By
Moshood Isamotu
If Alfred Bernhard Nobel, the Swedish inventor who instituted the prestigious global Award, the Nobel Prize, were alive on January 27, 2002, he probably would have had more regrets about one of his revolutionary 355 inventions. Alfred invented dynamites that propelled discoveries of high-profile war arsenals (bombs), which changed the human destructive capacity forever. About 130 years after his death on December 10, 1896, his weapons of mass destruction are still speaking for him on war fronts across the globe in gargantuan proportions he probably never envisaged.
Since Alfred invented the lethal instruments, the knowledge and their application have been liberalized and well-simplified. With automation, they are now being deployed like toys at the least provocation by lesser men Alfred never thought would have reason to touch his invention.
In his midlife, the ascetic Alfred was largely defined by his explosives. He was notoriously referred to as ‘merchant of death’ because of the annihilation potency of this invention. However, towards the end of his life, he laboured to rewrite and sway his history. He instituted Nobel Laureate Awards to advance the course of humanity as a way to neutralize the colossal harm his explosives would be inflicting on living things irretrievably. However, it is already late. Even with Nobel Awards, the explosives are now on the freehold, as ready tools of engagement during menial disagreements and conflicts before resorting to détente.
Whether for good or ill, Alfred’s weapons have contributed to the depopulation of the world.
On Sunday, January 27, 2002, in Lagos, Nigeria, some of the by-products of Alfred’s inventions – bombs- exploded and pushed over 1,000 residents to their untimely graves. It was the accidental detonation of a large stock of military high explosives at a storage facility at Ikeja Army Barrack Cantonment, which was referred to as the Lagos armoury explosion. The billion-naira bombs, abandoned and made idle for too long, had to empty themselves in fury.
According to Live Science Plus, accidental ammunition explosions are frequent global occurrences. The Lagos explosions only joined the list of some of the biggest explosions in the world, which include the Trinity blast, the first atomic bomb in history. Dubbed “the gadget,” it was detonated at the Trinity Site near Alamogordo, N.M., in 1945, exploding with a force of roughly 20 kilotons of TNT. Others include Wanggongchang Explosion (China, 1626), an accidental ignition at a gunpowder armory in Beijing that killed an estimated 20,000 people; the Brescia Gunpowder Explosion (Italy, 1769), which occurred after lightning struck a bastion storing 90 tonnes of gunpowder, killing approximately 3,000 people; Halifax Explosion (Canada, 1917), considered the largest non-nuclear accidental man-made explosion. It occurred when the SS Mont-Blanc, a munitions ship, collided with another vessel, resulting in a blast that killed roughly 2,000 people and many others.
Anyway, how many Nigerians, and even Lagosians, still remember the Ikeja Bomb Blasts of January 27, 2002? That day, the ground swallowed over 1,000 lives, mostly young and adults, in one fell swoop. Maybe those who lost their loved ones in the tragedy and those who pass through the Oke-Afa canal, where a cenotaph in memory of the lost souls was built.
Ironically, the bombs chose Sunday, a holy day, to vent their anger on the high-density Oshodi population. Even more worrisome was the fact that people died out of panic, confusion, and anxiety by herding to the ‘swamp of death’ located at the Oke-Afa canal, albeit ignorantly.
For about six hours, the sky on that sunny day suddenly turned chemically smoky, far from the familiar industrial smog. As from around 2 pm, the shockwave from the explosion shattered the peace of Lagos when people were supposed to be watching movies, relaxing, attending town meetings, or preparing for the new week.
I was a witness to the deadly rage and narrowly escaped being a direct victim in the course of running into safety, like others who perished. I lived in the densely populated Mafoluku-Oshodi then, where the explosives directed their warheads.
I was awakened by the repeated heavy blasts and vibrations that shook everything in the building. I ran out, having only underwear on. People had clustered and watched in awe as several strange objects, such as laboratory cylinders, competed in the sky, falling and exploding, with deafening sounds, accompanied by deleterious organic compounds and iron fillings. The bright Sunday had seemingly turned overcast.
No matter where you stood, you would feel as if the objects were coming to land on your head. We occasionally ran into the house to take cover, but the repeated sounds of bombs and flying objects in the rooms forced us out.
The blind, deaf, and dumb also understood there was imminent danger. No one could say what it was or where it was coming from. At this time, tall people preferred to have reduced height, and short people preferred to be tall to see what was happening.
The repeated question on everyone’s lips was ‘What could this be?’ Parents do not know what to tell their kids. In the midst of this, visibility was getting impaired as thick, suffocating smoke enveloped. Many gasped for breath from the effects of foul fumes. At this point, people started thinking with their feet. There was no time to engage in analytical thinking and reasoning.
Such had never been seen or experienced in Nigeria before. So, no one had a clue or a possible explanation except people at the Ikeja Army Barracks, the munitions depot. Mobile phone (relatively new then), radio, and television network had all collapsed due to the effects of the bomb blasts. The great albatross was a lack of information from any authentic source on the strange incident. At that moment, information simply equals life, and that was why the lack of it cut short many lives.
Lagos was definitely under attack, but from where or by whom, nobody knew. Since nature abhors a vacuum, bizarre rumors took over. Some said it was a coup; others argued it was Bin Laden’s al-Qaeda invasion. Some Christians said it was a rapture that just took place, and anyone around had missed it, marking the commencement of the Armageddon. And you could not blame anyone for believing such.
Everywhere in Lagos was affected, with varying degrees depending on the distance from the source. Commuters on the 3rd Mainland Bridge felt the vibration of the bridge and thought it was about to cave in. Many, as far as Ikorodu, Epe, Badagry, Ota, and others, felt the impact. Some witnessed their household properties and window glass falling off due to ‘ghosts’ invasion, like the ones we see in Nollywood movies.
In thousands, Oshodi residents, the most affected, gregariously herded towards Muritala International Airport and Ajao Estate without a clear direction. It was more than what you see in war zones. Children outpaced adults on the streets. Husbands abandoned wives for not catching up. Pastors abandoned the pulpits mid-way. The old and sick were not left out in the run to safety, while those too weak were abandoned by their loved ones.
At first, we headed towards Airport Road for cover, but changed direction when we realized that the gas pipelines in the axis would not make the place safe. We all sheepishly redirected towards Ajao Estate, onward to Isolo, following no one. Ignorance is costly. The sound of each explosion pushed us to move fast. As we moved, people matched on Naira notes and lost interest in them, as the world has come to an ‘end’. Many abandoned their cars by the road and started running.
To cross from Ajao Estate to Isolo – Ejigbo side, there is Oke-Afa Canal, a concealed swampy pond, covered with grasses that eventually swallowed up over a thousand people that night. Because it was dark and with a large crowd, people rushed into it, and many sank immediately, and with more pushing behind, the death toll increased.
I was lucky as I crossed the same Canal, filled with thick, dark industrial water, before it got discharged into the open field that turned swampy, where people died. As I was passing on the bank of the canal, I saw and heard people crying for help. But it was a case of ‘love yourself before thy neighbor’. Many who attempted to help were also dragged down and perished.
Indeed, like drugs, expired bombs are more terrific in destruction and bad messengers when out of control or mishandled.
Respite only came when the radio announcements for calm came. But it was too late. In about 6 hours, Lagos had lost over 1,000 residents.
Long after, the government launched an enquiry, which blamed the Nigerian Army for failing to properly maintain the munitions depot when instructed to do so in 2001. George Emdin, the then commander of the Ikeja base, on January 28, 2002, while expressing apologies, said that “some efforts were being made in the recent past to try to improve the storage facility, but this accident happened before the high authorities could do what was needed”. Like many similar sad occurrences in the past, that was how everything ended.
We can only wish that the government had taken precautions to prevent such a calamity in all spheres.
As we mark the anniversary of the gory experience, it is not too late for Lagos State to declare January 27 as Day of Mourning, to be marked annually like Canada’s April 28, marked as National Day to honor workers killed or injured on the job.
May the souls of those who perished in the Lagos armoury explosion continue to rest in peace. May God save humanity from such calamity again.
Moshood Isamotu is a public affairs commentator
