By Lawan Bukar Maigana
I am writing this article not as a distant observer but as someone who walked through flooded streets, stood side by side with victims, and spent sleepless nights wondering how many more people would survive the next downpour. I have seen firsthand the destruction that floods bring to Borno State, and I feel morally obligated to appeal to both the federal and Borno State governments.
This isn’t just another seasonal disaster—it is a pattern that is worsening every year, and if nothing is done urgently, the consequences will be even more devastating. With recent flood warnings placing Maiduguri and Ngala on high alert, it is time to confront this problem with the seriousness it demands.
On the night of September 10th, 2024, the people of Maiduguri experienced a calamity that was both preventable and predictable. The Alau Dam collapsed, releasing a force of water that surged through communities, homes, and markets. Over 400,000 residents were displaced, and more than 150 lives were lost in a matter of hours.
The city turned into a watery grave, with roads cut off, houses submerged, and businesses completely destroyed. The damage wasn’t limited to infrastructure—it shattered lives, disrupted families, and exposed the deep infrastructural weaknesses we have long chosen to ignore.
Almost a year later, thousands of those affected are still struggling to rebuild their lives. Many families remain without shelter, forced to live in makeshift tents or overcrowded compounds. Traders who once ran thriving businesses in Monday Market, Gwange, Moduganari, and Customs areas are still unable to return to their stalls.
Some have relocated entirely, while others now rely on daily handouts to survive. The truth is, for many of them, recovery has barely begun. What is even more painful is knowing that much of this suffering could have been avoided if the right steps had been taken early enough.
I was part of a team that responded immediately after the flood hit. Alongside Kyari Alto Mohammed and Mohammed Umar, we coordinated a massive grassroots relief effort that reached some of the hardest-hit areas in Maiduguri. With no institutional backing, we mobilized resources through social media, friends, and personal savings.
We cooked thousands of meals each day, provided water, distributed sanitary items, and gave cash support to vulnerable families, including women who had just given birth in the middle of flooded neighborhoods. We were physically present in communities like Gwange, Bulabulin, Abbagaram, Customs, Bayan Quarters, and 505 when few others dared to step out.
Our effort was not driven by any political ambition or media recognition, but by the sheer urgency of the situation. Still, we were humbled when our work received national attention. The Nigerian Defence Headquarters acknowledged our commitment. Daily Trust and Arewa Agenda ran stories documenting our activities. We were not the only ones helping, but we were among the few who stayed consistent long after the cameras left. That recognition only strengthened our resolve to keep going until real solutions are implemented.
The crisis wasn’t just about hunger or shelter. In one instance, we received a call that a woman in labor was stranded near the Customs area. With the help of team members, we transported her to a nearby clinic, and she delivered safely. This is just one of many stories that reveal how fragile life becomes during disasters, especially when there is no functional system to protect the most vulnerable. You cannot hear such stories and return to business as usual.
And yet, after all this pain, the structural root of the problem—Alau Dam—remains unrepaired, unexpanded, and not reconstructed. The dam was not just overwhelmed by water, it had been weakened over the years due to a lack of maintenance, and nothing meaningful has been done to strengthen or expand it since. If we are serious about preventing future disasters, Alau Dam must be reconstructed with modern engineering standards that can withstand extreme events. A city like Maiduguri cannot be left at the mercy of a dam that is both outdated and unreliable.
The rivers and drainage systems that cut through Maiduguri—especially those in Monday Market, Gwange, Moduganari, and the Custom area—have become bottlenecks. They are either blocked by debris or too narrow to carry runoff during the rainy season. When the water rises, these waterways overflow into neighborhoods, turning entire communities into flood zones. Dredging and expanding these channels is not a luxury—it is a necessity. Every rainy season without action only increases the cost of the next disaster.
Recent warnings by the National Flood Early Warning Centre of the Federal Ministry of Environment indicate that Maiduguri and Ngala are likely to face flooding again this year. With Cameroon releasing water from the Lagdo Dam and rainfall levels projected to be high, the signs are clear. If we do nothing, we are walking into another tragedy with our eyes wide open. We must stop acting like this is a surprise. It is not. We know what will happen. The question is whether we care enough to act.
I believe this is the moment for not just boldness, but proactive leadership. The federal and state governments must go beyond relief donations. They must invest heavily in preventive infrastructure. Rebuilding Alau Dam is step one. Dredging and expanding the river systems within Maiduguri is step two. And step three should be the construction of new multipurpose dams on the outskirts of the city. These new dams will not only help with water management, but they can also be used for irrigation farming, thereby creating jobs for our teeming youth population.
Imagine a system where the floodwaters are not a threat but an opportunity—collected, stored, and channeled into large-scale farming projects. It is possible. With the right planning, we can turn our flood problem into a source of prosperity. But this requires vision and political will. It means prioritizing infrastructure over rhetoric, and people over politics. It means spending money on what matters, and doing it now—not after lives are lost.
As we advocate for these changes, we must also fix our early warning systems. The people of Borno deserve timely, reliable alerts that can help them prepare for emergencies. This includes real-time monitoring of rainfall levels, dam pressure, and river volumes. Alerts should be disseminated through radio, TV, community leaders, and even SMS. Preparedness should not be a privilege; it should be a right for every citizen.
We also need a comprehensive flood response plan that includes evacuation routes, designated shelters, emergency food reserves, and mobile clinics. What we had last year was an improvised reaction. We must transform that into a formal system that is tested and improved regularly. Communities must be trained on how to respond to flooding so that panic does not claim more lives than the water itself.
For those still displaced by last year’s flood, the government must provide real support. This means not just money, but long-term assistance to help them rebuild homes, restart businesses, and recover their dignity. A casual donation of rice and wrappers is not enough. These people need real pathways to recovery, or else they will remain in a cycle of suffering.
This appeal is not just coming from me alone, but from the thousands who survived, the families still grieving, the mothers still nursing babies under destroyed roofs, and the fathers who cannot provide because their means of livelihood was washed away. They may not have access to media or public platforms, but their voices matter. I am simply amplifying what they live every day.
I also call on humanitarian organizations, development partners, and civil society groups to push for structural interventions. The burden cannot rest on volunteers alone. We need coordinated support, technical expertise, and funding directed toward long-term flood prevention—not just short-term relief distribution.
Let us not pretend that this problem is unique to Borno. Other states across Nigeria are also at risk. But Borno remains among the most vulnerable due to its topography and its already fragile infrastructure. If we get it right here, we can create a model for flood resilience across the country.
To my fellow citizens, especially those in leadership, I ask: how many more people must die before we act? How many more homes must be destroyed before we acknowledge that climate change, poor planning, and neglect are a deadly combination? This is a moral question, not just a technical one.
As someone who has worked in the mud, cried with victims, and seen hope disappear under dirty water, I say this with a full heart: enough is enough. Let this year be different. Let this be the year we prepared, not the year we mourned again. Let us not wait until the next rainy season swallows another community before calling a press conference.
The cost of inaction is too high. The reward for preparation is immeasurable. Borno deserves more than sympathy—it deserves protection, planning, and progress. The time to act is not tomorrow. It is today. It is now.
I write this with the urgency of someone who has seen too much loss. I write it because I believe we can prevent the next disaster if we decide to. I write it because Borno’s future should not be shaped by floods, but by the collective courage to build something better. May our leaders rise to the occasion, and may we never have to write this story again.
Lawan Bukar Maigana is Daily Trust’s 2024 Hero and can be reached via email: Lawanbukarmaigana@gmail.com.
