Peter B. Ogbobine Esq
Omo to the Gen Zs, ewoo to the baby boomers, and shuoo to the Warri boy — exclamations of surprise usually reserved for the truly unexpected. The rains that swept the plains on Sunday, 28th June 2026, drew exactly these reactions. Such exclamations are normally fleeting, fading soon after the initial shock. That was what Lagosians expected this time too, even though the flooding that followed caused billions in property damage and left roads impassable. But Lagosians are among the most resilient people anywhere. They rolled up their sleeves, bailed water from their homes and offices, and got back to the daily grind of living in Lagos. It was over. Or so they thought.
In their usual ” Eko o’ ni baje” spirit and happy-go-lucky attitude, Lagosians forgot to consult the national rain doctor, the Nigerian Meteorological Agency (NiMET). As the Book of Proverbs 22.23 wisely reminds us, ” The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty”. Unfortunately, in Lagos, even the prudent sometimes discover that there is nowhere dry enough to take refuge. Had they done so, they would have learned that the forecast for late June through early August 2026 was rain for breakfast, more rain for lunch, and the heaviest rain in the evening, with intermittent showers overnight — leaving Lagosians to sleep with one eye on the weather, hoping for a little respite.
My own attitude toward heavy rain was shaped growing up in Warri. If my parents were out, a torrential downpour meant a game of rain ball, complete with sliding, dribbling, and possibly skipping school for the day. If they were home, or if there was somewhere we needed to be, it was time for a chorus of “Rain, rain, go away, come again another day, little Johnny wants to play” (I was Little Johnny, even though my name is different). When the rain stopped, our young minds credited it entirely to the magic of the rhyme.
Had Lagosians consulted NiMET, they would have realised that even that rhyme’s presumed magic would not have saved Lagos. No way — Lagos is not Warri. The heavy rains and flooding would still have come, and they did. What Lagosians needed most was the steady faith (God dey) they are known for, along with a fair number of sizeable Noah’s Arks to move a population of 20 million through the floods. But with no time to build them, and none of the specifically recommended wood available, Lagosians were left to get around by car, or by ” Legedix Benz ” — on foot.
There was a time when driving in Lagos needed little more than a licence, a good car, and patience for go-slow traffic. The rainy season has changed that. Driving and parking in Lagos during the rains is no longer just a commute; it is a challenge that demands the quick reactions of a race car driver, the memory of a cartographer, and the awareness of a local street expert, all at once. When the rains come, the city changes: roads turn into rivers, potholes become dangerous, and the daily commute becomes a test of patience and how tough your car really is. Getting around Lagos in the rain is no longer just about obeying traffic rules; it takes sharp driving skills, knowledge of the area, and word-of-mouth intelligence. The wealthy, of course, also have their risk assessors and insurance companies on standby.
Driving in Lagos during the rainy season demands three skills: deft driving, geographical surveillance, and word-of-mouth inquiry.
Deft driving is a discipline no driving school teaches. It isn’t about speed or aggression, but restraint applied at the right moment. Over time, drivers develop an instinctive sense of their vehicle’s clearance and exhaust height, along with a feel for angles, steering, braking, and distance.
The experienced driver becomes a living map of street gradients, knowing, for instance, that the right lane of Ahmadu Bello Way floods after twenty minutes of heavy rain while the left lane holds firm. Before setting out, they mentally chart the route as a series of risk points .
Where personal knowledge runs out, eyewitness testimony takes over. In a city where traffic apps can’t keep pace with a downpour, the human voice delivers the fastest news. A driver nearing a flooded stretch will ask a trader, mechanic, okada rider, or watchman whether it’s passable. This informal network of calls, voice notes, and shouted alerts outperforms any app, because it relies on people standing in the water rather than software apps.
During the rains, driving becomes an exercise in preparation rather than transportation. Every journey begins long before the driver takes their seat: weather apps are studied closely, social media becomes a tool for real-time intelligence gathering, and phone calls are made not out of I-am-just checking on you but for recco. Technology alone isn’t enough. Satellite navigation can show congestion, but it cannot explain why a road that was clear at dawn has become a tributary of the Lagos Lagoon by noon.
In Lagos, every pool of water is treated with suspicion, because looks can be deceiving. Smart drivers are careful, not scared. Most people wait to see how others do before trying it themselves. Often, it’s the ” big boys” in their big jeeps who go first – usually led by the aptly named Nissan Pathfinder if/when available -, either to show off or because they feel confident. If they make it through, everyone else feels safer. If they get stuck, it becomes a warning for the rest.
Even after reaching their destination, the danger is not over. During the rainy season, where you park matters more than how close it is. A small rise in the ground is often more valuable than a convenient parking space. Many drivers return from a short errand only to find their cars partly underwater, with the tyres hidden by muddy floodwater and the floor mats soaked. Every year, mechanics and insurance companies benefit as flood-damaged vehicles arrive at their workshops as regularly as the rainy season itself.
And then there are the Olympic-sized swimming pools that emerge across Lagos from the floods. Entire streets become aquatic training facilities overnight. One cannot help but wonder why the Ministry of Sports has not taken notice of these training facilities. With adequate foresight, Lagos could become the official training camp for aspiring Olympic swimmers ahead of the 2028 Olympic Games. Future generations may look back with gratitude upon these floods acknowledging that while other nations invest billions on swimming pools, Lagos simply awaits patiently for the rains – flood. After all, necessity is the mother of invention
Even so, Lagosians take it in stride. Commuters stuck in traffic chat, debate politics and football, and speculate on the weather with remarkable composure. At flooded junctions, unofficial traffic coordinators appear out of nowhere, no uniforms, no training, just an air of authority, directing vehicles in exchange for a little “something for the boys.” Their contribution to keeping the city moving is often indispensable.
Meanwhile.
Lagosians blame the government, forgetting that the drains and canals are blocked by their own actions—indiscriminate disposal of pure water sachets, plastic bottles, food remnants, and flouting of building regulations. I have seen countless times how the canal along Stadium Road in Surulere causes severe flooding on Adisa Bashua Road due to waste dumping by residents. But once the canal is cleared, the water flows freely and flooding stops.
Perhaps no city embodies Vivian Greene’s famous observation more than Lagos. ” Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass; it’s about learning how to dance in the rain.” Lagosians, having long abandoned any expectation that the storm will pass on schedule, have instead perfected the art of dancing around potholes, floodwaters, and traffic diversions with admirableh grace spirit that navigates land and sea alike, year after year.
“ Eko o’ ni baje ”.
