What Would Happen If Lagos Banned Horns for a Day?

Lagos Without Horns? Madness.

Lagos is powered by three things: vibes, traffic, and car horns. Now imagine someone—most likely a government official with zero experience in Lagos danfo survival—decides to ban car horns for an entire day. No ‘pom pom’, no ‘kpa kpa’, no aggressive ‘gbim gbim’ to warn you that your life is in danger.

Would Lagosians survive? Would the roads descend into silent chaos? Would LASTMA officers finally know peace? I needed answers, so I stepped into the madness.

Hour 1: The Confusion Begins

I entered the road with my usual Lagos mentality—head on a swivel, ready for war. But something was off.

The streets were… quiet. No impatient honking from danfo drivers. No ‘peem peem’ from that Toyota Camry that always acts like it owns the express. Just eerie, awkward silence. Lagosians were confused. I was confused. Even the okada guys, usually the first to break any law, were obeying. Suspicious.

Hour 3: The Silent War Begins

By now, the problem was clear. Lagos drivers had lost their most powerful weapon: communication. Because in Lagos, car horns aren’t just noise. They are a whole language.

• One short honk = “Move, abeg!”
• Two quick honks = “Comot for road!”
• One long honk = “You dey craze??”
• Rapid fire honking = “You are mad, your father is mad, everybody in your lineage is mad.”

Without horns, nobody could insult each other properly. Frustration was building.

A danfo tried to switch lanes, but without honking to alert the rest of us, it just froze mid-road like a WiFi connection buffering. Behind him? A keke guy unsure whether to overtake or stay put. Behind them? A frustrated Lagosian in a Benz tapping his steering wheel like it was a musical instrument.

It was like watching a Nigerian parent try to send a voice note without pressing the record button.

Hour 6: The Signs of Rebellion

At this point, people were breaking down. The silence was too much for their Lagos spirit. Since horns were banned, drivers found other ways to communicate.

One man was banging his car door like a talking drum. Another was shouting out his window: “Oga, move na!” Meanwhile, a bus conductor, unable to shout Oshodi Oshodi! while honking, just resorted to clapping aggressively.

Then came the most dangerous adaptation: Lagosians started making their own horn sounds. With their mouths.

I kid you not—grown men and women were going:

• “Peem peem!” (Excuse me, sir, I need to pass.)
• “Kpa kpa kpa!” (I will hit you, no try me.)
• “Gbo gbo gbo gbo!” (This one na expressway, abeg comot.)

Even okada riders joined in. I heard one scream “GBIM GBIM” in his best horn impression before zooming past. At this point, I knew the law had failed.

Hour 10: The Breakdown of Society

By evening, Lagos had officially collapsed. Gridlock everywhere. Nobody could maneuver. Traffic lights were being ignored. Pedestrians were running for their lives.

One man, desperate to honk but bound by the law, just stuck his head out and blew a whistle like a referee. A danfo driver near me had finally lost it—he picked up his horn ban flyer, tore it into pieces, and started banging his head on his steering wheel. I swear I saw a LASTMA officer remove his uniform and walk into the bush.

The horn ban had broken Lagos.

Midnight: Lagosians Take Back Their City

At exactly 12:00 AM, the ban ended. And Lagosians did not waste time. The first honk rang out like an alarm bell. Then another. Then a thousand. The city came back to life in full volume.

Danfo drivers honked like they were playing jazz. Private car owners honked out of spite. Okada guys honked just to celebrate freedom.

By 12:05 AM, Lagos was fully restored. The horn ban had failed. Lagosians had won.

The Verdict: Can Lagos Survive Without Horns?

NO. NEVER. NOT IN THIS LIFE.

• A Lagosian without a horn is like a Nigerian party without jollof rice. It just doesn’t work.
• Traffic doesn’t move by itself. It needs fear. And fear comes from honking.
• Lagos is not a place of peace. And that’s okay.

So, to anyone thinking of banning car horns again: we are not ready for that conversation. Lagos must honk. Lagos will honk. Lagos is honk.

Hey Luv, Waitttttttt. Feel More Crackko Vibe:

Ever wondered what happens when you mix ancient traditions with modern social media? Find out in our collection of thought-provoking cultural stories in Cultural Experiments.

Would you survive Lagos without horns? Drop your thoughts in the comments!