10 millennials tell Neusroom what they remember about January 27, 2002, Ikeja bomb explosion
Twenty years have now passed since the bomb explosion at the Ikeja military cantonment in Lagos on January 27, 2002.
The explosions triggered a stampede of fleeing residents in a canal at Ajao Estate, along the international airport road, leading to the death of more than 700 people, with several others missing.
This is the story of the disaster as told through 10 millennials who were witnesses.
Adeyemi Adeleke – I got lost in the crowd and couldn’t find my way home
I was 12 years old then, returning from the market where I had gone to help my mom get some stuff when I heard the blast.
While everybody was running to save their lives, I couldn’t find my way home, so I joined the fleeing crowd. Fortunately, I met with my young sister at Oke-Afa where the unimaginable incident that took many lives happened.
Felix Adelowo: I turned back when I saw the body of a little girl evacuated from the canal
When we heard the first explosion sound, we all thought the transformer blew as that was what we were used to. Not far from the first sound, we started hearing the recurring sound of the explosion.
After a while, we saw a mammoth crowd running through our street (Olaiya Street), peddling all sorts of rumours, informing us that some few streets not too far from us are on fire already, they need to run for our dear lives.
I left home with two of my siblings, ran to our mum at Sobokun Street, very close to Olowora. When the blasts hit harder, I had to move separately from my siblings as the whole community was in disarray
I joined the crowd moving toward Ajao Estate, we had no idea of where we were going. Finally, I got to the swampy canal very late in the night. All I knew was that I was helped by someone to scale through the muddy part of the area, but I couldn’t proceed to the river to swim through. I saw a little girl brought out of the river dead and that properly signaled a warning to me about the depth of the river.
It was a bitter and grave experience. May the souls of those who lost their lives keep resting, Amen.
Hughes Ekpei: In the middle of the chaos, my father went to Ikeja to take photos
My family and I were watching a programme on TV when we heard lots of people running. The house (I stayed at Shyllon street, Palmgrove back then) was shaking heavily. Then we started seeing smoke and fire up ahead.
My mum rounded us up saying we would go visit our aunty at Festac, but my dad was hesitant. My dad, being a journalist at AFP, was called by the office to start heading to Ikeja that night to take pictures. It was such a scary event.
Mbanubi Uche: I almost got drowned in the canal with my little sister
On Sunday, 27 January 2002 after taking my normal Sunday rice, I was almost going for an evening fellowship when I suddenly heard a mighty sound first like militant gunshots preparing for war. I fell from my sitting position to the ground, before I could say, Jack, the clouds have turned black and red, I looked outside the compound and saw a lot of people.
I ran inside to beckon to my parents who were already panicking, everything hung on the wall inside the living room had fallen flat, broken into pieces. I took to my heels leaving them behind, I picked my little sister along with me on this unknown destination race out of fear of the unknown and eagerness to survive at all cost.
People were running. I entered that dirty canal and almost drowned with my little sister, but I thank God I survived.
Oluwaseun Fakorede
I was taking a nap after eating and arriving from church with my mom, elder brother and sister when we suddenly heard a loud sound, followed by multiple explosions that blew out part of our ceiling. It first felt like a dream. We all ran out of the house, leaving the house open without packing anything. As we stepped out of the house, I saw a lot of people on the street. I had never seen such a large crowd on the streets of Lagos before. We all faced Isolo, Mafoluku, towards Ajao Estate.
Around 7:30 pm, my brother and I got to the Oke-Afa canal. We stopped, we were just looking. We couldn’t even swim to save our lives and it was already dark. Some people were already shouting that we should not go near the canal because people were drowning. It was like the end of the road for us. We were all lost on ideas for directions, when the explosion stopped, we left Oke-Afa and returned home. At that time, the crowd returning was not as much as the crowd that fled their homes. My elder brother and I met my mum, my dad, and my sister at home. That will be the first time in my entire life I will run that kilometre back and forth and never feel anything.
We later found out it was a bomb blast after watching the news. We stayed awake all night sharing our experience while speculating if there would be another explosion.
Reflecting on the incident after 20 years, I believe if it was in the era of social media the casualties would have been minimal
Ronke Oyediran: My panicking mum went to Oke-Afa and the mortuary to search for us.
I lived very close to the cantonment when the bomb blast happened. On that Sunday, I was in the compound when we heard the blasts. Our house started shaking. We thought it was an earthquake, and I ran upstairs to see from my window what was happening.
It was at the third sound that my dad of blessed memory told us to pick a few of our clothes that we were travelling. As soon as we heard another blast, my parents and I ran in different directions. We even left my sister who was sick, but my cousin later found her and carried her while he was running. Unfortunately for them, they found themselves in the Oke-Afa canal where someone eventually dragged both of them out of the canal.
I, on the other hand, ran through the night with a girl living on my street and we later got to Festac barracks where the army ushered us in and we stayed till the next morning. The next morning after getting home, I was told my mum had gone to Oke-Afa and the mortuary to look for us.
Fortunately for us, we all returned safely, but we lost our house. We left for Ikotun for a week only to resume school and find out that Ikeja Grammar School was destroyed. We were relocated to another school where we had only afternoon classes for a long time.
Samson Okunola: Some of our neighbours never returned
I was about eight years old when it happened so, I can’t vividly remember the incident, but I remember that I was inside our one-room apartment at Mafoluku with my pregnant mother when we heard the blasts. She was quite calm, but I saw fear in her eyes. Our house was a 2-storey building, and we stayed on the second floor, so we could see the flames from our balcony, while we stood there, we also saw people running, so she began packing a few things for both of us. She strapped me to her back and we ran downstairs where we found a neighbour who owned a commercial bus. He asked us to get in and drove us to his family house at Lagos Island where we assed the night.
When we arrived home the next day, the explosion had ripped off part of our roof. Some of our neighbours who fled during the explosion didn’t return. My mom’s friend who lived on Brown Street in Oshodi also lost her father to the explosion.
Taiwo Akinlalu: The incident showed me the effect of fear and negligence of government
On the day of the blast, I was privileged to be with my mum and siblings. For the first time, there was a stampede at the Mafoluku road leading to Aviation Estate, it was a terrible experience.
We eventually got to a church where we hid till around 8 pm then we returned home. On getting home, the whole street was deserted, doors were left open, people had fled for safety, around 9 pm that night we heard a cry from a neighbor opposite our house, her son, Tochukwu was not back. He went with a brother to the Oke-Afa canal and drowned.
The incident showed me the effect of fear, the negligence of government in handling explosives and the unusual strength that can jump on a man in the face of death.
Yusuf Omotayo – My mom’s friend kept muttering ‘the military have taken over again’
I don’t remember what time it was, but all I knew was I had to take a mother’s friend’s child who I was babysitting back home. It was a few minutes walk from our wn house located at the Trust-in-God bus stop in the Agege area of Lagos.
A few meters from the house, I felt the ground vibrate dangerously, and pandemonium broke. I gripped the young girl’s hand and pushed through the chaos around, my heart beating fast. People were screaming, and the young girl joined too. We heard explosions, sometimes loud and seeming near, while in some cases, it sounded faint except for the vibration of the earth, which was consistent.
I met my mother’s friend outside the compound just about to leave for our house. She was relieved and quickly rushed us inside her apartment, closed the door, turned off the light, and drew the curtain close. The explosion continued for a long time. My mum’s friend kept muttering to herself as she paced around that the military had taken over again. She would stop, kneel and pray for a few minutes before continuing the pacing.
After what seemed like a very long time, we heard a knock at the door. My mother had come to pick me up, and we returned home. The streets were deserted except for groups of people gathered in front of their houses. The fear was palpable. At home, our Alfa had gathered people for a prayer session, and I joined them as we prayed for whatever evil was happening not to befall us. Many people were convinced it was a military coup. It was difficult to sleep all night as the explosion carried on till morning. We ultimately knew from television news that the explosions we heard in Agege came from the cantonment in Ikeja.
