Alau Dam Collapse Leaves Maiduguri Devastated as Over 400,000 Flee Floodwaters

A Perfect Storm: Collapsed Dam, Relentless Rain, and a City Underwater

The shock of the Alau Dam collapse in September 2024 still lingers across Maiduguri. Picture this: a city already bruised from years of violence and instability, suddenly drowning in a matter of hours. Seventy percent of Maiduguri lay underwater after days of pouring rain battered the dam until it finally cracked open. The flooding sent over 400,000 people searching for high ground, while more than a million felt the chaos in some way—losing homes, businesses, or loved ones. Official figures put the death toll at 150, though locals whisper of more uncounted victims washed away or swept under collapsed buildings.

People in Maiduguri know hardship. Boko Haram insurgency has haunted them for more than a decade, destroying villages and scattering families. So when the flood hit, many survivors already carried deep scars. Take Fatima Umar—a mother of three who uses a wheelchair. When the water surged into her home, she was entirely dependent on the kindness and strength of neighbors. Her story isn't unique. Thousands found themselves racing through sewage-tinged waves, climbing onto makeshift rafts or relying on neighbors just to escape being swept away.

Displacement, Hunger, and a Growing Sense of Abandonment

Most of Maiduguri’s central neighborhoods became lakes overnight: roads disappeared, schools and clinics were wrecked, and whole communities vanished beneath the murky current. Students’ exams ended abruptly. Shoppers deserted half-submerged markets. Government buildings stood silent, waterlogged and unusable. At Sanda Kyarimi Park Zoo, only a tiny fraction of the animals survived, with about 80% drowned or missing. And as the waters receded, the scale of the destruction became painfully clear—more than 1 million people suddenly faced homelessness, food shortages, and an unfamiliar cityscape torn to shreds.

For those pushed into relief camps like Teachers Village, conditions are beyond cramped. Outsiders often imagine tents packed together, but survivors describe scenes where dozens sleep in sweltering classrooms without running water or private bathrooms. Many lost what little food or valuables they owned. Aid hasn’t arrived fast enough. Humanitarian groups are already stretched thin between feeding displaced people here and tackling a wave of cholera and malnutrition sparked by the floods. Fatima and her children line up daily for small bowls of rice and lentils, with little clarity on when or if things will improve.

The disaster exposed serious cracks in Nigeria’s crisis response. Even after 30 years without floods this severe, Maiduguri is no stranger to seasonal rains. But the dam, designed decades ago to protect the city, had long needed major repairs. Yet, after the collapse, the federal government’s help moved at a crawl. Promises and press releases replaced real work. People in Maiduguri watched as officials sidelined the experienced local contractor, Mothercat Nigeria Limited. The new company tapped for repairs reportedly abandoned efforts after barely starting, leaving gaping holes and rusting equipment near Lagos Street Bridge as a reminder of how little progress had been made.

Now, anxiety looms over the 2025 rainy season—just a few months away. Residents warn that without fast and serious dam reconstruction and drainage upgrades, another disaster could wipe out whatever’s left of their city. Calls for help blare from radios, mosque loudspeakers, and social media, but impatience is growing on the ground. People here know that hunger, homelessness, and political finger-pointing won’t hold back the rain.