Who Made Lagos?

Recently, pictures of Lagos during colonial rule resurfaced on the internet yet again, a city so beautiful and orderly it almost feels unfamiliar now, as places like CMS looked so clean, so calm, so put-together, a Lagos we can hardly recognize today. And the question, who made Lagos, came up again. The timing is fitting, as one of the most repeated achievements in the political resume of Nigeria’s current president, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, is the claim that he “made Lagos what it is” during his tenure as Governor of Lagos State from 1999 to 2007.

In this essay, we will explore who really made Lagos. Was it the Awori settlers who first called it Eko, the Benin Empire that imposed its early order through Ashipa, the British who made it a colony, or President Bola Ahmed Tinubu? Maybe the question itself has no single answer.

Names and Origin Myths

Long before Lagos became the commercial capital of Nigeria, it was known to its earliest inhabitants, the Awori, as Eko. Some records credit Olofin, also called Aromire, with establishing the early settlements on an island area close to Eko that would become Lagos. These stories vary in detail but describe dispersed communities linked by waterways and shared religious practices, ancestral shrines, and ritual leaders such as Olofin.

The name Lagos itself did not emerge locally. It was introduced by Portuguese explorers and traders who reached the coast in the late 15th century. The Portuguese navigator Rui de Sequeira mapped and named the area in 1472, calling it “Lago de Curamo.” In Portuguese, lago means “lake,” while Curamo described the stretch of coastal water the explorers encountered east of the main island. It was just a geographical label, and over time, the shorthand “Lagos” replaced it, borrowed directly from a coastal town in southern Portugal, the city of Lagos in the Algarve. That city, a major maritime hub during the Age of Exploration, shared a striking similarity with the coastline the Portuguese found in the island area close to Eko. Both were lagoonal ports and gateways to trade.

It is important to state in this essay that this was just naming and trading contact, not colonization. The Portuguese did not exercise political control over Lagos, nor did they build a settlement that displaced the original occupiers. Their influence at this stage was just commercial. This distinction matters because, in some political debates about “who founded Lagos,” the Portuguese naming is sometimes misread as evidence of European origin or creation. In fact, by the time the first Portuguese ships appeared on the lagoon, the Awori were already established there.

They first occupied the mainland area called Eko, as mentioned earlier. Then Olofin, the leader or ruler figure of the people, migrated with part of the people down the waterways, following a sacred stool that floated downstream until it stopped, signifying where they would settle, which became the island area, the one the Portuguese came in contact with and named “Lago de Curamo.” The Portuguese originally used the name only for the island where they traded and docked their ships. Over time, however, the name spread beyond the island to include the surrounding mainland area we know today. It quickly stuck, as it was soon used in European trade records and maps

Eko became Lagos on paper, but forever in the mouths of the Awori settlers, it was always their Eko, meaning “camp,” not just in the sense of war but also a place of gathering and home. In Yoruba history, every settlement carried that same logic. It marked movement and belonging of an area based on who arrived first.

Awori, Benin, and Ashipa

As the Awori settlers continued to grow significantly, especially as a point of trade and contact, another power entered its story, the Kingdom of Benin.

The Benin Empire, during its height, extended its influence along much of the western coast. Historical records from Benin claim that when word reached the Oba of Benin about the growing settlement by the lagoon (now Lagos Island), he sought to establish control. According to that version of history, the Oba sent a man named Ashipa. In some accounts, he was described as a war captain, and in others, as a trusted courtier. He was sent to govern the area on behalf of the Oba of Benin.

This is where it becomes political because, recall that Olofin, the leader of the Awori people, was not a political leader but a spiritual and communal one. His authority came from ancestry and divine sanction. Hence, he guided movement and settlement rather than ruled through hierarchy or conquest. This distinction matters because it explains how the Awori organized themselves through kinship and ritual consensus, not through centralized kingship, until Ashipa arrived in the area, at least according to this version of history. The rulers of Lagos were then recognized as Ashipa’s descendants, creating a dynastic structure that tied the Lagos throne to Benin’s royal tradition. In this narrative, Ashipa marked the beginning of Lagos real kingship.

But the Awori people tell a different story. In their version of history, Ashipa was not sent from Benin but was already of the land of Eko. He was an Awori man who received titles and gifts from the Oba as part of a diplomatic exchange, not as a subject. For them, Benin’s involvement was not an act of conquest but a gesture of mutual recognition, an acknowledgment of shared political ties, intermarriages, and cultural influence rather than subordination.

The difference between these two accounts, one imperial and the other indigenous, tells Lagos identity struggle. For Benin, Lagos was an extension of the empire. For the Awori, it was an inheritance of origin. Both narratives served a purpose. The Benin account legitimized Lagos early Obaship through a prestigious royal lineage, while the Awori account asserted ancestral ownership and land rights, which were vital because land ownership itself is power.

It is simple, the Awori made the place, Benin made the power. Later, the British would make the system, each leaving behind a version of Lagos they claimed to have built.

Atlantic Contacts and Commercial Transformation

The arrival of the Portuguese in the late 15th century brought more than a name to the lagoon area. They set in motion patterns of trade and exchange that would define the city’s role for centuries. The earliest trade was around spices, textiles, and coral beads, items that fit into existing West African systems of value. But by the 17th century, the trade had changed. The same lagoon became a departure point for enslaved Africans. Lagos had become one of the key ports in the Atlantic slave economy.

This shift marked Lagos first great transformation, from a settlement defined by lineage to one defined by capital. Power began to follow trade, traditional chiefs started working with European traders, and families grew powerful through business. Wealth became the new measure of status in Lagos.

By the early 19th century, as Britain abolished the slave trade, Lagos adapted once again. The same Atlantic connections that had facilitated slavery now sustained legitimate commerce. Palm oil, ivory, and textiles replaced human cargo, but the city’s dependence on maritime trade remained intact. This new economy even attracted returnees, and each group brought modern ideas that brought about progress to Lagos.

The British Colonization

By the mid-19th century, Lagos was already a busy port tied to Atlantic trade. But Britain arrived with a different ambition to end the slave trade, a decision that was equally driven by economic control. In 1851, Britain established a Consulate in Lagos and one of the many missions they had in mind was to suppress slavery along the coast. In reality, the British were protecting commercial routes for palm oil and other goods that had replaced the slave trade in profit and scale.

Britain spoke of civilization and progress, and while some of their actions could indeed be seen as progress, many revealed ulterior motives. In 1851, Britain bombarded Lagos to depose Oba Kosoko, who had refused to curtail the slave trade. His uncle and rival, Akitoye, who had promised British cooperation and an end to the slave trade, was restored to the throne. This marked one of the first times a foreign power directly determined who would rule Lagos.

Ten years later, in 1861, Oba Dosunmu, Akitoye’s son, signed the Treaty of Cession, officially handing Lagos over to Britain as a Crown Colony. The document effectively turned Lagos from a sovereign kingdom into a colonial outpost. What Britain called protection was, in truth, annexation. Lagos had been remade again by foreigners.

After the cession, British administrators moved quickly to impose their systems in Lagos, new courts, taxes, roads, and port facilities. They widened access to the lagoon, formalized trade under British customs, and introduced public works that mirrored how things worked in colonial cities elsewhere. These changes were presented as modernization, but their purpose was to make the city profitable to the Crown.

In many ways, this feels familiar. Every new governor of Lagos, postcolonial, has described their rule as a mission to modernize Lagos, to turn Lagos to the next major city in Africa. While the British framed it as civilization, Nigerian leaders who came after called it development. But the language is the same, each power claiming to have made Lagos work, each one remaking it in their own image.

Urban Infrastructure and the Making of a Modern City

Colonial rule turned Lagos into a project of British urban planning. Between the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the city grew rapidly. From new roads, bridges, and ports, all of these began to redefine Lagos to the world. The British built Broad Street, reclaimed swampy areas for trade and housing, and expanded the Marina as the city’s commercial center. What began as an island settlement became the center of an expanding urban region.

Immigration drove much of this growth. Freed Africans from Sierra Leone settled in Lagos as traders, teachers, and clerks, bringing with them English education and Christianity. From Brazil came returnees who introduced new architecture, crafts, and urban styles, even the Yorubas from other parts of the now South West came for work in trade, construction, and administration, while other West African groups added to the mix. Lagos became, in every sense, a city of migrants, which can be argued to still be true today.

By the early 1900s, Lagos had developed a functioning port system and much more infrastructure. These infrastructures, while built to serve British commercial interests, also laid the foundation for Lagos later dominance in Nigeria’s economy.

Historians describe this period as the making of Lagos commercial personality, a city defined less by where people came from and more by what they came to do. Commerce was its culture.

While all of this was great, colonial modernization came at a cost. Segregationist planning divided neighborhoods along racial and economic lines. Europeans lived in Ikoyi and parts of Marina, while Nigerians and other Africans were left in crowded areas that were less developed. Sanitation and road projects often served commercial districts before residential ones. Lagos modernization was uneven, and its inequalities were built into its design that can still be said to reflect in the city today.

By the mid-20th century, Lagos had grown beyond colonial control. The systems built to manage it could no longer keep up with its pace. By independence in 1960, Lagos was already a bustling metropolis, crowded, energetic, and a city of commerce.

Origin Claims Today

The debate about who founded Lagos is one of the most complex. The Oba of Benin had stated recently that Lagos was founded as part of the Benin Empire, while the Yorubas have maintained that the land was theirs long before any Benin influence reached the area.

These arguments today are less about uncovering what truly happened centuries ago and more about how history is being used now, as a tool for asserting identity, legitimacy, and power in the present. It’s all political.

In Lagos, land and identity remain deeply connected to power. That is why the question of who made Lagos is always linked to politics. Each version of the story of this great city serves a purpose. The Benin account reinforces imperial memory, the Awori version asserts ancestral rights, and the colonial narrative justifies foreign control.

But Lagos cannot be reduced to any single origin. Its history has always been layered, shaped by migration, trade, and reinvention. One thing to note, though, is that countless Nigerians and even Africans from across regions helped build Lagos into the economic capital it is today.

The story of Lagos, then, is not about first ownership but about constant transformation, a city that has always belonged to those who build it next. As the popular saying goes, Èkó ò ní bàjé. May Lagos never fall or be ruined in our hands as we continue to build it as the commercial capital of Nigeria.