Questions after fallen 200-year-old tree killed 11 in Enugu community
For more than two centuries, it towered above rooftops and generations — a living monument of wood and memory at the heart of Awhum Market in Awhum, Udi Local Government
For more than two centuries, it towered above rooftops and generations — a living monument of wood and memory at the heart of Awhum Market in Awhum, Udi Local Government Area of Enugu State.
They called it Ukwu Akpu. It stood about 70 metres tall, with massive branches said to be strong enough to yield thousands of planks and hip roots so wide, a grown adult could hide inside them. The tree was not merely part of the landscape, it was the landscape. The tallest and biggest in the community, elders said - a sentinel that watched over markets, marriages, disputes and funerals; a tree whose shadow had cooled traders and whose presence had anchored beliefs.
Today, that giant lies broken on the earth it once dominated.
On Tuesday, February 17, 2026, at about 8:45pm, Ukwu Akpu crashed, falling down in the middle of the busy market square, crushing one commercial vehicle and another private one, and snuffing life out of eleven people — ten women and a man — in seconds.
The vehicles — a Toyota Hiace bus and a Sienna minivan — had departed from Old Park in Enugu and were heading toward villages within the Awhum/Okpatu axis. According to police findings, they had just stopped to drop off passengers when the unimaginable happened.
Justice Ogbonnia, also known as Ichaka, Chief Security Officer of the community, recounted the moment 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.
“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 local 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.
READ ALSO: Ogun govt disowns alleged Awujale endorsement, halts selection process
“We never expected it would fall even in the next 100 years,” he added. “We grew up to see 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?
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 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 ancestors’ 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?
