Lagos, described as the third most stressful city globally, and a concrete jungle by one of Nigeria’s former presidents hosts the alluring Lekki Conservation Centre.
By Hannu Afere
This was the foremost thought in my head as we (my fiancée and best friend, a medical doctor on a short-term program in Lagos) alighted from the car and proceeded down the boulevard of coconut trees that greeted us at the entrance of Lekki Conservation Centre (LCC) in Lagos.
The brochure indicated the centre is 193 acres end-to-end but now standing in the reception area to pay for our tickets and get our visitor’s tags, it seemed as though every inch of the place was teeming with excited humanity. Established in 1990, the centre’s primary purpose is to protect the wildlife and mangrove forests of Nigeria’s Southwest coastline from the threat of urban development. The facility was built by the Chevron Corporation for the Nigerian Conservation Foundation (NCF).
There were thrill-seekers in sporty shorts, multiple groups of teenagers, lovers holding hands, and business executives. Parents with kids under 12 were not allowed on the canopy walk, which was the main attraction of the centre. So, the kids followed another route to the open field where they could play floor board games.
A guide walking with us said the canopy walk was the longest in Africa. He talked for a long time about the kinds of animals we would meet – snakes, crocodiles, apes, birds – and he seemed to be trying really hard to get us in the mood. One “mischievous” person at the back asked if we were going to see dinosaurs too, and this was greeted with hoots of laughter.
We found a tree house 21 metres high. Daredevil kids were taking turns climbing the ladder that led to the top. My fiancée and the doctor-friend joined the group of climbers while I stayed down below because I didn’t have the right footwear.
They couldn’t stop talking about the panoramic view when both of them descended. From the perch, one could very easily take in the picturesque lay of the picnic area, the visitor’s centre, and the children’s playground among the trees.
The tour guide, who had tried to sell the adventure to us, said the mammal life was mostly nocturnal. This piece of information was not taken kindly because we didn’t get to see any crocodiles or boa constrictors either. It was difficult to blame him though, as we all knew if he had mentioned that tiny detail at the reception, ticket sales were sure to drop.
Once we left the treehouse, we came directly to the main attraction of the centre, the canopy walk. Here, our original tour guide left us to attend to the next group of explorers. The new park ranger, a young man with a perpetual grin, beckoned us to approach carefully in groups of eight.
Watching from a distance, the canopy walk really did look terrifying. The platforms were made of durable metal but they were suspended in mid-air by cables. No matter how strong the cables looked, it didn’t seem like something for the feeble-minded!
We joined five other ladies and, steadying ourselves by holding onto the cables, we climbed up. The first bit of the ascension was easy for we were still close to the ground. The ranger was full of stories and he joked that those who were too frightened to continue could turn back now.
He seemed particularly delighted to regale us with stories of people who had mistakenly dropped their phones from such incredible heights while taking selfies. He told us of people who lost control of their bowels when they got to the peak and of others who had walked all the way back, crying and shivering, when everyone else was moving forward because they suddenly realized they were acrophobic.
True to his words, by the time we got to the second and third platforms, our knees were beginning to give way. The expanse of land that was the LCC was several feet beneath us and the sight of it, although breathtakingly beautiful, was the source of anxiety for most of us.
We could not walk steadily due to the adrenaline rush. The platform became wobbly and we had our hearts in our mouths. It didn’t help that a group of boisterous teenagers ahead of us were shaking the cables. A plump girl who was the last in line was mischievously stomping on the platform.
Everyone yelled at the teens to be careful and a few people even promised to deal with them when we eventually got down. I was quite amused by the threats. The girl didn’t seem to care either; she was simply having a jolly good time.
An older woman clutching onto her daughter was muttering her prayers even though the ranger repeatedly told her there was literally no record of anyone plummeting to their deaths. Whenever the wind blew or a mona monkey jumped close by, the ladies screeched and nearly lost their balance. With our hearts thumping in our rib cages and our palms clammy with sweat, we managed to trudge on to the end.
My friend swore she was never going to climb the canopy again but as soon as we descended from the last platform, she was eager to re-live the entire experience. My other friend, however, wasn’t so keen; so, the three of us wandered off to the playgrounds where small pockets of visitors were having picnics, dancing, playing chess on a giant floor board, and taking pictures.
There was a small shed where grilled fish and coconuts were being sold. Since we didn’t eat before we set out, my friend thought it would be wise to try it. Someone had brought a monkey who could do tricks. There was a lot of laughter as we settled down to wait for our food. The monkey mimed sleeping, eating, riding a motorcycle, and playing dead, and was rewarded with sweets.
We were served coconuts with straws and offered help to remove their shell when we were done with the juice. It was a good meal, but I didn’t quite enjoy the coconut since they weren’t mature and crunchy. The fish was exceptionally tasteful, though.
We spent the rest of the evening swapping stories and generally just de-stressing, having burnt all those calories walking and climbing. It wasn’t until the sun began to set that we left the centre.
By the time we got home, I found my friend had uploaded several pictures of our adventures on Instagram with captions on how the experience helped reinvigorate her senses. Seeing how excited she was, it wasn’t difficult for me to acquiesce to her request that we visit the place again.
Hannu Afere is a writer with published work Trinity and co-author of How the story folds, editor-in-chief of anthology of contemporary West African Poetry. The article was originally published by Four Points Communications in NCDMB’s Local Content Digest magazine.
Ayodelé is a Lagos-based journalist and the Content and Editorial Coordinator at Meiza. All around the megacity, I am steering diverse lifestyle magazine audiences with ingenious hacks and insights that spur fast, informed decisions in their busy lives.
