How 200-year-old ‘Ukwu Akpu’ tree fell, killed 11 in Enugu community
For more than two centuries, it stood above rooftops and generations — a towering symbol of memory and identity at the centre of Awhum Market in Awhum, Udi Local Government
For more than two centuries, it stood above rooftops and generations — a towering symbol of memory and identity at the centre of Awhum Market in Awhum, Udi Local Government Area of Enugu State.
Known as Ukwu Akpu, the tree rose approximately 70 metres, with sprawling branches said to produce thousands of planks and buttress roots wide enough to conceal a grown adult. It was more than a feature of the landscape; it defined it.
Regarded by elders as the tallest and largest tree in the community, it stood as a silent witness to markets, marriages, disputes, and funerals, offering shade to traders and serving as a cultural anchor.
That landmark now lies shattered.
On Tuesday, February 17, 2026, at about 8:45 p.m., the giant tree collapsed in the busy market square, crushing a commercial vehicle and a private car and killing eleven people — ten women and one man — instantly.
The vehicles, a Toyota Hiace bus and a Sienna minivan, had departed Old Park in Enugu and were en route to communities within the Awhum/Okpatu axis. Police findings indicate that both vehicles had briefly stopped to drop off passengers when the tree suddenly gave way.
Justice Ogbonnia, popularly known as Ichaka, the Chief Security Officer of the community, recounted the incident in an interview aired by BBC News Igbo.
“This one had already discharged some of his passengers and was about closing his boot when the tree fell and landed on the vehicles,” he said, pointing at the mangled Hiace bus.
He described a desperate rescue effort that followed.
“Our people rushed immediately and brought in sawing machines to cut off parts of the tree on the vehicles. We had to break open the vehicles because they were pressed down by the trunk to bring out the mangled bodies.
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“One person was brought out alive, but she died before we could reach the nearby hospital.”
Emergency responders from the 9th Mile Division worked with residents through the night. Four survivors were rescued. Eleven others were confirmed dead at the hospital. Their remains now lie in the mortuary, while families struggle to comprehend the loss.
By Wednesday morning, the market square — usually alive with bargaining voices — was reduced to a theatre of broken metal, splintered wood, and stunned silence, with community members thronging to catch glimpses of the incident.
For generations, Ukwu Akpu was believed to be sacred — a symbol of the Water Goddess and ancestral presence. Every first month of the year, sacrifices were made beside it, for both the living and the dead. The rituals, elders said, were handed down from forefathers.
But community accounts suggest those sacrifices stopped over a decade ago.
Days passed. Years passed. Nothing happened. Until now.
“Since we have been living in Awhum, even if a stick or branch of the tree fell, it would not touch anyone, no matter the number of people around,” Ogbonnia said.
According to oral history, even German road builders reportedly attempted to cut down the tree but failed.
“We never expected it would fall even in the next 100 years,” he added. “We grew up seeing this tree like this. Our grandfathers told us their grandfathers also met it standing.”
Following the tragedy, traditional appeasement rites have reportedly been performed — not out of certainty about what went wrong, but out of fear of what might have.
Nature or neglect?
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The Enugu State Police Command confirmed the incident and attributed the collapse to heavy rainfall, strong winds, and internal decay that had weakened the massive trunk.
In a condolence message, the Commissioner of Police described the incident as heartbreaking and urged communities to prioritise regular inspection and maintenance of old or large trees, especially in public spaces.
But within Awhum, the conversation is more layered.
A village source told our correspondent on the telephone that there had been warnings.
“They have been asked to cut that tree since, that it is old, and they were busy saying it is an ancestor’s tree… Now it has caused casualties,” he lamented
Some residents point to environmental factors. Others whisper about angered deities. Many simply ask if reverence clouded judgment.
Was this spiritual? Was it neglect? Or was it simply time for a 200-year-old giant to rest?
A community in mourning
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The tragedy has left a bitter irony: for centuries, the tree was believed to protect Awhum from danger. On this night, it became dangerous.
Shop owners around the square escaped unhurt, though branches damaged some structures. Attempts to reach the traditional ruler for comment proved abortive.
As logs are being cut and cleared from the main road, grief hangs heavier than the fallen trunk. Women who once traded beneath its shade now mourn sisters, neighbours, and customers who will not return.
Beyond the immediate sorrow lies a deeper reckoning — about how communities balance heritage with safety, faith with foresight, memory with modern responsibility.
In Awhum, the market will reopen. The debris will be cleared. Life will, inevitably, move.
But the skyline has changed forever.
Where a 70-metre guardian once stood, there is now only open sky — and unanswered questions.
