Evelyn Agho and her infant son, Leslie, have been requested to attend the Garda National Immigration Bureau offices at Burgh Quay in Dublin next Tuesday afternoon. There is speculation this weekend that a deportation flight to Nigeria has been chartered for next week.

Leslie was admitted to Waterford Regional Hospital last November where he was diagnosed with a potentially lifethreatening disease, Mucocutaneous Lymph Node Syndrome (Kawasaki Disease).

However, rather than exercise his authority to allow the baby remain in Ireland on humanitarian grounds, McDowell's officials advised Agho's legal team that the disease can be treated with aspirin.

This advice was offered despite the view of a leading paediatric specialist that Leslie's "condition is potentially life-threatening and can lead to cardiac complications that may cause significant illness or death many years after the initial illness." Dr Cormac Breatnach, the Paediatric Specialist Registrar at Waterford Regional Hospital, has requested lifelong monitoring of Leslie's condition. In correspondence provided to the Department of Justice, Breatnach warned that it was "unlikely that such expertise would be available in Nigeria to Ms Agho's son."

However, McDowell has chosen to ignore this medical advice. No independent medical assessment was sought by the department.

Instead, the officials in the minister's department sent Evelyn Agho's solicitor a photocopied page from a medical dictionary which states, "there is no cure, but aspirin may help prevent possible heart complications. Most children make a complete recovery. In about 1% to 2% of cases, however, sudden death occurs after the acute phase of the illness, usually due to the coronary artery disease."

In a handwritten note on Evelyn Agho's file, a Department of Justice official wrote they were "not satisfied that the additional information was of a significance as to cause the minister to alter his decision."

elections due to take place next year, a move which would break the constitution and go a long way towards returning the country to dictatorship.

Obasanjo's regime has suffered somewhat due to a heightening of tensions worldwide between Muslim and Christian communities. While he won the Muslim vote in 1999 when he ran against a fellow Christian, the 2003 election was marred by religious tension, and Obasanjo lost the Islamic vote to his Muslim rival.

Indeed, communal violence is the reason given by most for fleeing their native country for Ireland. There are over 250 distinct tribes in Nigeria, and while some observers say diversity is the country's strength, it has also been its weakness. The north of Nigeria is prone to huge outbursts of violence, with recent demonstrations against the prophet Mohammad cartoons published in a Danish newspaper leaving scores dead. In total, 15,000 Nigerians have been killed in religious or ethnic fighting since 1999 - almost the same number have arrived in Ireland in the same period.

While not linked to religious tensions, the practice of female genital mutilation (FGM) is another reason cited by many Nigerians for their sudden arrival in Ireland.

Nigeria is one of 27 countries in Africa to practise FGM, a dangerous procedure which involves either the partial or full removal of the clitoris. It is estimated that 60% of women in Nigeria have undergone some form of FGM, and while no figures are available, it is certain that many thousands have died as a result.

The figures for Nigerian migrants to Ireland have already begun to taper off. For all the talk about Nigerians coming here, it is worth remembering that an estimated 7,000 British, 8,000 Europeans and 2,500 Americans arrive on Irish shores every year in search of work. For Nigerians, unable to attain visas, the asylum system prevents employment, effectively forcing them to seek state benefits.

The trend of Nigerians coming to Ireland should slow down further this year. However, the next 12 months are crucial to Nigeria's development. With communal fighting on the increase, a decision by Obasanjo to go against the constitution and seek a third term may negate any good work that has been done. Regardless of the census figures, for Nigeria it is Obasanjo's decision that will really count.

The 10 occupants of the house have no real source of income, with the exception of a pool full of catfish that can be sold on the local market.

Money sent by Irish friends in Athlone remains their main source of income. Elizabeth says there is no work in Lagos for them, and the absence of any social-welfare system has left many people in these deprived suburbs penniless.

The children attend a local school, but it is little more than an empty room where they can congregate. Israel and Bolu will both celebrate their seventh birthdays in a few months' time, although they do little celebrating these days.

Terrified children "They were so young when they left Nigeria that they could not remember it, " says Iyabo. "When they first arrived, they were terrified of the lizards and goats . . . they didn't know what they were.

They go to school here, but they keep saying to us, 'we want to go back to St Paul's school in Athlone'.

They don't understand why we are in Lagos. They keep telling everyone that they are Irish and that they are going back to Ireland soon."

The women say that the children they left behind in Ireland are staying with other Nigerians in the area. They are safe, they say, but live in constant fear of being deported. "The children ring us every now and again, " says Elizabeth. "They are safe but they have not been back to school since last March. They don't know what they are going to do.

They don't want to come back to Nigeria. My son told me that he would rather kill himself than come back here. There is no life for them in Ireland but it is still better than here."

They are angry at claims by justice minister Michael McDowell that their families were separated only because some chose to stay in Ireland and go on the run. They claim the authorities took them before their children had returned from school.

"It was not our decision to leave our children, " Elizabeth says with a raised voice. "Those children are my life, I would never leave them. I wish Michael McDowell would come out here to Lagos and see where we live, see where our children have to grow up. We can't survive out here, there is nothing for us. We can't even leave this area because if the people we were running from found out we were here, they would kill us."

Behind us, a group of seven children are playing football. The ball is completely flat, making the exercise futile. They are barefoot, which, even when playing with a flat ball, increases the likelihood of injury. A child, the smallest one of the players, hits the ground and the slow sound of sobbing begins.

Iyabo comforts him and dusts down his bruised legs.

It is almost 7pm and the sun is beginning to set over Lagos, hiding itself behind the green hills of the suburbs. Elizabeth flicks the light switch but the electricity is down. She lets out a sigh and turns to face the sun, watching the last few moments of its sudden elope.

Frightened, unwanted, and once again under the cover of complete darkness.