Dangote Truck Rams Into Vehicle, Crvshes Entire Family, Others in Enugu
The people of Enugu State were thrown into shock and mourning on Tuesday evening when a Dangote truck rammed into a private vehicle along the Enugu-Port Harcourt Expressway at Four Corner in Nkanu West Local Government Area. The crash claimed the lives of an entire family and three other innocent road users in what eyewitnesses have described as one of the most horrifying accidents in recent memory.
The scene was catastrophic. Eyewitness videos that quickly spread on social media captured the mangled wreckage of the small car, crushed beyond recognition. What had once been a family car was now a flattened mass of twisted steel. Onlookers stood in silence, some crying, some filming, many unable to comprehend the violence that had just unfolded before their eyes.
“None of them made it out alive,” one man said quietly, his voice breaking. His words echoed across the grieving crowd, cementing the tragedy in the minds of those present.
This disaster comes only a week after Nigerians were still grappling with the death of Ruth Otabor, the younger sister of Big Brother Naija Season 7 winner Phyna, who had died from injuries sustained in a crash involving another Dangote truck in Auchi, Edo State. The timing of both tragedies, so close together, has once again reignited fierce debate across the country. Why do Dangote trucks keep killing Nigerians? Who will hold this corporate behemoth accountable? And how many more lives must be lost before the system changes?
Residents of Four Corner described the incident as something out of a nightmare. Witnesses recounted that the truck appeared to lose control as it descended a slope into the busy expressway before colliding head-on with a vehicle carrying a family of five.
“I heard the sound first,” said Chika Okafor, a food vendor who operates a stall nearby. “It was like an explosion, followed by screams. When we rushed out, all we saw was death. The car was crushed flat like a tin of sardine. Mothers were crying, people were shouting, but it was too late. There was no life left in that car.”
Others spoke of chaos, of people running in panic, of passersby who became victims themselves. Three pedestrians standing nearby were caught under the weight of the truck and killed instantly.
Emergency responders labored through the night to clear the wreckage and recover bodies. The corpses were later taken to the Enugu State University Teaching Hospital morgue, while survivors from minor accidents triggered by the panic were rushed for treatment.
For many Nigerians, the Enugu crash feels like a continuation of a grim pattern. Only days earlier, the nation had been mourning the death of Ruth Otabor. She had fought for weeks after a Dangote truck crushed her legs in Edo State before finally succumbing to her injuries.
Ruth was the younger sister of Josephine Otabor, popularly known as Phyna, the Big Brother Naija Season 7 winner. The family tragedy drew widespread attention because of Phyna’s fame, but beyond celebrity, it struck a nerve because Nigerians have grown used to hearing of lives destroyed by trucks linked to Dangote’s massive transport empire.
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In response to Ruth’s death, the Dangote Group issued a statement expressing sorrow and pledging accountability. The company said it had arranged to fly Ruth abroad for advanced treatment before her passing and emphasized that safety and responsibility remained core values. Yet, scarcely two days later, the Enugu disaster unfolded, leaving Nigerians wondering if words alone can solve a systemic problem.
The Dangote Group is Africa’s largest conglomerate, with business interests spanning cement, sugar, salt, pasta, fertilizers, and petroleum. To move these products, the company operates tens of thousands of trucks across Nigeria. They are instantly recognizable, painted in white and red, and seen on virtually every major highway.
But for many Nigerians, those trucks are not just symbols of economic might; they are symbols of fear. A saying has become common on Nigerian roads: “Fear Dangote trucks, they are moving coffins.”
Data from the Federal Road Safety Corps confirms that Dangote trucks feature prominently in many fatal crashes.
- In 2022, a Dangote truck killed 17 schoolchildren in Ogun State after suffering brake failure.
- In 2023, another truck rammed into a passenger bus in Kogi, killing 14 people.
- In 2024, three separate incidents in Lagos, Ibadan, and Kaduna left at least 25 dead.
- By mid-2025, multiple crashes had already made headlines in states including Edo, Delta, Kano, and now Enugu.
The frequency has led to accusations that the company neglects proper vehicle maintenance, overloads trucks beyond safe limits, and fails to adequately train or monitor its drivers.
Experts insist that the blame cannot be placed solely on drivers. Instead, they point to a toxic mix of bad roads, systemic neglect, and corporate pressure.
According to Dr. Ifeanyi Eze, a transportation safety researcher at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, “Nigeria’s roads are death traps, but the problem with Dangote trucks is compounded by scale. When you deploy thousands of heavy-duty trucks daily across every region without rigorous safety checks, you’re bound to have repeated tragedies. The trucks are too many, the drivers are under pressure, and the system lacks accountability.”
Interviews with some truck drivers, who requested anonymity, reveal grim working conditions. Many claim they are given unrealistic delivery targets and face stiff penalties for delays. Some drive for more than 18 hours at a stretch, often without adequate rest, food, or support. Others say they are compelled to carry loads that exceed vehicle capacity.
“When you complain, they tell you to do your job or lose it,” one driver said. “People drive tired, overloaded, and desperate. That is why accidents keep happening.”
The Federal Road Safety Corps has often warned against overloading and reckless driving by corporate fleets, but enforcement remains weak. Corruption at checkpoints and lack of political will frequently undermine efforts to hold powerful companies accountable.
In the aftermath of tragedies, the Dangote Group typically releases statements of condolence, pledges to support victims’ families, and reiterates its commitment to safety. After Ruth Otabor’s death, it stressed that officials and insurance partners had been by her side throughout her medical care and that they had been prepared to send her abroad for treatment.
However, many Nigerians remain unconvinced. Critics argue that words are not enough when lives continue to be lost in such devastating numbers. Human rights activist Dele Farotimi captured the anger succinctly: “Dangote Group has become a law unto itself in Nigeria. Their trucks kill Nigerians weekly, and what happens? Nothing. No sanctions, no shutdowns, no criminal prosecutions. If this was in Europe or America, the company would be facing billion-dollar lawsuits and executive arrests. But here, we just bury the dead and move on.”
The Enugu crash triggered immediate outrage on social media platforms. Hashtags like #DangoteTrucks and #StopTheKillings trended on X, with users demanding accountability.
“How many more families must be wiped out before the government regulates Dangote trucks?” one post asked.
“Dangote is too powerful to be touched, that’s why lives keep being wasted,” another lamented.
“This is genocide on the highways,” a third wrote.
The digital protest reflects broader public frustration in a country where tragedies often follow the same script: accident, outrage, condolence statement, and then silence until the next incident.
Perhaps the most damning element is the silence of the Nigerian government. Despite decades of repeated accidents involving Dangote trucks, there has been no significant policy shift to regulate corporate fleets or hold companies accountable for negligence.
Regulatory agencies such as the FRSC, the Vehicle Inspection Office, and state transport authorities remain chronically underfunded and politically compromised. Bribery often ensures that even faulty trucks are allowed to remain on the roads.
Transport policy analyst Oluchi Nnamani observed, “The Nigerian state is captured by big corporations. Dangote is not just a businessman; he is part of the system. That’s why despite hundreds of avoidable deaths, there is no serious regulation of his trucking empire. The victims are ordinary Nigerians, voiceless and expendable.”
In many developed countries, companies responsible for repeated fatal crashes would face lawsuits, bans, or enforced systemic reforms. In the United States, Walmart and FedEx have paid multi-million-dollar settlements after truck accidents. In the UK, heavy-duty fleets undergo strict annual safety audits, and companies that fail face the loss of licenses.
Nigeria, however, has become accustomed to corporate impunity. Even in the face of multiple fatalities, life goes on, and victims’ families are left to grieve alone.
The last demand is particularly important. Nigeria’s overreliance on road transport stems from the collapse of the rail system. If rail freight were revitalized, fewer trucks would need to be on the highways, reducing the risk of accidents.
As Enugu prepares to bury its dead, the human cost remains immeasurable. Families have been shattered. Children have been orphaned. Communities are traumatized.
Religious leaders have held vigils, praying for the souls of the departed and calling for divine intervention. Yet beneath the prayers is a deep sense of frustration: a recognition that these deaths could have been prevented if safety and accountability were prioritized.
The tragedy has left many Nigerians asking the same painful question: who will be next?
The deaths at Four Corner, like the death of Ruth Otabor before them, underline a brutal truth. Lives in Nigeria are cheap, and corporate power often trumps accountability. Dangote trucks continue to move across the country daily, delivering goods but also leaving destruction in their wake.
Until the government confronts this menace with real action—through regulation, accountability, and systemic reform—every Nigerian road remains a place of fear. Drivers will continue to look nervously into their rearview mirrors, praying they do not see a looming white-and-red truck bearing down on them.
How many more crushed cars, broken families, and mass burials will it take before Nigeria finally confronts the menace of Dangote trucks?