54 years after, TBS a shadow of itself

The soaked gallery of the main bowl of TBS

 GEOFF IYATSE captures the decadence that characterises the Tafawa Balewa Square in Lagos, which used to be a pride of Nigerian independence:

At the Tafawa Balewa Square, there is, interestingly, something admirable to grin at. A sparkling painted Banqueting Hall now stands a few metres away from the old Defence Headquarters. It is within the neighbourhood of the TBS, a monument past leaders proudly named after the country’s first head of state. Though small and tucked away from the humming main arena of the complex, it is, somewhat, a sharp contrast to the other parts of the complex, which are in a deplorable condition.

Otherwise, the once adorned TBS is sickening memory of the hard-earned independence. As Nigerians across the country lament the dwindling fortune of the country, wondering whether it has not failed nearly five and half decades after it attained independence, the condition of the stand where the country’s flag was hoisted raised questions as to whether the subsequent generations valued the freedom beyond the ritual of lip service.

Whereas similar historic sites in different climes are preserved as tourist destinations, the TBS, which many agree, is about the most outstanding Nigeria’s heritage,   now serves as petty traders centres and a parking lot.

It had been in this condition before the Federal Government put it up for lease in a controversial manner. The civil society community did move against the planned concession, arguing that it was a national heritage of unequal importance whose fate should not be decided by capitalists. But the government insisted a concession would improve its lot and better protect it against sundry abuses.

After years of squabble and even protest, the government dismissed dissenting voices as self-serving and went ahead with a concession plan that saw BHS International Limited emerging the winner. The company, under the chairmanship of the late Fred Archibong, secured an initial 30-year concession agreement.

BHS assumed ownership of the complex, which had been taken over by different vendors and traders many of which the concessionaires claimed were “illegal occupants”, with a promise to transform the place to “world-class city” in the mould of Sandston City of South Africa and Dubai’s trade centre.

Indeed, the company came up with a new plan for the 14.5 hectares of land, consisting a main bowl, large parade ground with stretched galleries and a 375-shop/office complex. A few months into the concession, which was sealed in 2008, a large signpost announcing arrival of l the expected “world-class city” was mounted in front of the complex, just as BHS moved in.

The first acid test for the Archibong-led management’s sense of purpose was the resistance of the existing occupants to pay market rent or quit for new tenants. The debacle, which lasted for years, became a subject of litigation before Abuja waded into the matter. Eventually it was settled.

Then, there was a dispute between Lagos State and the Federal Government over who should be in charge of the facility that had been technically sold by the latter. The demand for the return of the historic property to the state also cast a substantial shadow on the fate of the concession, throwing the investors into panic.

The two obstacles have been long rested, with much of the action plan still stalled at the level of planning and paper works. BHS management is not forthcoming with information as to why it has not moved from the level of rent collection to the real development promised at the concession signing. Its website is at present a litany of plans that lack execution datelines.

According to information gleaned from its website on Tuesday, its immediate projects include automated pre-fabricated two-level underground car parks under the existing parade ground, a two-level underground car park under the existing car park at the rear, about 1,500 shop/office capacity shopping mall, five-star hotels and a 1,500 capacity auditorium. The company said it needed an estimated financial outlay of $50m (about N8bn) to execute the projects, which are scheduled to start “immediately.”

When achieved, a “world-class city” in place of the old TBS, sure, is going to roll away the relics of old Race Course where the country’s past leaders played gulf and other games. The glamour of a modern city would wipe away the memory of the defunct Lagos constabulary who had used the ground for parade and training. It could also end the fading euphoric lowering of the Union Jack for the hoisting of the Green-White-Green, a moment iced with feeling of liberation that is being celebrated across the country today.

And the memory is already failing. TBS, the most visible physical custodian of that mirthful day in the life of the country, has not helped. Perhaps, the abuse of its trappings is a despicable reflection of the supreme price that was paid to buy back the freedom of the black.

TBS, the ancient replica of today’s Eagles Square, was built at the centre of the most strategic government functionaries. It faces the old State House while it is bordered from the west by the Defence Headquarters (which was later named the Independence House). The colonial federal parliament with the National Security Organisation, the legacy of current Department of State Security and other notable establishments, closed up the gigantic complex from the sun rise. Around the circle were Dodan Barracks, the Police Headquarters and all-important (back then) Nigerian Telecommunications Limited head office.

The centrality of the square speaks volumes about the important attention TBS received from the government. But the old-time attention seems to have left with the relocation of the Federal Capital, smirking TBS whose gleam is getting to a vanishing point. Indeed, everything TBS represented seems to have vanished, just as the imposing structure begs for attention.

At an important facility like TBS, visitors would look forward to seeing the flag that was hoisted today in history. But there is nothing like that. In the glorious days of the square, the coat of arm was cast in sparkling blue and white on cubic-shaped heavy metals that were conspicuously hanged at both driveways leading into the main bowl from Obalende and the opposite direction. Some of the metals have fallen while the remaining ones barely depict the national colours.

Between the old National Assembly and the Square were two iron gates that were secured by overhead concrete. Both had horses and eagles (appearing in their respective colours in the coat of arm) cast atop of the gates. Altogether, they were 16 cast horses and 24 eagles. While some of the images still stand firmly in ‘defence’ of the country’s strength and unity, others have either broken down completely or have their essential parts clipped/smeared.

The gates themselves have been badly tampered with. The road initially constructed for use by legislators is used by itinerant traders and pedestrians as an Onikan and Obalende link. It was previously converted to a mini-market until the complex managers locked one of the gates. Yet, this has not stopped passers-by who would rather creep through instead of taking recognised but longer routes.

The shop complex bustles with activities. There is a space for every item sold on the streets of Lagos. Perhaps, owing to its proximity to major courts on Lagos Island, it plays host to several law offices. Interestingly, a generator cleaned and fuelled for use is stationed in front of every shop or office, even when there is power supply in “readiness for incessant blackout” as noted by Steve Omar, who operates a real estate agency at the complex.

The white touch of brown paint chosen for the images formed a beautiful colour rhythm around the main bowl. Sadly, the aesthetics of the main bowl is suffering discoloration just as water litters the galleries and lobbies wherever it rains. Over 12 hours after the last Sunday’s downpour, water was still dropping from the roof of the bowl, just as pools of water stagnated everywhere at the topmost floor – a situation a tenant complained amounts to “national disgrace.”

And because the bowl has become unusually quiet (for only the parade ground is used for car park and occasional trade fairs), it has provided a ‘home’ for owls and other birds decorating the abandoned galleries with droppings.

The shortage of parking lots in the Central Business District may have modified the business module of BHS, which is going more and more into park-and-pay-business. While Lagos car users await ultra-modern parking lots, they have long started benefiting from available spaces. Previously, a ticket was N200. But that has gone up to N300 just as vehicles have started streaming into the main bowl during work hours to park.

Saka Oladepo, a cab driver who has operated from the TBS taxi park since 1970s, lamented the neglect of the complex. He noted the gleam and beauty of the good old days, noting that what is left at the place is nothing close to the TBS he used to know.

“There was light everywhere during the night. People came from different parts of Lagos to have fun at the complex, except that they were not allowed to stay beyond 6pm. There was no harassment. And you could see both the rich and the poor having fun together. But that is history,” he noted.

The elderly Oladepo, who could barely recall the beginning of TBS conundrum, said the relocation of government functionaries to Abuja and emergence of new cities could be responsible.

Also, Mathias Agbor, an indigene of Cross River, lived all his life working around TBS. He retired from NSO to pick up a civil security job at the edifice. He said TBS was allowed to degenerate as a result of the country’s poor maintenance culture.

According to him, it would be better off if the government handed it over to a specific agency to take care. He also observed that historical monuments of the stature of TBS should not have been left to be maintained on a haphazard basis.

Another close watcher of events at TBS, Eke Patrick, who was in school in the east during independence, recounted, “TBS was the most attractive centre to me – followed by the Bay Beach in those days. The first place I visited when I came to Lagos was TBS. It was awesome and beautiful. It is difficult to describe the beauty.

“I grew up to love and cherished the place like every other person in the city. Government should have adopted whatever means to sustain it, considering the value it holds for us as a country.”