By Temitope Adetunji
It was
meant to be a normal morning of therapy, laughter, and carefully structured
routines that help children with developmental challenges make sense of their
world.
But
for eight-year-old Chinedu (not his real name), who lives with cerebral palsy
and depends on daily guided movement therapy, the day unfolded differently.
That
morning, after being bathed and dressed by his caregiver at Magnificient
Therapy Services in Yaba, Lagos, and preparing for the familiar rhythm of
exercises that help him sit upright for longer periods, strange men suddenly
stormed the facility, and he was hurriedly lifted into the arms of a staff
member.
Voices
rose, furniture was dragged outside, and unfamiliar faces bent on enforcing an
eviction order took over the premises.
For
Chinedu and 31 other children, the world they understood: safe rooms, gentle
instruction, and structured care, suddenly dissolved into confusion and
uncertainty.
What
was once known as a place of care, patience, and a support system for
vulnerable children with developmental challenges became a scene of
displacement and quiet heartbreak.
The
chaotic scene unfolded on Wednesday, May 13, 2026, when Magnificent Therapy
Services, a long-standing therapy and caregiving centre for children with
special needs, was forcibly evicted from the building it had occupied for 16
years following a court-enforced action arising from a prolonged tenancy
dispute.
The
eviction left 32 children, some unable to walk and others requiring constant
supervision, suddenly without the stable environment they depended on for
learning, emotional regulation, and survival.
For
many of these children, routine is not a luxury; it is a lifeline. Consistent
therapy, predictable environments, and familiar caregivers are not merely
supportive structures; they are essential to preventing regression in physical,
cognitive, and emotional development.
The
abrupt loss of their therapy centre, therefore, meant more than losing a
building. It meant losing safety, structure, and continuity.
“This
is not just a building we lost,” co-founder and therapist, Bidemi Jaiyesimi,
said, his voice heavy with emotion. “We lost a safe space for children who
depend on routine, care, and stability to survive each day.”
The
eviction unfolded with startling speed. One moment, staff members were trying
to calm and organise the children; the next, therapy rooms had been emptied,
with furniture recklessly flung outside.
Confused
and distressed children who rely on wheelchairs or physical assistance were
left outside the building, exposed to the elements, while caregivers scrambled
to comfort them.
“It
happened so fast. Some of our children who cannot walk had to be kept outside
the building. It is an image I will never forget. Their belongings were
scattered outside. It is very depressing,” Jaiyesimi said, wiping tears from
eyes reddened by crying.
For
vulnerable children, sudden environmental disruption can trigger severe
emotional distress, behavioural regression and, in some cases, medical
complications.
Many
of the children at the centre live with autism spectrum disorder, cerebral
palsy, Down syndrome, dyslexia, and other developmental conditions that require
consistency, specialised intervention, and controlled surroundings.
Some
parents, who had entrusted the centre with the care and therapy of their
children, arrived in panic after hearing about the eviction and were
overwhelmed by the scene before them. Many hurriedly took their children home.
But
not all had that option. Orphans and children without immediate guardians were
moved into an uncompleted building as a temporary arrangement, while concerned
neighbours stepped in to provide short-term shelter.
Founded
in 2010 in a modest two-bedroom apartment with just two children, Sunday PUNCH
gathered that Magnificient Therapy Services gradually grew into a fragile but
vital refuge, becoming a place where children often excluded by society could
receive care, therapy, and attention tailored to their specific needs.
Yet
sustainability has always remained fragile.
The
centre, which currently has 23 staff members and 32 children in its care,
admits children based on what Jaiyesimi describes as “mental age,” ranging from
three to 32 years.
He
revealed that it survives largely on donations, while some parents contribute
between N80,000 and N100,000 every three months, amounts many families struggle
to afford amid worsening economic hardship.
“We
were not refusing to move. We were trying to survive the process without
abandoning the children,” Jaiyesimi explained.
He
said the organisation had been issued a six-month notice to vacate and had been
making efforts to raise funds for relocation.
Even
appeals for intervention reportedly reached the Sabo Divisional Police Station.
Yet, despite these efforts, the eviction proceeded.
Now
displaced, one painful question remains unresolved: where will the children
continue not only their therapy, but also find shelter?
For
children with special needs, instability is not merely inconvenient; it can be
deeply damaging. Unlike their peers in more resourced environments who benefit
from structured learning systems, specialised equipment, and consistent
therapeutic schedules, these children depend heavily on predictability and safe
spaces to thrive.
Jaiyesimi
said without such support, developmental progress painstakingly built over
months or years can quickly be lost.
“We
are stranded now. These children cannot just be moved from place to place like
luggage. We need a safe, permanent facility. This is a cry for help,” the
therapist said quietly.
Jaiyesimi
said the government was aware of the dire situation but described the support
received so far as insufficient due to competing demands across Lagos State.
“We
have spoken to the available government structures, but the support is not
enough. There are too many needs, too many children, and not enough systems
built specifically for cases like this,” he lamented.
Despite
the centre’s struggles, it had benefited from its proximity to health
institutions in Yaba, including colleges of health technology, orthopaedic
hospitals, and physiotherapy centres, where students and professionals
interacted with the children for practical learning and care exposure.
Global
child protection and health bodies have long warned about the consequences of
such gaps. The World Health Organisation emphasises that children with
developmental disabilities require early, continuous, and integrated care
systems that include rehabilitation, education, and psychosocial support.
Without these, they risk lifelong exclusion from education, employment, and
social participation.
In
Nigeria, children with disabilities already face significant barriers to
inclusion, education, and healthcare.
While
some children benefit from structured classrooms, assistive learning tools,
trained therapists, and inclusive education systems, these 32 children now face
an uncertain future without a guaranteed space for therapy, learning, or
stability.
Similarly,
the United Nations Children’s Fund notes that children with disabilities are
among the most vulnerable populations globally, facing higher risks of neglect,
institutional exclusion, and limited access to essential services.
UNICEF
stresses that inclusion is not charity but a right and has called on
governments to build systems that ensure accessible healthcare, education, and
community-based support.
Both
WHO and UNICEF have also consistently highlighted that sudden disruptions in
care, such as the loss of therapy services or displacement from supportive
environments, can have long-term consequences for a child’s development, mental
health, and overall well-being.
The
organisations advocate stable, family-centred, and community-supported care
systems that protect continuity in learning and rehabilitation.
Beyond
immediate shelter, advocates say what is urgently needed is not just
relocation, but structured intervention through safe facilities, sustained
funding, inclusive policies, and a stronger social protection system for
children with developmental disabilities.
As the
children remain scattered across temporary arrangements, their future hangs in
uncertainty.
What
remains clear, however, is that behind every diagnosis is a child who deserves
dignity, protection, and a stable place to grow.
Culled from the Punch
