MUSA JIBRIL
“One Goldberg.”
The order came from a peculiar customer. Tall, lanky, garbed in ripped jean and Gunners jersey and sporting a Mohawk; his face, frame, and voice showed he has not yet reached puberty. He took his order and went back to the corner where he joined five other peers with a similar outlook.
No one paid attention to the indulging teens. It was the night of January 6, 2020, when the Arsenal-Leed match was live on the screen and the adults were a captive audience. The only thing that broke their attention was the occasional titillation by sex workers who strut in and out of the room intermittently. So the underage had their time guzzling beer, spirits and malt.
What went on in the sanctum of this rooftop bar of a nondescript three-story brothel at 106 Ijesha Road – a stone throw from Moshalashi bus stop –is decadence that seeped in from the street.
Teenagers’ bingeing on alcoholic drinks have taken over the street. This slow-developing social problem has recorded a surge in recent years and is now a pervasive malaise in Lagos’ high-density areas such as Oshodi, Orile, Ijora-Badia and Ajegunle.
In certain parts of Ijeshatedo a part of Surulere, the problem is uglier. Streets are choked with stalls and sellers of liquor. Waste is predominantly empty sachets and bottles of spirit-based bitters. The evening leisure is fuelled by inordinate consumption of cheap spirit-based alcohols.
The recent upsurge in varieties of spirits (and their affordability) is transforming youngsters from opportunistic drinker to habitual drinker, thereby fuelling a culture of teenage alcoholism in Ijesha community. A mushroom of clubs, brothels and roadside purveyors of alcoholic drinks is a further catalyst to the decadence.
From opportunists consumer to habitual drinker
Saturday Sun spoke with the six teenagers. The buyer of Goldberg was 17 and the oldest of the lot. An apprentice welder, he was a former classmate of two others in the group at Sanya Secondary School. He dropped out in SS1 Class a year ago. He had become a moneybag who regularly hosts them to a drinking spree, especially whenever Arsenal, his favourite team, is playing a match.
During a casual chat, Hakeemu spoke on behalf of the group.
“How many of you drink beer?”
“Only me. I buy them malt and other “women drinks”.”
By women drinks, he meant non-alcoholic drinks.
“Why are you the only one drinking beer?”
“I am a big boy. These are still small boys, but I give them sips.”
On their table were empty bottles of Dubic malt, Fanta and a yoghurt drink––and four empty sachets of Chelsea dry gins.
“Who takes Chelsea?”
“We use it to ‘ginger’ our soft drink,” one of the teenagers answered.
Per day, Hakeemu consumes an average of seven sachets of spirits, mainly Erujeje, Chelsea and Captain Jack. As an apprentice welder, money is hardly a problem. “I drink beer twice or three times a week and not more than two bottles at a sitting,” he added.
The second encounter with alcoholic teenagers was on the night of Saturday, January 10, at Jimoh Agunbiade Street, off Agbebi Street at Ijesha market. The first storey building on the left side of the street has a respectable façade. Walk in through the side door and you encounter its hideous nature: a rundown brothel with an annexe bet shop and a dilapidated hall for smoking and snooker.
On this night, a set of five teenagers loitered in the gloomy passages watching bettors and snooker players in the smoky room. They soon huddled in a corner and spent the next few minutes drinking sachets of Alomo bitters. They were joined later by two others who arrived with more sachets stuffed in their pockets. As three of them were leaving, another set of four strolled in and they spent their time mixing with hardened drinkers and commercial sex workers. The new arrivals brought more sachets. Eventually, they left after 20 minutes, leaving behind a boy who is barely four feet tall. It turned out he was only 12 years. He gave his name as Destiny. He lived two streets away, on Adewuyi Street.
Destiny had answered the reporter’s inquisition meekly.
“How old are you?”
“13.”
“How many sachets did you drink?”
“Three.”
“When do you come here?”
“Every night.”
“Do you drink every night?”
“Yes.”
“How do you buy-”
“Please sir, I don’t buy. I don’t have money. They call me, I follow them. They buy for me.”
“Which one do you drink?”
He has no favourite brand.
“They always give me Alomo. Sometimes it is Chelsea.”
The third encounter, on January 8, was on Adesina Street, at the entrance of Daramola Lane. Time was 9 pm. An interview with one of the street traders was interrupted rudely by a boy who asked for Sabrina, one of the popular brands of spirits with 30 per cent alcoholic content.
“Who sent you?
“Nobody, I am buying for myself.”
“Why are you buying this?”
“It is my money. I can buy whatever I like.”
And he bought N600 worth of Sabrina in sachets.
Disturbing stories
It is not as if adults are unaware of this trend. Most considered the situation hopeless. Abolore Yusuf told Saturday Sun: “If you come around in the evening, you will find teenagers as young as 12, 13, 14 and 15, both male and female, converge in groups, especially on Sunday to have a drinking time. They usually come well dressed for the occasion.”
The Babs Animashaun axis, according to him, offers a good glimpse of this debauchery. “They book tables and ask for alcohol, I mean beer, whiskey, brandy, everything alcohol. They drink, make merry and take photos. I see this every day. Sometimes, I wonder if those selling these kids alcohols do not have children in their homes.”
Fuhad Saheed, a real estate agent, gave a case study of a teenage victim of alcoholism: “On the street where I live, there is this boy who was known for drinking. His problem was compounded when his father, a polygamist died and the boy suddenly had freedom and money from the shared property. Overnight, he became a chronic alcoholic. He lived only for clubbing. Now he is almost like a lunatic, like someone with a mental problem, begging for money all the time. If you give him a penny, he goes straight to buy all these cheap spirits and drink himself to stupor.”
Peter Maiyaki had seen several worst cases of teenage alcoholism in the Adesina-Wale Cole axis of Ijesha where he lived for several years before his recent relocation. “On two occasions, a child of 12 years was caught alongside his friends, trying to rape a small girl on the street. The second time, he was caught at about 9 pm. On both occasions, he was out of his senses, heavily drunk, because he had taken too much of these cheap sachet drinks and was not aware of what he was doing,” he recounted.
Booming business for sellers
Saturday Sun spoke with some street traders whose stock-in-trade is alcoholic drinks.
Philomena Obajuwana’s ware was a brimming tray of long strips of sachets and small bottles of popular drinks. Her stocks included Chelsea, Seaman, Sabrina, Captain Jack, Derock, Action Biters, Erujeje, Orijin and Strong Bull. She set her table on the street at the junction of Daramola lane, off Adesina Street.
She once had a thriving business at Oshodi before the demolition carried out by the Ambode administration. After two years of penury, she gradually found her way back to trading by selling alcoholic drinks on the street. “In the morning, I hawk at Akorede market in Ijesha. I sell mostly to bus drivers, Okada riders and owners of Keke NAPEP.”
The evening period is her most profitable sales time, and she admitted the majority of the evening buyers are teenagers.
“You cannot differentiate if they are the one taking the drink or they are sent by an elderly person,” she said defensively.
When reminded that she knew her last buyer [who bought N600 worth of Sabrina] was buying for himself, she said: “Na market I dey sell o, na who wan buy I go sell for.”
Another seller, Yemisi Odugbesan set her table a stone throw from Ogunlana Junction, off Ijesha Road, anytime from 7 pm till 11 pm. She admitted making good profits to feed her family. Her entire stock was alcoholic drinks. And the bulk of her customers in the evening ‘rush sales’ are young people.
She gave a candid view. “In this environment, you cannot refuse to sell to these children. If I don’t sell to them, someone else will sell to them, then that’s no way to do business. Teenagers buying alcohol from me is not my problem; I did not cause the problem. The problem begins with their parents who failed to bring them up properly,” she said.
Mr. Anthony Uchenna, who runs an exclusive alcohol shop along Johnson Street, explained the dilemma of the seller. “These small bottles and sachet drinks are the fastest selling products today. Both old and young buy. So, a reasonable trade will stock them. I try not to sell to young people. But sometimes, you have no option, because, seven out of 10 people who come in through that door to buy spirits of N200 or less, look young, how do I know if they are 18 or not?”
Courses of action
“As a father, I am apprehensive about this development. It wasn’t this bad several years ago,” Maiyaki voiced his concern. “Those days, when there were fewer varieties of alcohol in bottles, alcoholism was a problem of young adults. With the emergence of N50 and N100 spirits and whisky in sachets, it has become a problem of teenagers. These alcoholic drinks are the most common commodities on the street today. Anyone who wants to start trading in a kiosk or on a table on the street starts with sachets of Alomo bitters and Chelsea. And we hope the kids won’t imbibe a habit of drinking?”
Mayaki has responded to this social malady with a definite measure: “I have relocated my kids.”
Yusuf blamed the problem on “cheapness” of the products and peer pressure. “Parents now need to pay attention to their children,” he said. “If you live in this kind of environment and you think your child will grow differently from the other kids, then you are deceiving yourself. Now parenting has to be more intensive.”
Saheed invited strict measure: “Government has to come in. This idea of absolute freedom and right will lead us down a dangerous path. Reduce the opportunity and access to alcohol and society will have less vice. We must find a way to take alcohol out of the reach of these teenagers.”
He cited a UAE example. “I was in Dubai recently. While drinking is prohibited there, there are licensed stores where people can go in and drink there. Who says we can’t do the same here? In the days of beer parlour, no one would admit a youngster into his shop let alone put a bottle of beer before him. Since these sachets and small bottles of spirits flooded the street, little children with as little as N100 has the freedom to buy and consume. When liquor is being hawked and sold openly like any other harmless product, it put the young ones under temptation.”
He warned: “Government needs to sweep the street clean of these liquors before it compounds our societal problem.”
Dare Owolabi, an Abuja lawyer, in his learned perspective, noted that while consumption and sales of alcohol generally are not illegal, its use by a child or teenager is unlawful.
“Teenage alcoholism is unlawful and imposes criminal liability on the providers/sellers of alcohol or any other psychological substances to any child. This act violates Section 25 of the Child Right Act and is punishable with imprisonment for life. It also violates Section 20 of the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency Act,” he said.
Apart from the penal consequences of the statutory provisions when violated, “the Consumer Protection Council Act provides extensively in Section 2 for statutory remedies and the Council powers exercisable on behalf of the consumers including teenagers,” he further noted.
Such powers, according to him, include, among others, the power to remove the substance from the reach of teenage consumers, power to cause the offending person to compensate and power to engage in an aggressive campaign against such substance.
“Our laws are sufficient in forms and substance; what is lacking is the will––political or otherwise––for enforcement,” he stated.