As the dust settles on yet another tragic stampede in Nigeria, the national psyche is battered with grief and introspection. Over the past few days, Ibadan, Anambra, and Abuja have borne witness to horrifying events that should make every Nigerian pause and reflect on the grim realities of life in this country. Children, the most innocent among us, lost their lives in Ibadan’s funfair chaos. In Anambra, the rush for rice distribution spiralled into disaster, and in Abuja, a crowd scrambling for palliatives ended with the loss of at least ten lives. These stampedes are not isolated incidents; they are symptoms of a systemic rot in governance and society’s inability to shield its most vulnerable.
What is development if not the ability of a society to provide its people with dignity and a sense of security? The philosopher Seers argued that development is meaningless if it does not eradicate poverty, reduce inequality, and create employment. Yet, in Nigeria, these ideals are mere mirages. State governments, with their glaring incompetence, have failed to organize simple public events without triggering chaos. The Federal Government, always eager to tout hollow GDP growth figures and token naira appreciations, continues to lie with statistics, ignoring the lived realities of inflation, poverty, and the unbearable cost of living. The tragic irony is that these stampedes are a violent manifestation of the disconnect between government statistics and ground realities.
A Carnival of Chaos
Ibadan’s children’s funfair was supposed to be a day of joy. Parents brought their little ones to laugh, play, and create memories. Instead, it became a scene of horror. The sight of parents clutching their lifeless children, caught in a crush that should never have happened, is a damning indictment of the state’s inability to manage its affairs. Crowd control measures, basic first aid facilities, and orderly event planning—all absent. The state government, which ought to ensure safety, has once again displayed its talent for negligence.
This is not the first time we have seen such carelessness. Recall the “free-for-all” recruitment drives by state agencies in recent years that turned stadiums into death traps. The pattern is clear: government-organized events, especially those catering to the common man, are often poorly planned and recklessly executed.
Governance here is like hosting a feast without plates, cutlery, or seating arrangements; you invite chaos by design. The Ibadan tragedy underscores a simple yet profound truth: lives are cheapened by the lack of care, competence, and accountability.
Hunger Games in Anambra
If the Ibadan tragedy speaks to mismanagement, the Anambra stampede exposes something even more sinister—the desperation bred by hunger. When the government announced the distribution of free rice, people flocked to the venue in droves. What unfolded next was a macabre version of the “Hunger Games,” where survival depends on how much you can push and shove.
Rice. Just rice. It was enough to draw multitudes, some of whom never made it back home. The question we must ask is why rice distribution was needed in the first place. Why is hunger so pervasive in a country with abundant arable land, oil wealth, and human resources? The answer lies in systemic failure—a failure to create jobs, control inflation, and ensure food security. Yet, state governments in Nigeria often appear more interested in photo-ops and short-term optics than in long-term solutions.
Imagine a family of five standing in line under the scorching sun, waiting for their turn to collect a bag of rice. Imagine the mother, already frail from skipped meals, collapsing as the crowd surges forward. This isn’t a scene from a dystopian movie; it’s today’s Nigeria, where the basics of survival turn citizens into contestants in a deadly race.
Abuja’s Palliative Palaver
And then there is Abuja, the federal capital, where palliatives meant to cushion the economic blow of subsidy removal turned into instruments of death. A crowd of impoverished Nigerians gathered to receive what is rightfully theirs but was met with chaos and carnage. Over ten lives were lost, and countless others were injured.
The Federal Government’s response to these tragedies is as predictable as it is hollow. Ministers will offer perfunctory condolences, and promises of investigations will be made. But just as quickly, the incidents will fade from public discourse, replaced by another tragedy born from the same roots. Meanwhile, the government’s narrative machine will continue to churn out GDP statistics and inflation figures that mean nothing to the market woman who can no longer afford to stock her stall or the teacher who hasn’t been paid in months.
Statistics are the government’s preferred weapon of deceit. Like a magician’s trick, they distract us from reality. “Nigeria’s GDP grew by 3% last quarter,” they announce, while conveniently ignoring the inflation rate that erodes the purchasing power of the average Nigerian. They celebrate a minor appreciation of the naira, but what good is a stronger currency if people are starving?
Stampedes: The Real GDP of Nigeria
The tragedies in Ibadan, Anambra, and Abuja paint a different kind of GDP—Grief, Desperation, and Poverty. This is the real currency of Nigeria today. While the government quotes Seers’ development metrics in global forums, they fail to meet even the most basic requirements of governance at home. The state and federal governments are like builders who focus on constructing grand facades while the foundation crumbles beneath.
What makes a society truly developed? Is it skyscrapers, expressways, and tech hubs, or is it the ability of its citizens to live without fear of being crushed in a stampede? The answer should be obvious, yet here we are, debating it in a nation where survival often feels like a cruel lottery.
The Nigerian government, at all levels, must confront this painful reality. First, state governments must understand that governance is not a series of public relations stunts. Events like rice distribution and children’s fairs require meticulous planning, crowd control measures, and above all, a focus on human safety. Secondly, the Federal Government must stop hiding behind numbers and start addressing the lived realities of Nigerians. Food security, job creation, and affordable living should be their priorities—not GDP growth that benefits only a select few.
Lastly, we as citizens must demand better. We cannot accept a status quo where the simple act of standing in line becomes a life-threatening ordeal. Governance is a social contract, and the current state of affairs is a breach of that contract.
Final Words
The stampedes in Ibadan, Anambra, and Abuja are tragedies that should never have happened. They are emblematic of a nation where the gap between the governed and those who govern is vast and widening. But these events also offer an opportunity for change—if only we have the will to seize it.
Governments must learn to organize public events with the care and precision they demand. Civil society must hold leaders accountable, using these tragedies as rallying points for systemic change. And the media must refuse to let these stories fade into obscurity, continually reminding the nation of the lives lost and the lessons unlearned.
We owe it to the victims—the children in Ibadan, the mothers in Anambra, and the breadwinners in Abuja—to do better. If development means anything at all, it must mean ensuring that no Nigerian ever loses their life in a preventable stampede. Until then, the tragic irony of stampedes will continue to define Nigeria—a nation rich in resources but impoverished in humanity.
