By Oyo Amebo
Cities rarely announce their decline; they simply begin to loosen at the edges. A fence goes missing here, an unauthorised structure appears there, and soon enough, what was once planned with precision becomes a free-for-all.
So it was with Olubadan Estate, a parcel of land that once promised urban excellence but slowly surrendered itself to disorder, its identity chipped away by encroachment, indifference, and the quiet inevitability of neglect.
It is easy to look at such a place and assume the decay is final. Many did. But then came a man who regarded decline not as fate, but as a challenge worthy of confrontation.
Honourable Ademola Omotoso, at the helm of the Oyo State Housing Corporation, stepped into the scene without the swagger of a saviour. Instead, he came with something far more disruptive: a clear sense of responsibility anchored by discipline.
What he encountered was a territory long abandoned to opportunists and shrugged at by past administrations. Boundaries had dissolved into suggestion; structures had sprung up as though summoned by whim; and the estate had become a distorted echo of what it was meant to be.
Yet Omotoso refused the convenient temptation to treat the chaos as irreversible. His stance was firm: public land must return to public purpose.
His approach, however, was not fuelled by rage or rashness. It carried the logic of someone who knows that a thriving city is not built through force, but through order.
With the energy of Gbagi Market spilling daily into the estate’s perimeter, he recognised that the solution could not be cosmetic.
What Olubadan needed was a reconciliation of structure and commerce, an environment where the city could breathe without suffocating itself.
Omotoso’s vision, therefore, is not a sweeping sanitisation that erases human activity. It is an attempt to choreograph it.
He imagines traders operating within defined, dignified spaces; movement flowing instead of colliding; sanitation upheld without robbing the market’s pulse; and investors viewing the estate not as a warning but as an invitation. His task is to give the city back its shape without stripping it of its soul.
To reclaim the land, he has relied on transparency and firmness in equal measure. Notices were issued openly; conversations were held where avoidance might have been easier; and every boundary re-established with meticulous care.
This is not a crusade for demolition, it is a quiet restoration of the rules that protect commonwealth from private aggression.
But what gives the project its deeper resonance is its inclusiveness. Omotoso refuses the notion that urban renewal must be elitist. His plans draw in civil servants, traders, artisans, entrepreneurs, retirees, and young families.
The estate is being refashioned not as an enclave but as a shared cityscape, a place where diverse residents coexist within a modern, ordered environment.
Beneath the architecture of his vision lies a backbone of serious infrastructure: reliable drainage engineered for a changing climate, waste systems designed for modern efficiency, strengthened electricity driven partly by renewable sources, public parks offering calm within the city’s tempo, and security that relies on both technology and human vigilance. None of it is ornamental. All of it points toward dignity.
The ripple effect is already visible. Employment surges as construction advances; artisans and suppliers find steady work; neighbouring property values respond in quiet appreciation; and investors begin to hover with renewed interest. The transformation radiates beyond the estate’s borders, suggesting a wider rebirth waiting in the wings.
This revival cannot be separated from the internal transformation of the Housing Corporation itself. Under Omotoso’s leadership, it has moved from lethargy to precision, from archaic paperwork to digital records, from half-measures to accountability, from revenue trickles to substantial earnings.
The success of Ajoda New Town Estate stands as a reminder that his accomplishments are not theoretical; they exist in concrete and streetlight.
Yet Omotoso proceeds without illusions. Challenges remain, from resistance to encroachment to the unpredictability of economic tides.
But he confronts each obstacle with a steadfast calm, convinced that progress born of integrity can withstand pressure better than progress manufactured for applause.
If his work continues on its present path, Olubadan Estate will become much more than a restored district. It will serve as a declaration that when leadership chooses discipline over chaos, and public interest over complacency, a city can recover its strength, its pride, and its direction.
For Ibadan, with its vast heritage and restless ambition, this moment may well mark the threshold of a new urban future. And for Ademola Omotoso, it stands as a testament that reclaiming a piece of land is, in truth, an act of reclaiming the very idea of what a city can become.