On a mildly sunny morning in January, Blessing Bolaji squeezed into a packed Toyota Space Bus headed from Ogudu to Lagos Island. As the bus cut through traffic, a conversation among passengers stirred something painful in her.

Ms Bolaji joined in, recalling the long, exhausting commutes she once endured from Ogun State to her workplace in Lekki, on Lagos Island.

The daily stress eventually forced her to relocate to Lekki Phase 1.

“I thought I was making life easier,” she said, explaining her decision to move closer to her workplace in 2024. “Instead, I walked into a nightmare.”

Her new apartment came with an invisible cost—no access to clean water. The borehole produced coloured water that looked unsafe at first glance. But with rising living costs and limited options, she began using it for bathing.

“I added Dettol to the water before bathing. I even used medicated soap, but it didn’t help,” she said.

“My skin started burning and itching, and the rashes got worse. I had to stop using the water because it felt like it was killing me.”

Soon, visits to the hospital became frequent for Ms Bolaji. She was left with no choice but to switch to using sachet water for everything possible, from bathing to cooking. It was an expensive solution, but the only one she could trust.

Across Lagos Island, in neighbourhoods like Itafaji, Onola, and Adeniji Adele, the water may look clear, but residents say it carries hidden dangers.

Behind the tap’s steady trickle lies a silent threat: bacteria, biological contaminants, and a growing public health crisis.

For many residents, the burden goes beyond finances; it strikes at their dignity and well-being. PREMIUM TIMES visited several homes across the island, where residents spoke of high rents, unreliable infrastructure, and the daily struggle to live with dignity.

Parents described the cost of bathing their children with bottled water, the discomfort of rashes that wouldn’t go away, and the heartbreak of watching their families suffer. Some, unable to afford clean alternatives, said they simply “bathe in salt” to soothe their skin.

Children in pain, mothers in despair

In a modest two-bedroom flat in Itafaji, Lagos Island, a registe