Once a thriving communal settlement known for its self-reliance and prosperity, Ayetoro, Ondo State, is now battling for survival as relentless sea incursions continue to swallow homes, livelihoods, and cherished memories. DAMILOLA ORIGBEMISUYI reports.
At dawn, when the tide rises against the shoreline of Ayetoro, residents watch anxiously from their homes, uncertain what the sea might claim next. A house standing today could be gone tomorrow. A school relocated this year may need another site before the next rainy season.
In this historic riverine community in Ilaje Local Government Area of Ondo State, the ocean has become an unrelenting force, steadily consuming a town that once stood as one of Nigeria’s greatest examples of communal development.
The story of Ayetoro’s sea incursion is not new. Over the years, government officials, environmental experts, and development agencies have documented the advancing shoreline and the dangers it poses. Yet for the people who call the community home, the crisis remains far from over.
What makes Ayetoro’s plight particularly heartbreaking is the story of what the community once represented. Founded in 1947 by visionary Ilaje fishermen who rejected exploitation and embraced self-governance, Ayetoro emerged as one of Nigeria’s most remarkable experiments in communal development.
Known as the “City of Refuge,” the settlement was built on principles of collective enterprise, self-reliance and shared prosperity long before such concepts became fashionable in development discourse. At the peak of its prosperity, Ayetoro was widely regarded as the industrial heartbeat of the old Ondo Province and a thriving tourist destination.
The community established indigenous boat-building yards, fish-processing factories, and cottage industries that employed hundreds of residents. Through communal efforts, it built schools, a maternity centre and electricity-generating facilities, transforming what was once a remote fishing settlement into a symbol of innovation and economic success.
Unfortunately, much of that legacy lies beneath the ocean today. Coastal erosion, rising sea levels and increasingly severe climate impacts have ravaged the community, with local leaders estimating that about 85 per cent of Ayetoro has been lost to the advancing sea. More than 600 homes, public institutions and community-owned industries have reportedly been destroyed, forcing repeated displacement of families and threatening the survival of a cultural heritage that has endured for nearly eight decades.
Scattered across parts of the coastal community are remnants of lives interrupted, broken foundations where houses once stood, abandoned structures leaning dangerously toward the water, and stretches of land that residents say used to be occupied by homes, schools and places of worship. Conversations are punctuated by references to places that no longer exist. Residents point toward the Atlantic and speak of neighbourhoods, family compounds and public buildings that have long since disappeared beneath the advancing sea.
For residents, the crisis extends beyond the loss of land. It is a story of livelihoods destroyed, families uprooted, and a proud history facing gradual extinction.
For Mrs Mofeoluwa Arowolo, a resident of the community, the crisis is written into every aspect of her life. A retired public servant, she had hoped retirement would offer an opportunity to enjoy the rewards of years of service. Instead, it marked the beginning of a different struggle.
Using her retirement benefits, she established a business along a major road near the technical school. The shop became her source of livelihood. The shop was modest but vital; two freezers stocked with drinks, crates of beverages, books, and essential goods that sustained both her livelihood and her hope for a secure future. To strengthen it, she also borrowed from a cooperative society, believing steady business would allow her to repay and live comfortably.
But the sea disrupted every plan. One early morning, around 4:30 a.m., she received a call urging her to rush to her shop. By the time she arrived, everything had been wiped out. The structure had disappeared. The freezers were gone. Crates of drinks, gas cylinders, books, and all stored goods had been taken by the advancing water. The ground itself had shifted, leaving no trace of what once stood there.
She lamented, “This incursion has affected me greatly. I have a shop on the main road beside the technical school. There, I invested all my retirement benefits. I put everything there. I have two freezers selling drinks, all types of drinks, then books and other things.
“All of a sudden, at night, I just had a knock around 4:30 a.m. “Come, come, the sea has wiped away your shop.” Before I got there, the two freezers loaded with things, the crate of minerals, the crate of beer, the gas that I am selling, and even the books were all wiped away. This money was not only my own. I even borrowed from the cooperative to add to it. That was a great loss to me.
The loss did not end with her business. The sea later reached her home. Then another after relocation. Another displacement followed each attempt to rebuild.
“Not only that, the house I am living in, not quite about two months after, this incursion got there and wiped it away. I managed to get just a little of my belongings. I moved to the second house, to the third house. The third house, we are removing it presently. It is affected by the sea salt,” she cried.
Today, she lives with mounting debt, unable to repay loans taken to sustain her business, while struggling to meet basic needs and support. For her, the sea has become a force that not only destroys property but also dismantles financial security and plans.
She said, “So the economic situation is so bad for me that I am in debt now. I am in debt because of this incursion. I couldn’t pay back the loan I borrowed. I couldn’t even have something to eat. My children are still in school. I didn’t know what to do.”
