The other day, I wanted to fry
some frozen shrimps. A regular day in Finland. Nothing dramatic, or so I
thought. I had thawed the shrimps and ready to toss them into the hot oil.
Little did I know that simple act
of frying shrimps turned into a full-blown fire emergency, one I did not see
coming and certainly did not plan for. Why did this happen? Back in Nigeria I
would have gotten away with this action of mine but…. no.
The moment the shrimps hit the
pan, there was a crackling splash, a burst of smoke, and then BEEP! BEEP!
BEEP!
Suddenly, the shrill cry of the
smoke alarm filled the apartment. It was not just a beep or two, neither the
gentle kind of beep you hear when your microwave is done warming your food, it
was a loud, continuous blare that sent panic down my spine. This was loud,
relentless, and deeply unsettling. The twist? The detector is not even in the
kitchen. It is down the hallway, in my bedroom area. But the door had been
partly open, and clearly, that was enough for the alarm to catch wind of the
smoke.
And before I could gather myself
or fan the air, the unimaginable happened: the Finnish fire service arrived.
I did not call anyone. I did not even know I had to call. They just
came.
This was my first encounter with
Finland’s fire safety system, and it was eye-opening. Coming from Nigeria, I
know fire safety differently. Back home, smoke alarms are not a common
household feature. Fires often go unnoticed until someone yells from the next
house or the fire has already begun to consume property. Many of us are used to
being our own fire brigade using buckets, sand, or whatever we can find.
Before I could calm my heartbeat
or turn off the stove, the fire service had arrived at my door. Yes, arrived.
I had not called anyone. I did not even know they could come like that.
This was my first experience with
a smoke alarm in action in Finland—and what a dramatic introduction it was.
A Culture of Preparedness
Living in Finland, one quickly
learns that safety is not just a concept here—it is a culture. Every home,
apartment, and building are fitted with functioning smoke alarms, and by law,
tenants or owners are responsible for maintaining them. In newer buildings,
these detectors are interlinked and connected to emergency services. So, when
an alarm goes off and is not deactivated within a specific time, the fire
department is alerted automatically.
I was still shaking when the
firefighters arrived, but they were kind and professional. After checking to
ensure there was no danger, they gently educated me about the system.
This was not about my shrimps. This was a serious, structured response designed to save lives before flames ever get the chance to become fire.
A Different Story: Fires in
Nigeria
Now, contrast this with Nigeria where I come from. Growing up, smoke alarms were not a feature in our homes. In fact, the only time you heard about a fire alarm was in an office building, and even then, it was more ornamental than functional. Fires, when they happened, were often devastating. Marketplaces burnt down. Residential areas lost entire blocks. Businesses were wiped out overnight.
In Finland, most apartment
buildings are equipped with interconnected smoke detectors. Some are even
linked directly to emergency services. That means if the alarm goes off and is
not deactivated within a certain time, a signal is automatically sent to the
fire department. This is not just convenience, it is a life-saving system built
on prevention, not reaction.
It is hard not to compare. In
Nigeria, I have seen markets burn down overnight, homes reduced to ashes, and
families left with nothing but the clothes on their backs. I still remember
when a family friend’s shop in Port Harcourt went up in flames due to a faulty
electric wire. There were no alarms, no quick response, just neighbors
shouting and scrambling. By the time the fire service arrived (over an hour
later), the damage was done.
In contrast, here in Finland, the
shrimps did not even burn before help was at my doorstep.
Of course, it was embarrassing.
Imagine trying to explain in shaky Finnish-English that it was just shrimps,
not a real fire. But underneath that embarrassment was a deep sense of awe.
The system worked. My accidental smoke was someone else's priority.
There is something profoundly
humbling about living in a society where safety infrastructure works seamlessly
even when you do not understand all of it yet. It also made me think of how
many lives, businesses, and dreams might have been saved in Nigeria if such
systems were in place.
Fire does not discriminate. But
systems do. Systems either protect or neglect, and unfortunately, where I come
from, it is often the latter. In Finland, it felt like my safety was
non-negotiable. Even a whiff of trouble brought immediate attention.
I remember a story from a few
years ago, Ariaria market in Aba, experienced a fire disaster. Hundreds of
traders lost everything. No smoke detectors, no fire response in minutes, sometimes
not at all. People tried to form water chains with buckets. Others simply
watched, helpless.
Another time, a family friend
lost her beauty salon to an electrical fire caused by a faulty air conditioner.
The building had no detector, no extinguisher, no insurance. Just tears and
ashes.
In Nigeria, we have come to normalize fire tragedies. The shock of loss, the public outcry, the resignation to fate, it is a loop we have sadly grown used to. Prevention? Not widely practiced. Detection? Rare. Response? Delayed, if it comes at all.
Why the Alarm Mattered
That shrimp-frying incident in Finland
left me startled but grateful. It made me think about how a simple system just
a small, round device on the ceiling can be the difference between a minor
kitchen mishap and a full-blown tragedy.
And here is the thing: it was not
about how the system worked; it was about how the society worked. The
fire service arrived not because I screamed for help but because someone or
something was listening.
This is a level of care embedded in infrastructure. And it is not perfect, of course. But it is proactive, not reactive.
What We Can Learn
I often find myself straddling
two worlds my Nigerian past and my Finnish present. And moments like this make
me wish we could cross-pollinate more intentionally.
Imagine if every home in Nigeria
had a working smoke detector. If fire trucks were not things we only saw after
the damage was done. If safety was not a privilege, but a standard.
Of course, we have our challenges
funding, maintenance, awareness but we also have potential. Startups,
innovators, policymakers a space here for low-cost detection systems tailored
for our environment. We need education on fire safety, regulations for public
spaces, and real consequences for neglecting safety protocols.
We need to believe, as the Finns
do, that every life is worth protecting, even from a frying pan of shrimps.
But more than that, I am reminded
that safety is not just about following rules it is about valuing life, even in
the most ordinary of moments.
And for my brothers and sisters
back home, I hope this story becomes more than just a cautionary tale. I hope
it sparks a conversation about what we need to build, what we must demand, and
how even the smallest devices can become the guardians of our tomorrow.
🗣️ Let’s Talk
Have you ever experienced a moment that unexpectedly woke you up emotionally, mentally, or spiritually?
Drop your thoughts in the comments, I would love to hear your story.