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The call to end open defecation in Nigeria has been loud but not necessarily effective. Billboards declare it. Campaigns trumpet it. International donors pledge support. Yet, millions of Nigerians still squat in the bush every morning, not because they want to, but because they see no viable alternative. The problem is no longer ignorance or intention. It is accountability or the lack of it.
Despite the fanfare of sanitation targets and government roadmaps, many initiatives collapse under the weight of poor coordination, weak monitoring, and misplaced priorities. In most states, these failures are glaring. Recent research conducted in some areas in the western part of Nigeria reveals a reality far removed from glossy policy documents: broken toilets, decaying public facilities, and residents too disillusioned to believe help is coming.
Read also: FG warns of sanitation crisis fueling cholera, monkeypox, COVID-19
If we continue to treat sanitation as a peripheral issue or as the exclusive domain of aid agencies, we will never achieve the national goal of eliminating open defecation by 2030.
One recurring theme from the field is that top-down approaches are falling short. Facilities, when provided, are either inappropriate or abandoned within months. According to the World Bank, 60 percent of public toilets in Nigeria become nonfunctional within five years due to poor maintenance and lack of community ownership.
That figure reflects more than just technical neglect; it is a symptom of systemic dysfunction. No clear lines of responsibility. No performance incentives for local governments. No mechanisms to involve the people who are supposed to use these toilets.
This is where community accountability must come in, not as a buzzword, but as a framework.
These committees, composed of landlords, religious leaders, educators, and youth representatives, would monitor sanitation conditions and enforce agreed-upon standards, including bylaws against open defecation. But they cannot function in a vacuum. They need legal backing, technical training, and operational funding. Without these, they will remain just another forgotten layer of bureaucracy.
“If we continue to treat sanitation as a peripheral issue or as the exclusive domain of aid agencies, we will never achieve the national goal of eliminating open defecation by 2030.”
Equally critical is the need for culturally sensitive messaging. In many states in Nigeria, public toilets are seen as facilities “for the poor,” especially among the urban middle class. This perception has stalled the adoption of community-led models like CLTS (Community-Led Total Sanitation), even when these models have proven successful elsewhere. Messaging must therefore shift. Toilets should be framed not only as health infrastructure but also as aspirational, modern, and even prestigious assets.
This worked in Bangladesh and parts of India, where sanitation was linked to dignity, status, and upward mobility. Why not here?
Cultural nuance is not a footnote; it is the foundation. For instance, shame-based messaging, often used in sanitation campaigns, must be applied cautiously in local communities where communal pride and indirect persuasion are more effective than outright embarrassment.
Likewise, public health messaging that fails to account for gender dynamics, such as the higher risk women face when defecating at night, misses the point entirely. One female interviewee put it bluntly: “I wait until it’s dark so no one sees me, but I’m always afraid.” That’s not just poor planning. That’s a public safety failure.
Meanwhile, the absence of health data tracking leaves policymakers flying blind. In many parts of the country, health workers confirmed outbreaks of waterborne diseases during the rainy season, but few records link these outbreaks directly to sanitation conditions.
Without this data, advocacy becomes guesswork, and funding remains patchy. Nigeria must adopt integrated monitoring systems that track not just toilet construction but also usage, health outcomes, and behaviour change, ideally in real time. Models like Bangladesh’s sanitation-health data integration system offer a roadmap.
Read also: Fixing urban sanitation in Lagos: Why data is the missing ingredient
It is tempting to view sanitation as the business of NGOs and donors. But public health infrastructure is a state obligation. This is why the government must formalise partnerships between organisations that have had measurable success training community “sanitation champions” and state institutions.
These champions work because they are local, respected, and accountable to the very people they serve. Scaling this model is not just advisable; it is urgent.
Toilets are not just about waste; they are about dignity, equality, and state legitimacy. When a child dies from cholera in a low-income neighbourhood with no toilets, it is not an accident. It is an institutional failure. And it is time Nigeria stopped treating open defecation as a temporary campaign and started treating it as a test of whether the government can deliver on the most basic promise: public health.
Olugbenga Olaoye is a seasoned professional with extensive experience in the oil and gas industry. He is a PhD candidate specialising in energy economics and holds a Master’s degree in Public Service from the Clinton School of Public Service, USA. He writes from Fort Worth, Texas.
