Lagos generates 13,000 metric tons of waste daily. Much of it? Discarded fashion. But where others see trash, Tunde sees canvas. Raised in Surulere, he grew up watching sneaker culture explode—yet watched equally as pairs ended up clogging gutters. “We’re a city of creators,” he insists, “so why let our style cost the earth?”
Three years ago, Tunde began salvaging Air Force 1s from junkyards. Using plant-based dyes and recycled fabrics, he transforms them into storytelling pieces. A pair featuring the Lekki-Ikoyi Bridge? Proceeds built toilets for a slum school. Another splashed with Nollywood icons? Funded a month of lagoon cleanups. This isn’t customization. It’s alchemy—waste into wonder, profit into purpose.
Your old kicks could be someone’s clean water. Ready to rewrite their story?
Meet the Artist
Tunde Adeyemi doesn’t just make sneakers—he resurrects them. The 28-year-old’s studio in Yaba smells of turmeric dye and ambition. “I started customizing kicks as a teen,” he admits, grinning. “Back then, it was just to stand out at parties. Now? It’s about standing for something.”
His turning point? A 2021 visit to the Olusosun landfill. “I saw a kid digging for scraps in a mountain of shoes,” he recalls. “They weren’t trash to him. They were survival.” Tunde went home, stripped his own Air Force 1s, and repainted them with motifs of Lagos’ bustling Balogun Market. When he auctioned them online, bids hit ₦75,000. The money funded a week of meals for that same landfill community.
Today, Tunde’s studio walls are plastered with Polaroids of clients—artists, nurses, even a local politician—holding their upcycled kicks. “These shoes carry stories,” he says, running a finger over a pair embroidered with recycled denim from Lagos’ flooded Makoko homes. “Wear them, and you’re walking in someone’s hope.”
The Process: How Old Sneakers Become Sustainable Art
Step 1: The Hunt
Tunde’s team scouts markets like Oshodi and Owambe parties for discarded Air Force 1s. “People toss them when soles split,” he says. “But the canvas? Still screaming for a second life.”
Step 2: The Purge
Sneakers are disinfected, soles repaired with recycled rubber, and laces replaced with handwoven cotton from Abeokuta. “No glue,” Tunde insists. “We stitch everything—even the Nike logo gets a remake in crushed coconut husk.”
Step 3: The Magic
Clients choose themes: “Lagos Noir” (charcoal tones, metallic slumscape silhouettes) or “Jollof Spark” (fiery reds, gold palm tree accents). Tunde sketches live on Instagram, often crowdsourcing ideas. “A nurse once asked for syringe patterns to honor her clinic,” he says. “We turned needles into abstract sun rays.”
Step 4: The Ripple
Each sale funds a “Sole Impact” token. Tokens stack: 10 pairs = a month of clean water for a Makoko family. 50 pairs = a sewage drain unclogged. “Transparency’s key,” Tunde says. Buyers get GPS pins of projects their purchase fueled.
Why Eco-Conscious Lagosians Love These Sneakers
It’s not just about looking good. It’s about feeling right.
“I wore mine to a climate rally at Freedom Park,” says Amara, a marine biologist from Lekki. “People asked, ‘Where’d you get those?’ I said, ‘From a dump.’” Her sneakers—painted with sea turtles swimming through plastic waste—aren’t just art. They’re armor. The soles? Repurposed motorcycle tires. The laces? Dyed with indigo from Ibadan. “They’re sturdy,” she laughs. “Survived three rainy seasons and a protest stampede.”
Tunde’s clients rage against fast fashion’s sameness. “Why buy mass-produced kicks from a faceless factory,” argues DJ BamBam, “when you can wear Lagos’ heartbeat on your feet?” His pair, airbrushed with a skeletal Danfo bus, sold out in minutes. “They’re alive,” he says. “Like the city.”
How to Buy
No algorithms. No shady third-party sites. Here’s the real way to snag a pair:
Walk In
Tunde’s Yaba studio opens every Thursday. Bring your old Air Force 1s (he’ll refurbish them for ₦18,000) or browse ready-to-wear designs (₦25,000–₦40,000). Cash only. “No posh markup,” he warns. “Just honest sweat.”Go Digital
Can’t brave Third Mainland Bridge traffic? DM @SneakerAlchemist on Instagram. Send your size, theme ideas, and a voice note explaining why you want them. “The story matters,” Tunde says. A nurse’s design brief got her a 20% discount.Join the Drop
Every last Sunday, Tunde auctions one “Legacy Pair” on Twitter—think: sneakers stitched with fabric from Fela’s old shirts. Bidding starts at ₦100,000. Proceeds? Fund scholarships for landfill kids. “Luxury with Lagos soul,” he calls it.
Customer Stories
“I bought mine for my daughter’s 16th birthday,” says Chidi, a mechanic in Ajegunle. He pulls out his phone, showing a pair painted with chalkboard equations. “She wants to be an engineer. Tunde put her math notes on the sides. Now when she walks, it’s like her dreams are moving.” His daughter, Ngozi, wears them to school. “Her classmates call them ‘Genius Kicks.’ Even her teacher asked for the artist’s contact.”
Then there’s Adaora, a Nigerian-American visiting Lagos for the first time. She bought a pair stitched with Ankara scraps from her late grandmother’s wrappers. “I flew back to Brooklyn with my heritage literally on my feet,” she says. “Customs officers stopped me—not for my passport, but to photograph the shoes.”
FAQs
“How long does customization take?”
Tunde: “Depends on how loud your story is. Simple designs? Two weeks. Complex ones? We’ll argue for a month. I don’t do rush jobs. Art fights deadlines.”
“Can I donate my old sneakers?”
Yes, but only Air Force 1s. Drop them at the Yaba studio. Cracked soles welcome. “Bring ten pairs,” Tunde says, “and I’ll hand-paint yours free. Fair trade for a cleaner Lagos.”
“Which charities benefit?”
Last month’s profits dug two boreholes in Makoko. Next month? Solar lamps for a school in Agege. “We don’t just cut checks,” Tunde says. “We dig, build, and stay till the job’s done. Track every project on our Telegram channel.”
“What if they don’t fit?”
Tunde: “Bring them back. We’ll adjust the soles or repurpose them into a tote bag. Waste isn’t an option here.”
Call to Action
Don’t just wear shoes—wear change. Tunde’s studio can only revive 50 pairs a month, and slots vanish faster than Lagos sunshine in rainy season.
Your step matters here.
Claim Your Pair: DM @SneakerAlchemist with “READY” and your shoe size. First come, first painted.
Donate & Earn: Drop 10 old Air Force 1s at the Yaba studio. Reward? Free custom laces dyed with beetroot pulp.
Stalk the Mission: Telegram channel “SoleStories” updates every Friday. See your money dig wells, buy schoolbooks, silence landfill fires.
“We’re not a brand,” Tunde says. “We’re a rebellion with soles.” Join before the next drop—or watch from the sidelines.
Ruth Aafa
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