns related to the project cease immediately. The order was formally communicated not only to the alleged promoters of the palace project but also to key local and security stakeholders — including the Alapa of Apa Kingdom, the Akweno of Kweme Kingdom, the Area Commander of Nigeria Police, Area K Command, and the Divisional Police Officer (DPO) of Seme Division.
This immediate escalation to both traditional and security authorities signals how seriously the council viewed the situation. “Once an unrecognized chieftaincy structure begins to emerge, it can lead to disputes, rival claims, and even communal tension,” said one senior council official familiar with the case. “We cannot wait for that to happen before acting.”
The council also issued a public advisory warning residents to disregard any correspondence, fundraising effort, or publicity related to the Eze Ndi-Igbo Palace Project. The statement urged anyone who had received donation requests to report them to the LCDA or law enforcement agencies.
Beyond the immediate legal and administrative steps, the incident has rekindled a broader conversation about ethnic representation and cultural integration in Lagos — a state often described as Nigeria’s melting pot. Over the decades, Lagos has attracted millions of residents from across the country, particularly from the Southeast and South-South regions. While this diversity has fueled the state’s economic dynamism, it has also occasionally sparked tensions over traditional authority and recognition.
The title Eze Ndi-Igbo, which translates roughly to “King of the Igbos,” has long been a source of contention in Lagos politics. Although several Igbo communities have installed local cultural leaders under that title, the Lagos State Government has consistently resisted formal recognition of any such position, arguing that it contravenes the Obas and Chiefs Law. This law provides a strict framework for the recognition, installation, and hierarchy of traditional rulers and prohibits the creation of new chieftaincy titles without government approval.
In past years, similar disputes have erupted in other parts of Lagos — notably in Ojo, Amuwo-Odofin, and Alimosho — where local councils moved to halt or invalidate the installation of self-styled Eze Ndi-Igbo. In each case, the government has cited the same legal principle: while community leadership is encouraged, traditional rulership structures must not replicate or compete with indigenous royal institutions.
Cultural analysts say the persistence of this issue reflects deeper questions about belonging and identity in cosmopolitan Lagos. “The Igbo community in Lagos feels a strong desire for representation,” explains Dr. Uche Nwankwo, a sociologist and expert in inter-ethnic relations at the University of Lagos. “But the concept of an Eze Ndi-Igbo outside Igboland creates a legal and political contradiction because Lagos already has established monarchies. What is needed is not another throne, but a framework for cultural inclusion that respects local laws.”
Indeed, even within the Igbo community itself, opinions are divided. Some argue that having a cultural leader — even without formal government recognition — helps preserve Igbo identity and cohesion in the diaspora. Others, however, caution that using royal titles such as Eze (king) can cause unnecessary friction with host communities.
In Badagry West, where inter-ethnic relations have historically been peaceful, local leaders appear determined to prevent any such tension. Chairman Yemaren described the LCDA as “one of the most peaceful and ethnically accommodating councils in Lagos State,” noting that this harmony is built on mutual respect and adherence to the rule of law.
“Badagry is home to everyone,” he said. “Our people — Yoruba, Igbo, Egun, Hausa — have lived together peacefully for generations. That peace is based on respect for law and for one another. We will not allow anything, however well-intentioned, to undermine that balance.”
His position aligns with Lagos State’s broader multicultural policy, which emphasizes integration over separation. Under Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu, the state has expanded ethnic liaison offices and community relations programs designed to strengthen ties between Lagos’ diverse populations. However, the policy has remained firm on chieftaincy matters: only indigenous Yoruba royal houses recognized by the state are permitted to bear traditional titles with territorial jurisdiction.
The Badagry West incident has thus become another reminder of how easily local initiatives can collide with state law — particularly in a state as legally complex and ethnically diverse as Lagos. It also highlights the delicate role local councils play in maintaining cultural harmony while enforcing statutory boundaries.
For now, the Eze Ndi-Igbo Palace Project remains frozen. The cleared land where the palace’s foundation was reportedly being laid now lies deserted, with building materials quietly removed under the supervision of council officials. The once-circulating fundraising letters have disappeared from community boards and WhatsApp groups, replaced by the council’s official warning circular.
Whether the promoters of the project will face further sanctions remains unclear, but sources within the LCDA suggest that the council is prioritizing peaceful resolution over prosecution — provided there is full compliance with the stop order. “We don’t want to criminalize cultural expression,” one official said. “But the law must be respected. You can’t build a palace for a title that does not exist under the law.”
As the controversy gradually cools, it leaves behind a larger question about how Nigeria’s cities — increasingly diverse and cosmopolitan — can balance cultural pluralism with legal uniformity. In Badagry West, that balance has been momentarily restored, but the underlying tension between tradition and modern governance lingers, waiting for another test.
For now, one message rings clear from the council chambers of Badagry West LCDA: tradition may evolve, communities may thrive, but the rule of law remains the ultimate king.
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