The work of a vulcaniser is not unlike that of a surgeon, says the Nigerian photographer Andrew Esiebo. Armed with precision tools, vulcanisers across Nigeria extend the lives of tyres otherwise destined for the scrap heap.
“Vulcanisers are like doctors for tyres because the way they work is like surgery,” says Esiebo, who has chronicled how used tyres are being repurposed in Lagos in a photography series exhibited as part of the British Academy-funded Pneuma-City project.
Vulcanisers see their role as keeping the city moving
“In Nigeria, a tyre never quite dies. It’s made from non-degradable material. However, even when the tyre is out of the car, there’s still a use for it.”
Esiebo’s work shows repurposed tyres scattered across the city, where they are used as flower pots, football goalposts, punch bags, makeshift tables, swings in a park and even seating in trendy bars. A company in Nigeria, he says, is recycling waste tyres to become floor tiles for a playground.
Heaps of tyres at a sorting site in the Mile 12 area of Lagos
Esiebo’s photos are shown in the headquarters of the vulcanisers’ association in the Lagos neighbourhood of Mushin. The association’s motto is “no tyre, no movement”.
The photos are simultaneously being exhibited in seven vulcaniser workshops across the city, curated by the Lisbon-based Inês Vallee.
“It was a way of pushing photography beyond the conventional space,” Esiebo says.
One of Andrew Esiebo’s outdoor exhibitions
A freelance photographer based in Lagos, Esiebo documents the rapid development of urban Nigeria. He started shooting the project in 2019 and continued until 2023.
Vulcanisers play “an essential role” in prolonging a tyre’s life in a country with a high cost of living, where “changing a tyre is not always easy”, Esiebo says. Lagos is a city of 20 million people, with roughly 2m cars on its roads.
At a community gym in the Abesan area of Lagos, waste tyres are used as fences
Scrap tyres are a global problem, with some western countries dumping them in developing nations such as India in a phenomenon dubbed as “waste colonialism”.
Dr David Garbin, from the University of Kent, is intrigued by the imported old European tyres (known as tokunbo) getting a second life in Lagos. Many get discarded and rescued by artists, he says, whose sculptures sometimes are acquired by galleries in Europe.
Tyres are used as swings and even seats in Lagos, a city of 20 million people
Echoing Esiebo, Garbin says vulcanisers are doctors because “they cure and fix” the tyres, but also because they diagnose tyre conditions and advise drivers when to replace them.
“Many vulcanisers we spoke to shared their experience of getting seriously injured by exploding tyres,” he adds.
A Mushin vulcaniser uses an iron ‘mount-demount’ tool to remove a faulty tyre for repair
A display of vulcanisers’ tools
“The work is challenging, with low and unpredictable income. Vulcanisers endure long hours on busy roadsides, exposed to pollution and heavy traffic, without formal protections such as pensions or health insurance. Despite the precarious nature of their work, they consider themselves essential to keeping the city moving.
“They ‘patch’ the city, enabling daily mobility, especially for affordable public transport like the iconic danfos (yellow buses) and okadas (motorcycle taxis).”
A tyre’s material resilience, Garbin says, “is both a blessing and curse, allowing non-biodegradable tyres to cling to the urban fabric, potentially becoming breeding grounds for malarial mosquitoes or blocking waterways and drains.”
Tyres are used as stepping stones in a muddy street
Esiebo’s favourite photo of the series is one showing “a guy having a nap on a roll of tyres”. “That shows the ingenuity of it,” he says.
“We upcycle almost everything in Nigeria,” he adds. “Organically, we have a culture of upcycling; it’s our way of life. It’s just that we don’t put the word to it.”
Esiebo’s favourite photo of the series
