William Kayode
On Tuesday afternoon, the Afriland Tower on Broad Street, Lagos Island — a gleaming symbol of commerce and authority — turned from a hub of financial power into a chamber of death. Within hours, a fire that started in the building’s inverter room consumed floors with toxic smoke, trapping workers and visitors. By nightfall, ten people were dead, dozens injured, and Lagosians were left grappling with another preventable urban tragedy.
For Adewale, an office worker on the fifth floor, the day began like any other until the lights went out. “We just noticed the light tripped off, and it was taking unusually long to come back on,” he recalled, still gasping from smoke inhalation at Avon Medical Hospital. As the outage dragged on, panic spread, and thick black smoke suddenly filled the corridors. Adewale improvised by soaking his tie in water and pressing it to his face. He followed shadows in the choking haze, stumbling into daylight only by what he called “the grace of God.” Others were not so lucky.
Kachi, on the second floor, described how quickly the situation escalated. “Before I returned to alert my colleagues, the whole place had been covered with thick smoke,” he said. Struggling for breath, he and others smashed windows in desperation. “I almost passed out because I couldn’t breathe. How I came out was only God.”
The chaos stretched into nearby hospitals. Avon Medical, Lagos Island General, and St. Nicholas treated waves of the injured, while outside, grief engulfed families. The Federal Inland Revenue Service lost four officers, including long-serving Assistant Directors, while United Capital Plc mourned six vibrant young professionals. Among them was Olumide Oyefodunrin, who died just a day shy of his 27th birthday, and Kehinde Adeoye, a new mother who had only recently returned from maternity leave. “She used to pick me up every morning. I am so sad,” wrote a colleague in disbelief.
Relatives of another victim, a pregnant woman, arrived at the scene in anguish. Her last phone call from inside the smoke-filled tower was a farewell: she could not find an exit. Witnesses said her husband wept uncontrollably while her mother sat stunned, unable to comprehend the loss.
Anger mingled with grief as survivors and first responders pointed to systemic negligence. Residents alleged that Afriland Tower’s safety alarm and exits had long been faulty, while a crucial escape staircase was blocked during renovations. One trader, Omolara Ogunsola, lamented: “The last time there was a fire here, everyone escaped through the side staircase. When they blocked it, I wondered how people would get out in the next emergency. Now we have seen the result.”
Rescue efforts were chaotic and desperate. Passers-by broke sealed glass walls, while some workers tied ropes together to climb down. One man jumped from the sixth floor, only to die on impact. “Traders and residents did all they could,” said eyewitness Eze Obinna. “Without them, the death toll would have doubled.”
The Lagos State Fire Service confirmed the blaze originated in the inverter room, but insiders alleged the system had been failing for weeks. “The inverter exploded just last Sunday, and the same thing happened last month,” said a first responder. “They knew it was faulty, but they kept repairing it instead of replacing it. If they had acted, this would never have happened.”
As the smoke cleared, the human toll was devastating. Friends filled social media with tributes, mourning loved ones lost in the prime of their lives. From “Daddy Nicole,” a beloved FIRS director, to Rebecca Adenuga, a young wealth manager, the tragedy cut across generations and families.
President Bola Tinubu called the inferno “a painful tragedy,” while First Lady Oluremi Tinubu and Lagos Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu offered condolences. Sanwo-Olu ordered an investigation into the cause of the fire, even as critics questioned how many more lives must be lost before basic safety standards in Nigeria’s commercial capital are enforced.
For the families who sent loved ones to work that morning only to receive their bodies back by night, Afriland Tower will forever be remembered not as a shining landmark, but as a death trap born of negligence. And for Lagos, the question remains: will this latest tragedy spur reform, or simply fade into the city’s long history of preventable disasters?