IKEJA bomb blast: The day Lagos stood still — Remembering Nigeria’s deadliest peacetime explosion

Twenty-four years ago, on January 27, 2002, Lagos was thrown into mourning by a catastrophe so sudden and devastating that it permanently altered the city’s collective memory.

What began as a routine Sunday afternoon would end as one of the worst peacetime disasters in Nigeria’s history—the Ikeja bomb blast.

The tragedy started quietly enough with a fire at a nearby market close to the Ikeja Military Cantonment.

Within minutes, the flames spread dangerously close to the cantonment’s armoury, where large quantities of military-grade explosives had been stored for years. Then came the explosions.

A thunderous blast tore through the area, shaking buildings miles away and sending shockwaves across Lagos.

The armoury detonated, releasing shells, grenades, and ammunition into surrounding neighborhoods. Civilians, traders, students, and military personnel were caught completely off guard. Streets were shattered, homes collapsed, and entire communities were thrown into chaos.

As panic spread, residents fled in every direction, desperate to escape the relentless explosions that continued for hours. In the confusion, hundreds ran toward a nearby canal at Oke-Afa, believing it offered safety from the blasts.

Tragically, many slipped or were pushed into the water. By the time calm returned, at least 600 people—many of them children—had drowned, separated from their families in the stampede.

When dawn broke on January 28, the scale of the disaster became painfully clear. More than 1,000 people had lost their lives. Over 5,000 others were injured, and tens of thousands were left without homes.

Hospitals were overwhelmed, emergency responders stretched beyond capacity, and fires from secondary explosions continued well into the next day.

Families roamed hospitals, schools, and makeshift shelters, searching for missing loved ones amid grief and disbelief.

Unlike many national tragedies, the Ikeja blast was not caused by war, terrorism, or foreign aggression. Investigations later pointed to negligence, unsafe storage of explosives, and a failure to act on earlier warnings.

A smaller explosion at the same armoury the previous year had already raised alarm, but decisive measures were never taken.

Today, Ikeja and Oke-Afa stand as solemn reminders of the cost of institutional failure and ignored risks.

The blast reshaped conversations around urban safety, military installations in residential areas, and disaster preparedness in Nigeria.