The ghost of Kano markets: Is Abuja building the same fire trap?
The images from Kano’s Singer Market are seared into the national consciousness: a raging inferno, helpless traders wailing on the sidelines and millions in goods and years of dedication and resilience all reduced to ash in a flash, all leaving years of dreams in ashes. Official reports cited an electrical spark as the reason for […]
The images from Kano’s Singer Market are seared into the national consciousness: a raging inferno, helpless traders wailing on the sidelines and millions in goods and years of dedication and resilience all reduced to ash in a flash, all leaving years of dreams in ashes. Official reports cited an electrical spark as the reason for the fire, which became unstoppable, the reason firefighters could only watch from a distance. And yesterday, there was another fire incident at another market in Kano.
Traders had sprawled beyond their allocated spaces, transforming vital pathways into labyrinthine corridors. When the fire trucks arrived, they had no access as their way and every available entrance route was blocked. The trap had been set long before the first spark happened.
In Nigeria, most major markets are congested or overcrowded, with traders and customers all scrambling for the slightest space to showcase goods or negotiate the price of an item. The nation’s capital city isn’t left out of this growing and challenging menace of congested markets, which silently poses danger to both traders and customers. Today, a tour through the Federal Capital Territory’s (FCT) major markets—Wuse, Utako and Kado by Weekend Trust shows that the same trap is being built in plain sight. While some markets have reformed, others are replicating the exact conditions that turned Singer Market into a funeral pyre for livelihoods nurtured over years.
The congestion in Abuja’s Wuse, Karimo, and Karu markets presents a vivid tableau of chaotic commerce, driven by a fundamental conflict between available infrastructure and the relentless tide of human enterprise. The scene is a complex layering of formal and informal trade, all competing for the same limited space, creating an environment that is perpetually on the brink of gridlock. This situation mirrors the severe congestion that has long plagued Kano’s Singer Market, a comparison that is both apt and telling.
The primary issue is the overflow of commerce from designated areas into every available inch of public space by even traders who own or rent proper shops within the market compound contribute to the congestion. They often allocate additional, informal stalls for themselves in the already narrow walkways to display surplus goods or attract customers away from their main stores. This practice shrinks the passageways, turning what should be thoroughfares into extensions of their businesses.
Petty traders’ domain
Our correspondent’s visits to the markets showed the periphery and along the roadsides leading into the markets – a vast army of petty traders. In places like Wuse Market, these vendors operate in a precarious environment, balancing their goods while constantly watching for taskforce raids. They spread their wares on mats, tables, or simply on the ground, claiming the sidewalks and forcing pedestrians and sometimes vehicles into the roads. The “sideways” trading creates a formidable barrier for anyone trying to enter or leave the market.
“This market is growing, but it is on the roadside. Petty traders set up by the road because markets located away from main roads suffer from low visibility and customer traffic,” Joke Ibrahim, a trader at Karimo market said.
Patrick, a second-hand clothing trader (shop owner) said, “Fire? Don’t remind me. We have lived in fear since the last fire here. But what is the option? The market is growing, but the space is not. My competitors on the roadside are selling the same thing as myself. If I pull my goods back into the shop, I am giving them my customers. We are all just trying to survive. The walkway is public, yes, but in this market, public space is for business. The government talks about expanding the road, but we need them to expand the market itself.”
Nkechi Mary, a petty trader selling provisions by the walkway said, “Which taskforce? They come, we run; they go, we return. It is my daily struggle. I cannot afford the deposit for a shop, not even for a proper stall inside. My husband is sick and I have four children to feed. This is my office. See, I put my tomatoes and peppers here so that everyone passing must see them. Sometimes a woman in a car will stop and buy. But when the wheelbarrow men come with heavy loads, they knock my things and we quarrel. It is not easy, but what can I do? If I go inside, nobody will know I exist.”
Abubakar Idris a wheelbarrow pusher also said, “It is a fight! You must have eyes at the back of your head. You are pushing a heavy bag of rice, so you cannot stop quickly. You are shouting ‘pardon me! pardon me!’ but nobody moves. The women with their goods on the ground will abuse you if you step near them. The drivers will blow their horn if you slow them down. But the customer is waiting for his goods at the car park, and he will not pay if I am late. We are the engine of this market, but we are treated like smoke.”
Wuse Market
At a first glance, Wuse Market offers a glimmer of hope. Here, the memory of fire is fresh enough to have spurred genuine change.
Ibrahim Dan Ali, a trader whose block was affected by fire last year in the market, recalled the chaos vividly: It happened just last year. If you look at the next block, that is exactly where it started.”
Asked if congestion was to blame, his response was quick: “Absolutely! There was so much traffic (congestion). Before one could put out the fire, it had already become a big thing.”
In the aftermath, the authorities moved decisively. Roads were expanded, illegal attachments cleared, and most critically, the fire service now maintains a permanent station within the market.
“Now, thank God the Fire Service has their trucks right here. They brought their station inside,” Dan Ali said, gesturing towards the emergency exit where trucks sit ready.
A Fire Service driver stationed there confirmed that they now have clear access to all major entrances, a direct response to the congestion that previously turned a manageable fire situation into a catastrophe.
Wuse Market, having stared into the abyss, has stepped back; however, the same cannot be said for others.
Utako Market
Just a few kilometres away, Utako Market presents a study in contradictions. Here, the signs of encroachment are everywhere. Walkways designed for emergency vehicles are choked with goods, and makeshift structures have narrowed corridors to a crawl.
Happiness David, a trader in Utako, identifies a dangerous common practice: traders turning shops into homes. “People cook in their shops or have electrical problems; that’s what causes these fires. Warn them,” she said.
Her most alarming revelation? The lack of communication. She said, “We don’t have an emergency number here. This side is a local market. I don’t think there is any fire equipment here.”
In contrast, Galadima Gbegbe, the AMAC market manager for Utako, projected total confidence, saying, “I have been in this street for nearly 80 years and there have not been incidents of fire in Utako Market,” he asserts.
He pointed to a synergy with the traders’ union to ensure that lights are switched off at the transformer every night.
Confronted with lack of a fire station, Gbegbe pointed to the future: “The market is to be redeveloped. In the new plan, there is a fire service office to be stationed here. That is the modern plan if the reconstruction goes on.”
The disconnect is stark: a manager relying on 80 years of luck versus traders who see no emergency contact and dangerous daily practices.
But in this market, the fire triangle is converging. Combustible materials, such as wooden stalls, plastic goods, fabrics are packed tightly together. Heat sources from unauthorised cooking, faulty electrical connections, shops doubling as homes are abundant.
The narrow, clogged pathways ensure that if a fire starts, it would have all the air it needs to grow, while firefighters remain hopelessly stuck at the gate.
A Point of Sale (POS) operator, David James, pointed to the market’s four gates as proof of preparedness. “If anything of such happens, at least we have gates. We have one gate here, we have another one there, about four gates in this line now. So, I don’t think anybody would be hurt by any fire incident,” he said, confidently.
But as Kano learned the hard way, gates mean nothing if the paths leading to them are impassable. The trap in Utako is being built, stall by stall, day by day.
Kado Fish Market
Kado Fish Market presents a paradox. Inside, traders like Emeka Phillips are prepared. After a fire last November, the internal response was swift: “Within 30 minutes, we used our fire gadgets and quenched the whole thing,” Phillips recalled.
However, Kado’s success has caused it to outgrow its boundaries. Just outside the main gate, an informal “village” has sprouted. Makeshift stalls line the access roads, spilling onto the very routes fire trucks would need to navigate. This satellite settlement operates without fire extinguishers, enforced closing times or electrical safety oversight. The irony is sharp: Kado’s organised success has fueled an unorganised, high-risk expansion.
We battle congestion on daily basis – Market management
The Abuja Markets Management Limited (AMML) is the government organ responsible for providing facilities and services to the FCTA-owned and other markets within the Federal Capital Territory.
In an exclusive interview, AMML’s head of operations, Innocent Amaechina, laid bare the systemic challenges facing fire prevention, arguing that true safety begins long before the first trader arrives.
“Fire in markets starts from the point of conceptualisation. When you are designing the architecture of a market, you must bear in mind that you aren’t designing a residential estate. You have to make provision for spaces and even the products. The materials used in constructing these markets should not necessarily be the same as those used for residential buildings because markets are more fire-prone. You have to consider fire-resistant materials like bricks instead of just blocks and specialised roofing,” the official explained.
For markets already built, the task shifts to damage control. “Where recovery is possible, you recover. Where it is not, you start fresh. There are various levels of preventive measures you can take,” he added.
Central to AMML’s approach is understanding the “Fire Triangle”—the three elements that must converge for fire to occur: combustible material, oxygen and heat.
“Bear in mind that fire does not happen unless the fire triangle meets. There has to be a combustible material. There has to be air, and there has to be heat. If these three things don’t come together, the fire doesn’t happen. As a manager, you must keep them separate at all times. Don’t bring in fuel—which could be foam, plastic, wood or anything else that catches fire easily. Heat will occur on its own, whether from a spark or the environment. Our goal is to ensure that this triangle never completes,” the official added.
The most visible threat and the one that links the stories in Wuse to the tragedy in Kano is congestion. This is a problem the AMML inherited on a staggering scale.
“We took over a market that had over 12,000 containers, canopies and other attachments in a space meant for only 1,500 shops. You can imagine the danger,” he revealed.
While the FCTA cleared those attachments, sustaining that progress requires constant vigilance. He added, “That congestion is what breeds fire. These canopies and containers are often made of flammable materials. Worse, they are situated in walkways and driveways—the very places a fire truck would need to pass. They block and choke the entire area.”
This precise scenario, fire trucks blocked by congestion, is what Wuse Market traders narrowly avoided and what the people of Kano tragically experienced.
The official also addressed the N8 billion relief fund provided by the Kano State Government to Singer Market traders. “Is prevention not better than cure? Do you know what N8 billion would do for those people if the fire hadn’t happened? That money could have empowered them instead of just replacing what was lost,” he also said.
As the harmattan season intensifies, bringing dry winds and heightened risk, the question remains: How many more warnings does Abuja need?
In Wuse, a fire served as a wake-up call. In Utako and the sprawl outside Kado, the trap is still being built, stall by stall. Whether it is sprung depends on whether the authorities act before the next spark flies.