Introduction: The Iron Serpent Arrives
When the first shriek of a locomotive echoed across the red earth of Nigeria in the early 20th century, elders whispered that a new spirit had been unleashed. In villages from Ibadan to Enugu, people spoke of a strange iron serpent cutting through forests, swallowing smoke, and spitting out thunder. Some said it was a blessing; others feared it would consume the land.
The railway was not just an engineering project. It was a revolution in land, labor, and life itself. Communities gave up ancestral farms, youths became railway workers, and markets expanded in ways previously unimaginable. With its coming, Nigeria’s economic map was redrawn, binding distant towns into a network of trade and transforming local societies forever.
This essay tells the story of the railway not from the perspective of colonial engineers in London or Lagos, but from the affected communities themselves — the farmers, chiefs, laborers, and traders who lived through the disruption and opportunity of this iron road.
Historical Background: The Railway as Colonial Strategy
The British began building railways in Nigeria in the 1890s, motivated not by altruism but by profit and control. The Lagos Government Railway started in 1896, with the first section opening in 1901, linking Lagos to Ibadan by 1901. Later expansions pushed the line northward, eventually connecting to Kano by 1912.
Meanwhile, in the East, the Eastern Line began from Port Harcourt in 1913, reaching Enugu by 1916. Enugu’s significance grew dramatically when coal was discovered, making it a jewel in the colonial economy. The railway became the artery for transporting coal to the coast for export.
But what did this mean for Ibadan’s farmers, or Enugu’s coal miners? What did it mean for the women who traded goods in newly booming markets? And how did it reshape the cultural fabric of communities along the line?
Land Acquisition: Losing and Gaining Ground
Ibadan: When Ancestral Land Met Iron Tracks
In Ibadan, oral traditions recall the anxiety of chiefs when colonial officials arrived with surveyors. According to one account recorded in local folklore, an elder lamented:
“The white man carries no cutlass, yet the forest bows before him. He takes land with paper and pen, not spear or gun.”
Farmlands, sacred groves, and family compounds were cleared to make way for railway tracks. Some families lost ancestral shrines, forcing them to relocate rituals. Compensation was meager, often paid in coins that could not equate to the spiritual and economic value of land.
Yet, Ibadan chiefs saw opportunity. They realized that the railway would make Ibadan a hub, linking farms to markets. The Alaafin of Oyo and Ibadan chiefs negotiated to protect some communal lands while allowing access to railway expansion. Thus, even in dispossession, there was calculation: a sacrifice of land for future prosperity.
Enugu: Coal Land Taken
In Enugu, land acquisition was more brutal. With the discovery of coal in 1909, colonial authorities forcefully took over land in the Udi Hills. Oral history recalls villagers resisting, saying the hills were home to their ancestors’ spirits. But British officials declared the land “Crown property.” Families were relocated, and entire communities lost farmland.
Enugu’s railway station and coal mines became symbols of both development and disinheritance. The land that once fed families now fed the colonial engine.
Local Labor: Sweat, Strikes, and Brotherhood
Railway Construction: The Human Engine
The railway was built not by machines but by human backs. Thousands of Nigerian laborers were conscripted or recruited with promises of wages. They cut through forests, laid tracks under scorching sun, and built bridges across rivers.
In Ibadan, many young men abandoned farming seasons to join railway construction, drawn by the allure of cash. Oral songs from that era capture their mixed feelings:
“Ori mi gbe mi, mo lo si railway work,
Owo lo n pe mi, sugbon eje ati eje ni mo ri.”
(“My destiny carried me to railway work,
Money was calling me, but I found only blood and sweat.”)
In Enugu, coal miners became a special class of laborers. They worked in dark pits, often under dangerous conditions. By the 1940s, these workers had formed a strong labor consciousness, leading strikes that shook colonial authority.
The 1945 General Strike
Perhaps the most famous legacy of railway labor was the 1945 General Strike, in which railway workers, along with other labor unions, paralyzed the colonial economy for 45 days. In both Ibadan and Enugu, workers stood firm, demanding fair wages. Folklore remembers them as heroes who “spoke truth to the lion.”
This labor militancy planted seeds for Nigeria’s nationalist movements, showing how railway labor was not just economic but also political transformation.
Economic Transformation: From Local to Global
Ibadan: A Market Metropolis
Before the railway, Ibadan was already a powerful city-state known for its warriors and expansive trade networks. But the railway turbocharged its economy. Cocoa farmers in surrounding villages could now transport produce quickly to Lagos for export.
Ibadan markets swelled with traders from distant regions. Hausa cattle traders brought beef; Igbo traders brought palm oil. The railway station became a bustling crossroads where languages mixed, and fortunes were made.
A Yoruba proverb captures the transformation:
“Ona kan o woja” — there is not only one road to the market.
Yet with the railway, there was suddenly a new road to the market, faster and more profitable than all others.
Enugu: Coal and Colonialism
Enugu’s transformation was more industrial. Coal powered not only Nigeria but also British ships and railways abroad. The town swelled with migrant workers from Igboland and beyond.
But coal also blackened lungs and bred social tension. Workers lived in segregated quarters, with Africans in basic camps while Europeans enjoyed better housing. Still, the wages and opportunities attracted migrants, and Enugu blossomed into a cosmopolitan town.
Markets grew, schools opened, and churches flourished. Enugu became known as the “Coal City,” a place where tradition and modern industry collided.
Social Changes: Identity, Class, and Culture
Migration and Cosmopolitanism
The railway spurred migration on an unprecedented scale. Hausa traders settled in Ibadan. Igbo workers traveled to Enugu. Communities once isolated were suddenly neighbors.
This brought cultural exchange but also tension. In Ibadan, Hausa settlements grew around the railway station, creating new districts. Oral tales tell of early misunderstandings, where Yoruba farmers accused Hausa traders of “talking to cows like brothers.” Yet, over time, intermarriages occurred, and the railway station became a site of pluralism.
Class and Labor Identity
Railway work created a new Nigerian working class. These were men (and some women) who earned wages, lived in barracks, and organized unions. Their songs, dances, and strikes created a new culture of resistance.
In Enugu, miners’ dances and masquerades often included satirical performances mocking colonial masters. In Ibadan, railway workers were seen as modern men, wearing European-style clothes and boasting of regular wages.
Folklore Adaptations
Folktales adapted to the new reality. In Ibadan, children told stories of an “iron horse” that could outrun the fastest hunter. In Enugu, elders warned of “the spirit of the black rock” (coal), which gave wealth but demanded lives in mining accidents.
Gender and the Railway
Though railway work was male-dominated, women played key roles in the transformation. In Ibadan, women traders thrived by moving goods via the railway. Oral testimonies recall women forming cooperatives to send cocoa, kola nuts, and textiles to Lagos.
In Enugu, coal miners’ wives organized food markets and mutual aid groups. During strikes, women sometimes marched alongside men, banging pots and singing war songs. Their presence reminded colonial authorities that the railway’s impact extended to entire families.
Long-Term Impacts: From Colonial Tool to National Asset
After independence in 1960, the Nigerian Railway Corporation inherited the colonial network. Ibadan remained a key hub, while Enugu’s coal economy gradually declined with the rise of oil.
Yet, the legacy of the railway endures. In Ibadan, the railway station still stands as a reminder of the city’s market ascendancy. In Enugu, the coal mines may be quiet, but the “Coal City” identity remains central to its people.
Today, with renewed investment in rail (like the Lagos-Ibadan standard gauge), communities are once again negotiating land, labor, and opportunity. The echoes of history remind us that every track laid is not just steel, but also story.
Conclusion: The Iron Road as Memory and Future
The railway in Nigeria was more than transport. It was a corridor of transformation. For Ibadan, it meant becoming a commercial giant. For Enugu, it meant the rise of coal and labor militancy. For countless villages, it meant loss of land but also access to broader markets.
Folklore remembers it as both blessing and curse: the iron serpent that devoured land but also brought prosperity. Elders still tell of its whistle, a sound that carried both opportunity and disruption.
In the end, the railway is not just history; it is a living heritage. Its tracks run not only across Nigeria’s soil but also through its people’s memories — of land lost, sweat spilled, unions forged, and markets transformed.