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.
For now, in Yaba, that safe place is gone, leaving the children exposed to an uncertain future.
“All we need now is urgent intervention from the government and well-meaning individuals,” Jaiyesimi pleaded.
Read the full article here
