By Ibrahim Adam
Street food remains a staple in major cities due to its affordability and accessibility, but it is often prepared by vendors operating under unhygienic conditions. IBRAHIM ADAM reports that despite obvious risks of diarrhoea, typhoid and cholera, many consumers continue to rely on street food to satisfy hunger and meet their daily dietary needs
At the ever-busy Ikorodu Roundabout in Lagos, where blaring horns clash with roaring engines and hurried footsteps, survival wears many faces.
This junction is a restless theatre of movement: vehicles edging for space, commuters darting across lanes, and traders carving out livelihoods in the narrow margins of the road.
One of those traders is Iya Tawa, a roadside food vendor whose daily hustle unfolds in full view of the city’s chaos. She occupies a strategic corner by the roadside, seated quietly beside a metal tray carefully arranged with chicken wings, legs and other assorted parts.
Hidden dangers: How Lagos residents risk health for cheap street meals
February 8, 2026 12:03 am
By Ibrahim Adam
Street food remains a staple in major cities due to its affordability and accessibility, but it is often prepared by vendors operating under unhygienic conditions. IBRAHIM ADAM reports that despite obvious risks of diarrhoea, typhoid and cholera, many consumers continue to rely on street food to satisfy hunger and meet their daily dietary needs
At the ever-busy Ikorodu Roundabout in Lagos, where blaring horns clash with roaring engines and hurried footsteps, survival wears many faces.
This junction is a restless theatre of movement: vehicles edging for space, commuters darting across lanes, and traders carving out livelihoods in the narrow margins of the road.
One of those traders is Iya Tawa, a roadside food vendor whose daily hustle unfolds in full view of the city’s chaos. She occupies a strategic corner by the roadside, seated quietly beside a metal tray carefully arranged with chicken wings, legs and other assorted parts.
It is a space where livelihoods collide with hazards and dirt, and necessity often overrides caution.
When our correspondent approached Iya Tawa to ask about prices, she leaned forward and touched the chicken with her bare hands, the same hands she had moments earlier used to wipe sweat from her face and adjust her wrapper. Asked why she was not wearing gloves while handling the food, her response came quickly, edged with irritation.
“Are you here to buy market or to question me? Buy if you want to buy or leave this place,” she snapped.
Yet, after some persuasion, her defensiveness gave way to weary honesty. Beneath the sharp words lay a story of compulsion rather than choice. For Iya Tawa, the roadside is not just a place of trade; it is her lifeline.
“This business is my only means of survival,” she said, her voice thick with frustration. “If I don’t sell here, my children will not go to school.”
In that brief confession, the daily reality of countless street vendors across Lagos comes into focus: men and women trapped between health risks and hunger, regulation and survival, doing what they must in a city that rarely slows down or makes room for their struggles.
Hidden dangers: How Lagos residents risk health for cheap street meals
February 8, 2026 12:03 am
By Ibrahim Adam
Street food remains a staple in major cities due to its affordability and accessibility, but it is often prepared by vendors operating under unhygienic conditions. IBRAHIM ADAM reports that despite obvious risks of diarrhoea, typhoid and cholera, many consumers continue to rely on street food to satisfy hunger and meet their daily dietary needs
At the ever-busy Ikorodu Roundabout in Lagos, where blaring horns clash with roaring engines and hurried footsteps, survival wears many faces.
This junction is a restless theatre of movement: vehicles edging for space, commuters darting across lanes, and traders carving out livelihoods in the narrow margins of the road.
One of those traders is Iya Tawa, a roadside food vendor whose daily hustle unfolds in full view of the city’s chaos. She occupies a strategic corner by the roadside, seated quietly beside a metal tray carefully arranged with chicken wings, legs and other assorted parts.
The display, which is uncovered, is impossible to miss for motorists inching through traffic or commuters navigating their way in and out of the densely populated local government area.
But the same visibility that draws customers also exposes her wares to the harsh realities of the street. Dust rises endlessly with each passing vehicle, mixing with thick exhaust fumes that hang in the air. Flies hover persistently, settling and lifting again, as the uncovered chicken sits at the mercy of the elements.
A few metres away, beggars and petty traders perch on a culvert at the road’s median, their presence underscoring the congestion and the glaring absence of sanitary order around the roundabout.
It is a space where livelihoods collide with hazards and dirt, and necessity often overrides caution.
When our correspondent approached Iya Tawa to ask about prices, she leaned forward and touched the chicken with her bare hands, the same hands she had moments earlier used to wipe sweat from her face and adjust her wrapper. Asked why she was not wearing gloves while handling the food, her response came quickly, edged with irritation.
“Are you here to buy market or to question me? Buy if you want to buy or leave this place,” she snapped.
Yet, after some persuasion, her defensiveness gave way to weary honesty. Beneath the sharp words lay a story of compulsion rather than choice. For Iya Tawa, the roadside is not just a place of trade; it is her lifeline.
“This business is my only means of survival,” she said, her voice thick with frustration. “If I don’t sell here, my children will not go to school.”
In that brief confession, the daily reality of countless street vendors across Lagos comes into focus: men and women trapped between health risks and hunger, regulation and survival, doing what they must in a city that rarely slows down or makes room for their struggles.
Survival at the roadside
According to Iya Tawa, most of her customers are low-income earners who simply cannot afford frozen chicken sold in shops and cold rooms. For them, roadside food is not a preference but an economic compromise.
“People who buy from me are people who don’t have enough money. The prices inside shops are too high for them. And this is like the only opportunity they have to eat frozen chicken because it is quite affordable,” the food vendor said.
Despite the obvious health risks associated with selling food in such an environment, she insisted that whatever profit she makes each day goes straight into taking care of her children’s education and feeding.
Her presence at the chaotic roundabout, she explained, is not an act of defiance but a desperate attempt to survive in the face of economic hardship and the lack of alternative means of livelihood.
Given a choice, she said she would gladly operate in a cleaner, more regulated space.
She complained that small-scale traders like her often face harassment rather than support.
“Government people don’t come here to ask how we are surviving; they only come when they want to chase us away. If they give us a clean place or help us a little, I will gladly move. I know this place is not good, but hunger is worse. Every day I wake up, I pray that I will sell enough to eat and send my children to school. This is not the life I planned, but this is the work that is keeping us alive.”
An everyday sight on Lagos streets
Scenes like Iya Tawa’s play out daily across Lagos. From bustling junctions to crowded markets, uncovered food displays have become a familiar and almost inseparable part of the city’s landscape.
The practice is not unique to Lagos; similar scenes are common in other major cities across Nigeria.
Along busy roads and market corridors, snacks, cooked meals, cereals and fruits are routinely displayed in the open.
Roasted plantain sellers, bean cake (akara) vendors, fish sellers, fruit hawkers and shawarma stands often operate close to open drains and refuse dumps, and just metres away from heavy traffic, with little regard for public health and safety.
In Apapa, for instance, a fruit seller who identified himself simply as Salisu was observed washing all his fruits with just half a paint bucket of water.
Asked why he did not use more water to ensure proper hygiene, he said buying more would cost him an extra N100, an expense that would cut into his profit for the day.
Not long after, he proceeded to slice the poorly washed fruits, slid them into small transparent cellophane bags and neatly arranged them on a tray for display.
As night falls, food stands come alive in parts of Ikeja, where assorted rice, chicken and stew are displayed uncovered on tables and illuminated by bright lights.
Along Awolowo Way and Toyin Street, buyers crowd around these stands, leaning close to the food as they make their selections.
Speaking with Sunday PUNCH, the owner of one such stand, Chibuzor Eluwa, said exposing the food was a deliberate strategy to attract customers.
“People are more likely to buy food when they can see it,” he said.
Eluwa explained that many Lagos residents return home late and exhausted after long workdays and prefer to buy food rather than cook.
According to him, covering the food would make the business less noticeable to passers-by.
On public health concerns, he dismissed the risks, insisting that proper cooking was sufficient protection.
“We have always done that by cooking a good meal for people to buy. Once we cook well, forget about the fumes from the moving vehicles, it can’t do anything to the food,” he said.
Inasmuch as street food remains a vital source of affordable and convenient meals for millions of urban residents, health experts warn that poor hygiene and constant exposure to contaminants pose serious health risks.
A medical practitioner, Dr Idi Martins, warns that foods exposed to dust, flies, vehicle exhaust and unsafe water are highly susceptible to contamination by bacteria and other harmful substances.
He explained that regular consumption of such foods increases the risk of foodborne illnesses, infections and long-term health complications.
“Roadside food vending is unhygienic and presents a serious threat to consumers’ health. These foods are often sold along busy roads and are exposed to pollution, dust and smoke from vehicles and pedestrian traffic. Even when hawkers attempt to cover their food with polythene bags, it still poses health risks, including food poisoning and other serious illnesses,” he said.
Martins also criticised the personal hygiene of some vendors, as well as the cleanliness of their utensils and food preparation processes.
“Many roadside vendors wear soiled aprons, leave their hair uncovered, and handle food with unclean hands and utensils without proper washing,” he added.
A street vendor selling different products without NAFRAC registration number
‘Why we prefer street food’
Despite growing concerns about the health implications, many urban residents say roadside meals offer immediate access and are less processed than food sold in eateries.
A Lagos resident, Wasiu Ajibade, told Sunday PUNCH that he prefers buying roasted plantain from roadside vendors because it is freshly prepared and visible.
“At least it is freshly made and hot. It is what I can see at the moment and not something that has been preserved. Most of the food they sell inside eateries, I do not know what they use to preserve them,” he blurted.
Ajibade acknowledged the exposure to dust and exhaust fumes but said it would not change his habits.
“There is dust and exhaust fumes everywhere, but I will still not go for eatery food. I am more comfortable eating what I can see being prepared in front of me,” he added.
The display, which is uncovered, is impossible to miss for motorists inching through traffic or commuters navigating their way in and out of the densely populated local government area.
But the same visibility that draws customers also exposes her wares to the harsh realities of the street. Dust rises endlessly with each passing vehicle, mixing with thick exhaust fumes that hang in the air. Flies hover persistently, settling and lifting again, as the uncovered chicken sits at the mercy of the elements.
A few metres away, beggars and petty traders perch on a culvert at the road’s median, their presence underscoring the congestion and the glaring absence of sanitary order around the roundabout.
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