Yesterday’s explosion in Mushin sent a shockwave through Lagos. According to the police, a suspected Improvised Explosive Device (IED) went off inside a parked Sienna, injuring one person. The police are still investigating to know who was behind the attack and whether it was an act of terrorism.
But whatever the result of the investigation may say, an uncomfortable truth has just stared Lagosians in the face: Lagos is not magically immune to the security nightmares we’ve watched unfold across Nigeria for years. Even if the act was done by a lone disgruntled fellow, it simply means that a terrorist too can do it!
For over a decade, terrorism and violent extremism felt like a tragedy confined to the far North-East. Then, the crisis mutated. It bled into the North-West through brutal banditry and mass kidnappings, and it engulfed the Middle Belt, leaving villages devastated and thousands displaced.
Like most decent people, Lagosians mourned. We prayed. We offered sympathy on social media and went about our daily business.
For millions living in Nigeria’s commercial heartbeat and other southern hubs, there was always an unspoken, comfortable assumption: that these horrors belonged to another Nigeria. The sheer physical distance bred a dangerous sense of security. As long as bombs were going off in Maiduguri, massacres were happening in Benue, or highways were compromised in Kaduna, life in Lagos carried on, blissfully uninterrupted.
Now, that illusion officially died yesterday.
To be absolutely clear, we shouldn’t panic or jump to conclusions. There is zero evidence right now that the Mushin blast was a coordinated act of terrorism. The authorities need the space to do their jobs, and we must resist the urge to peddle rumors.
Yet, it would be downright irresponsible to shrug this off.
A suspected IED detonating in one of Africa’s most densely populated cities should set off alarm bells for every single Nigerian. Modern security threats don’t always announce themselves with convoys of trucks and men brandishing rifles. Today’s criminal networks use explosives for a simple, chilling reason: they cause maximum terror with zero warning.
Think about it. Lagos thrives on chaos and crowds. Our markets, bus terminals, and mega-churches are attractive targets not because of who is there, but because of how many people are packed into one space.
Imagine a device going off during the morning rush at Oshodi, Mile 12, Balogun Market, Computer Village, or CMS. The human and economic fallout would be absolutely catastrophic.
We need to worry about this possibility, not to fear-monger, but because no serious society waits for a body count before it takes security seriously.
For too long, our response to insecurity has been defined by geography. When Borno was burning, it was labeled a “northern problem.” When kidnappings paralyzed Kaduna, Zamfara, and Plateau, it was still treated as something happening “over there.”
But bombs don’t ask for state IDs. Shrapnel doesn’t care about your ethnicity, religion, or political party.
If you let one part of the house burn long enough, the smoke will eventually choke everyone inside. The Mushin incident is a stark reminder that a nation cannot ignore violence in one region and expect another to remain permanently insulated.
As citizens, we have a part to play. We need to stop touching strange objects, start reporting unusual behavior, and ditch the attitude that security is “someone else’s job.”
But the heaviest burden lies squarely at the top. The absolute bare minimum requirement of any government is to protect lives and property. It is our constitutional right to demand better intelligence gathering, tighter control over explosives, and a proactive security strategy from President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and his administration.
Demanding that the government does its job isn’t disloyalty; it’s basic citizenship. We deserve a country where you can go to work, school, or church without wondering if an explosive device is going to shatter your life.
Enough is enough! We don’t need to wait for a definitive terrorism label on the Mushin blast to realize that complacency is a luxury we can no longer afford. Nigeria cannot keep treating insecurity like a spectator sport until it arrives at our own front door.
Whether you are in Maiduguri, Makurdi, Jos, Port Harcourt, Enugu, or Lagos, the demand must be uniform: protect Nigerian lives. It is time to stand together, reject indifference, and force security to the top of the national agenda. The cost of waiting until every city feels the pain firsthand is simply too high a price to pay.
