Weeks became months as barges crossed toward Banana Island. In Lagos, fewer than 20% of luxury high-rise projects announced over the past decade reach completion; rising importation costs, forex instability, and inflation have drained many businesses before a single shipment arrives, a struggle most entrepreneurs know all too well. Yet amid the hum of generators and floodlights that refused to sleep, one project surged forward. It wasn’t just another tower; it was a statement to the market, to skeptics, and to the entrenched order of old money and inherited privilege.

But this one sounded different—bolder, almost defiantly audacious. A tower was announced by a young boy from Agege who refused to wait for permission. He named it after a Medici. Something about this Sujimoto project was a dare. Who builds a monument in a neighborhood designed for oil barons, billionaires, and the politically anointed elites.

The Tower that Shouldn’t Exist

Many called it impossible. No Nigerian developer had the pedigree, the patience, or the audacity to pull it off. And yet, today, standing 15 storey as Banana Island’s Tallest and Most luxurious Residential building, LucreziaBySujimoto doesn’t just exist — it dominates

For some, it was arrogance. For others, madness. But for Sijibomi Ogundele, it was destiny dressed in concrete and glass. Born in Agege, where survival often overshadowed ambition, he was worlds away from the manicured lawns of Banana Island. Privilege was not handed to him—audacity was his inheritance. Paris sharpened his tastes, Japan refined his discipline, and Nigeria gifted him street-level instincts. When he returned, he came back not as a hustler, but as a disruptor.

“Don’t allow anyone to use their bread to lick your soup,” he would often say. “No one can design your destiny except you. Whatever the Almighty has for everyone will surely come to pass.” Those words became the philosophy behind a project that would not only test the limits of engineering but also the patience of Lagos itself.

He studied the market and saw something glaring: Lagos had mansions, yes. It had villas, yes. But it didn’t have monuments. Nothing that could sit comfortably on the same page as Dubai’s Marina or New York’s Billionaire’s Row.

And so he did the unthinkable: he promised Lagos a monument. He called it Lucrezia—named after Lucrezia de’ Medici, the Renaissance heiress, symbol of ambition, beauty, and power. It was both a homage and a statement: Africa, too, could birth its own Medici-class landmarks

Betting on the Impossible

When the Lucrezia plans first leaked, investors laughed. “A Rolls Royce in a traffic jam,” one scoffed. But a few visionaries saw what others could not: foundations deeper than most bridges, pile caps heavier than myths, and a young man betting his name and empire on one address.

To birth Lucrezia, the ground itself had to be conquered. Twenty-five thousand cubic metres of soil were ripped from the earth. In its place rose 11,500 cubic metres of C40 concrete, poured into some of the largest pile caps in the world. Each pile—900 mm wide, 45 metres deep—drove into Lagos bedrock like an oath. 1,470 trucks delivered their cargo, forging a foundation so unyielding it silenced even the loudest doubters. Where others saw mud, Sujimoto built a monument.

Every inch upward was war, but while cynics mocked, Lucrezia kept climbing. Post-tensioned slabs—used in the Middle East’s tallest towers—became Sujimoto’s signature, signaling that Lagos would no longer borrow glory; it would export it.

What would take another construction company 18 months to achieve, Sujimoto did in just 5.5 months, raising the building from the first slab to the 15th. This made Sujimoto the fastest construction company in Nigeria to deliver a structure of this scale in such a record time—a feat that left skeptics reeling and competitors taking notice.

Early investors were called reckless. Today, they are prophets. Units purchased at $850,000 in 2020 have surged to over $2.5 million, with projections above $3 million—delivering more than 200% ROI. Owning Lucrezia is no longer a transaction, it is initiation into a rarefied circle.

Then reality struck: forex whiplash, port delays, and inflation that devoured budgets mid-project. Import windows slipped; invoices ballooned before shipments even docked. At one point, over 400 containers of luxury materials sat trapped in bureaucratic gridlock while clearing costs for a single 40-foot container skyrocketed from ₦4 million to ₦24 million. The math threatened collapse, but the vision refused to bend.

Forex shocks, port delays, and inflation threatened collapse, yet Lucrezia surged upward. Salaries were cleared even as steel and glass prices climbed skyward. Where other projects stalled, Lucrezia became defiance in concrete form—a monument to audacity.

A Building of Many Firsts

Lucrezia stopped being just a building and became an experience. Africa’s first tower with a Glass Reinforced Concrete façade, an interactive lobby, and a virtual golf bar hosting 2,500 global courses—all curated to elevate luxury beyond expectation. Residents enjoy a private IMAX cinema, Crestron smart home automation, EV charging stations, and full automation across lights, blinds, and security.

The 22 ultra-luxurious residences are spacious 4-bedroom maisonettes, each 600 sqm, with high-end finishes and private car parks. Slated for Q1 2026, Lucrezia is a living case study where design, technology, and ambition converge. Its penthouse redefines luxury: triple-storey sanctum, private elevator, rooftop pool, Swarovski chandeliers, Bang & Olufsen sound systems, and a Michelin-starred chef on call. Here, marble is a manifesto; doors do not just open—they announce.

A boy born into modest means, who hawked souvenirs in France and learned resilience alongside his mother in Oke-Arin market, now reshapes Banana Island’s skyline. “If no one will give you a seat at the table, create your own,” Ogundele declares. Lucrezia is that declaration in steel and glass.

The Legend Continues

Sujimoto is not done. LeonardoBySujimoto, a 37-storey waterfront icon, is next—fusing Renaissance artistry with contemporary innovation. Sujimoto Smart City Abuja follows, a “Mini Banana Island” live-work-play ecosystem blending housing, luxury, and technology.

Where Lucrezia showed the world what a tower could be, Leonardo redefines off-plan opportunity, and Smart City Abuja proves a city can bear the signature of audacity. Yet nothing replaces Lucrezia—not in form, not in symbolism, not in the way it dragged possibility from doubt and set it in stone and glass.

At dusk, when the lagoon grows quiet and fishermen cast their nets beneath the Ikoyi Link bridge, their eyes no longer follow the hum of barges. Instead, they rest on a tower that gleams like prophecy fulfilled. The same men who once asked, “Who is this boy from Agege?” now point to the skyline and murmur, “That is Lucrezia. The tower that shouldn’t exist.”

Tomorrow is far. Lucrezia is here.

Dr. Sijibomi Ogundele is the Group Managing Director of Sujimoto Holdings, the Czar of Luxury Real Estate Development, and the mastermind developer behind the renowned Giuliano. Our other audacious projects, such as the most sophisticated building in Banana Island, LucreziaBySujimoto, the grandiose Sujimoto Twin Tower, the tallest twin towers in Africa; the regal Queen Amina by Sujimoto, a monument to royal affluence; the magnificent high-rise LeonardoBySujimoto; the Sujimoto Farm; an advanced farm estate system that incorporates housing, farm hospitals, hotels, and markets within an ecosystem, creating opportunities for agro-tourism and affordable housing., among other projects that have etched an indelible imprint on Nigeria’s skylines, a testament to Sujimoto’s unrivalled mastery of modern-day engineering.