Ejigbo C-130H Crash: 25 Years of Grief and Resilience By Queen Amina Mohammad
September 26, 1992. On this day, a quarter of a century ago, Nigeria was shaken by one of the deadliest air disasters in its military history. A C-130H Hercules aircraft, carrying about 158 officers from different arms of the Armed Forces, took off from Murtala Muhammed Airport in Lagos. Barely three minutes into the flight, it plunged into the swamps of Ejigbo, Lagos. No one survived.
For the families left behind, the tragedy was more than a national headline. It was the moment when time froze. One family recalls that night vividly:
“When the news broke on the 9 o’clock Network News, our home fell into sudden silence. Those who understood cried out in anguish. The grief was so heavy it spread like fire, leaving us overwhelmed and broken. At first, we were sad because our mother was sad. But soon, we realised why — the last time we saw our father was the last time we would ever see him again.”
In the days that followed, homes across Nigeria became gathering points for mourners. Some sympathisers sat in silence, offering comfort through their presence. Others tried to console with words. Many wept more loudly than the bereaved themselves. Then came the burials. When the mourners finally dispersed, families were left to confront the harsh reality of living without their loved ones.
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Twenty-five years on, survivors and families of the fallen reflect not only on the depth of their loss but also on their remarkable resilience.
“Grief and sorrow did not win,” one family member reflects. “We learned to laugh again because we had cried too deeply. We learned to value abundance because we once knew want. We learned to treasure life because we had felt the sting of death.”
The tragedy left permanent scars, yet it also forged uncommon strength. Families testify that grief can blind one to the blessings that remain. But through faith, endurance, and the slow passage of time, despair gave way to resilience.
The Ejigbo crash remains a national wound — not just for the Armed Forces but for Nigeria as a whole. The officers lost were husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, uncles, and friends. They left behind wives and children, parents and siblings, who bore the burden of grief with dignity.
“In the end, we found victory over grief,” the family reflects. “We lost earthly fathers, but we discovered the presence of a higher Father — ever-sufficient, ever-victorious. RIP Dad, we miss you always.”
As the nation remembers, the story of the Ejigbo C-130H crash must not be reduced to sorrow alone. It is also a story of resilience, of faith rediscovered, and of the power of families to rise above even the deepest grief. The fallen live on — in memory, in lessons of courage, and in the unbroken spirit of those they left behind.
Queen Amina Mohammad lives and writes from Abuja.
