By Kachi Okezie, Esq
Last October, in just one night, the River Niger rose and swallowed entire streets in Lokoja. In Makurdi, families slept on rooftops as water took their homes. In Bayelsa, communities were cut off for weeks. Schoolchildren paddled canoes to class. Farmlands vanished. And yet, by January, the conversation had moved on.
This is the danger we face as a country. We treat climate shocks as “natural disasters” — acts of God we respond to, mourn, and forget. But they are not natural. They are governance failures. And they are landing, again and again, at the doorstep of local government.
Policymakers in Abuja and the states must understand this: the frontline of the climate crisis is not in international conferences. It is in the ward, the LGA secretariat, the market square, and the community town hall. If we do not build resilience from the bottom up, we will keep spending billions on relief while losing lives, livelihoods, and trust.
Climate resilience is not just bigger drains and sandbags. It is the ability of a community to anticipate a shock, absorb it without collapsing, adapt so it hurts less next time, and recover in a way that leaves people stronger. That is what resilience really means.
In simple terms: Can a community in Sokoto survive a 40-degree heatwave without losing elders? Can a community in Ogun survive 3 days of heavy rain without losing homes? Can farmers in Benue plant and harvest even when the rains come late?
Right now, for too many of our LGAs, the answer is no. Not because our people are weak, but because our systems are. The Nigerian reality: it is already here.
We do not need to look to Germany or Canada to understand the threat. It is in our backyard.
Take Jigawa, 2022. Weeks of rain collapsed roads, submerged 200 communities, and displaced over 200,000 people. The state government responded, but many LGAs had no contingency fund, no early warning system in Hausa and Fulfulde, and no updated list of vulnerable households. Relief came late. Preventable deaths happened.
Take Lagos, every rainy season. In Ajegunle and Ibeshe, a 2-hour downpour means waist-deep water. Why? Because waste blocks drainage. Because buildings sit on waterways. Because the LGA environmental department has 3 trucks for 1 million people, and community waste cooperatives are not formally part of the plan.
Take the North Central. In Benue and Nasarawa, erratic rainfall and desertification have intensified farmer-herder clashes. This is not just “insecurity.” It is climate stress breaking down traditional agreements on land and water. Our LGA peace committees were not trained or funded to manage climate-driven conflict.
The Global North debates air conditioning and insurance payouts. In the Global South, including Nigeria, the debate is more basic: Will my children have water tomorrow? Will my shop survive the next flood? The missing piece: community-based governance.
For 30 years we have tried “government knows best.” It has not worked. Top-down projects collapse the moment the contractor leaves.
Climate resilience demands something different: community-based environmental governance.
This means the LGA stops being only the “doer” and becomes the broker. The community brings local knowledge: where does water always enter first? Who are the elderly living alone? What trees have we always planted before rains? The private sector brings technology and financing. Government brings policy, coordination, and some funding. We already have proof it works in Nigeria.
In Lagos, the Waste-to-Wealth program succeeded where pure government collection failed because CDAs and youth cooperatives were paid to do house-to-house collection. They knew which streets to enter. Vandalism dropped because the bins belonged to them.
In Kano, some LGAs working with NGOs have revived traditional “fadama” water conservation and tree planting led by community leaders. Where there are trees and small dams, runoff is slower and farms survive dry spells better.
Resilience is built in these small, unglamorous places. Not in a press conference. Here is what must be done — and now:
To policymakers and LGA Chairmen reading this: the next flood season is 6 months away. Here is what is demanded of you:
First, budget differently. Every LGA should ring-fence at least 10% of its allocation for climate adaptation. Not for new SUVs. For clearing drainages before rain, for training “Resilience Champions” in every ward, for small contingency funds that can be released in 24 hours, not 24 weeks.
Second, plan with people, not for them. Before you approve any project, ask: “Which community committee co-designed this?” Publish flood and heat risk maps at the ward level. Use town criers, WhatsApp groups, and radio in local languages for early warnings. In 2022, many people in Jigawa did not get warnings because they came in English, days late.
Third, protect our land. Stop approving houses being built on floodplains and water channels. It is politically hard, but morally non-negotiable. Partner with traditional rulers and CDAs to enforce this. Give communities alternative, safe land.
Fourth, invest in green and social infrastructure. Plant trees in our markets. Restore wetlands. Support climate-smart agriculture. But also check on our elderly during heatwaves. Resilience is as much about neighbours looking out for each other as it is about concrete.
Finally, measure what matters. Stop reporting “we built 10km of road.” Start reporting “2,000 households in Ward 3 did not flood this year.” Let communities score their LGA on resilience every quarter.
The choice before us. Climate change will not wait for us to get our politics right. The rains will come. The heat will rise. The question is whether our communities will break or bend.
We cannot prevent every shock. But we can prevent shocks from becoming disasters. And that work happens at the local level.
To the leaders and managers in local government: your job description has changed. You are no longer just collectors of revenue and patchers of roads. You are the first line of defence for the people against the greatest threat of this century.
The floods will keep coming. The question is: Will our LGAs be ready? Our people are watching. And the water is rising.
Kachi Okezie, Esq, a thought-leader on environmental law and justice, is a member of the Abuja branch of the Nigerian Bar Association.
