Toxic Trails: How Ogijo’s Battery Plants Endangered A Community — & Forced A Nationwide Crackdown

By STELLA JOHNSON OGBOVOVEH
THE quiet industrial town of Ogijo, straddling the border of Lagos and Ogun states, has become the epicentre of one of Nigeria’s most alarming environmental crises. After years of warnings, investigations, and unheeded directives, the National Environmental Standards and Regulations Enforcement Agency (NESREA) has finally shut down multiple battery recycling plants whose operations, investigators say, endangered an entire community.
The closures follow a detailed multi-media investigation by PREMIUM TIMES, The Examination, and international partners, which uncovered a disturbing pattern: recycling factories releasing toxic lead dust, discharging contaminated wastewater, and leaving heaps of hazardous slag in the open, while residents — including children — were silently poisoned.
A Community Living with Poison
In Ogijo, black soot coats rooftops and farmlands. Children play on soil laced with chemicals, and many residents describe chronic symptoms — stomach pains, headaches, fatigue, difficulty concentrating — without knowing these mirror classic signs of lead poisoning.
Scientific tests conducted during the investigation confirmed their fears.
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All 70 workers sampled had dangerously high blood-lead levels, some reaching 38 µg/dL — several times above global health limits.
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Eight out of 14 tested children exceeded the five µg/dL threshold considered harmful to cognitive development.
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Soil samples from homes, farms and even school playgrounds showed catastrophic contamination; one schoolyard recorded over 1,900 ppm of lead, far above international safety standards.
Inside the factories, workers described a grim routine: batteries smashed by hand, molten lead handled without protection, fumes filling the air, and toxic slag left in piles that washed into farmlands after rainstorms.
Regulators Move — After Years of Warnings Ignored
NESREA’s shutdown followed months of quiet diplomatic engagement, technical assistance, and repeated warnings issued under the government-industry initiative known as PROBAMET. But inspectors said the recycling companies simply carried on with business as usual.
In its findings — shared via an official statement — NESREA reported:
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untreated lead-contaminated wastewater flowing into land and waterways;
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widespread escape of lead dust due to poor ventilation systems;
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hazardous slag left exposed or diverted for illegal construction use;
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missing medical records for workers handling toxic materials;
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outdated or nonexistent environmental permits.
The agency noted that operators consistently violated the National Environmental (Battery Control) Regulations, 2024, which mandate: effluent treatment plants, safe slag storage, environmental audits, and annual medical testing for exposed workers.
A Pattern of Closure and Reopening
This latest enforcement follows a previous NESREA seal-up in September, when nine recycling plants — including the major exporter True Metals — were shut for dangerous practices. But following a meeting in Abuja between regulators and manufacturers, the facilities were allowed to reopen under a “protocol” for gradual compliance.
NESREA’s Director-General, Innocent Barikor, defended the reopening, saying the talks revealed serious technological and infrastructural challenges facing the companies. He said the negotiated protocol included timelines for cleaning up legacy slag dumps — but only after the government identifies a certified disposal site.
However, contamination continued, and community complaints intensified, prompting this latest, more forceful action.
Global Fallout
The investigation had international repercussions. True Metals was found to be exporting recycled lead to buyers in Europe, Asia, and the United States. Shortly after the publication, American battery giant East Penn Manufacturing cut off all Nigerian suppliers, admitting it had tightened scrutiny of its global supply chain.
A Systemic Failure — and a Reset
The shutdown marks one of NESREA’s most aggressive actions in years and underscores a growing recognition that Nigeria’s booming but poorly regulated recycling sector poses grave public health risks.
For Ogijo residents, who have long lived with the invisible poison in their air and soil, the move brings relief — but also raises questions about years of regulatory lapses and the slow pace of enforcement.
What happens next — from cleanup to prosecution to long-term health monitoring — may determine whether Ogijo becomes a turning point in Nigeria’s environmental governance or just another toxic cautionary tale.
