01 One hundred and thirty-nine point seven

It is worth translating the percentage into what it means. Growth of 139.7 % in ten years means the city ended up with almost two and a half times the population it had at the start of the decade. In terms of housing, water, transport and schools, that amounts to building another city and a half on top of the first.

The available reference point is the 2006 census, which gave 776,298 inhabitants. That figure falls right in the middle of the decade of the jump, so it serves to size the starting point rather than the finishing one. The city had become the capital only fifteen years earlier, on 12 December 1991.

02 A plan built for another pace

The plan foresaw rings that would be added in order. The city arrived before the rings did.

To understand why that figure matters you have to look at how the city was drawn. The master plan was delivered in February 1979 by the consortium International Planning Associates, led by the practice Wallace, Roberts, McHarg & Todd, with the Japanese architect Kenzo Tange refining the central districts.

Its structure is concentric and staged: five phases unfolding from the Aso Rock monolith outwards, taking in more than fifty districts. Each phase is a ring, and the idea is that the next ring is built once the previous one is complete. It is an orderly and perfectly reasonable model.

The model has an implicit condition that is not always stated: that growth arrives at the anticipated pace. A phased plan works when demand for land advances more slowly than the delivery of infrastructure. When the opposite happens, people settle where they can before the ring exists.

A granite monolith seen from a wooded meadow: the rock, enormous and of a single piece, rises at the centre of the frame with a smooth rounded dome in grey-brown, streaked by vertical runoff channels and with scrub gripping the ledges at its base; to its left it continues in a lower, broken spur; in the middle ground and foreground stretches a surface of mown, undulating grass, dotted with broad-crowned trees and crossed by a narrow stream on the left; the sky a very pale, milky blue with haze.
Aso Rock, the point from which the plan's five phases unfold. The whole layout is measured from here.Mark Fischer / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 2.0·CC BY-SA 2.0

03 What you see in the street

The result reads clearly as you move through the city, and it is what makes Abuja a case study at street level. In the central districts, the plan's first, everything answers to the drawing: generously wide avenues, regular blocks, trees planted in line and freestanding institutional buildings spaced apart.

That spaciousness is the signature of a city planned in one go, and also its most visible peculiarity. The central avenues are clearly oversized for a pedestrian: they are crossed in stages and the distances between pieces are measured in kilometres, not blocks.

As you move out into the later rings, the relationship between plan and city loosens. Denser fabrics appear, more improvised building and a different urban rhythm. It is not a flaw of execution: it is the physical trace of growth that ran far faster than the paper anticipated.

A monumental pedestrian axis in an urban park, photographed from its start in central perspective: a wide roadway of pale limestone slabs runs straight towards the back, flanked on both sides by a low parapet of the same material and by a continuous row of water jets rising from rectangular channels, repeating in perspective; beyond the jets stretch lawns of mown grass, flower beds and dense tropical trees, with fan palms on the right; at the end of the axis, and perfectly centred on it, rises a rounded rock monolith; the sky covered with large white cumulus.
The planned centre, with its axis, its fountains and its perfectly aligned termination. This is how the whole city was drawn on paper.Jula2812 / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 4.0·CC BY-SA 4.0

04 How to look at it

The useful way to cover Abuja with this idea in mind is to do it in chronological order, which here coincides with geographical order. You start in the central districts, beside the rock, and work outwards. Each ring corresponds to a different moment, and the difference between them is perfectly legible.

Three specific things are worth watching: the width of the roadway, the distance between buildings and the state of the street trees. All three change clearly as you pass from one phase to another, and all three tell when each piece was built better than any plaque.

A granite monolith seen from an urban dual carriageway under a storm sky: the rock, a rounded grey-brown dome with dark runoff streaks, fills the centre of the frame and stands out against a mass of low leaden cloud; its flanks and the adjoining rises are covered in dense green vegetation; in the middle ground runs a two-way asphalt road with a planted median, curved lamp standards, a low red-roofed building and a white boundary wall; four cars are driving along it and a solitary figure walks on the verge; in the foreground, a bank of freshly mown green grass.
An urban expressway with a planted median and young trees. The scale is designed for the vehicle, not the pedestrian.Uzoma Ozurumba / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 4.0·CC BY-SA 4.0

And there is a conclusion that goes beyond this city. Abuja is one of the few capitals in the world built whole from a drawing, and it is also the one that put that drawing through the hardest growth test on record. What you see walking it is not a failed plan: it is a plan overtaken by reality.

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Lucía Montes

Worth Knowing editor · Flowtravel

Lucía stops at what a place takes for granted and nobody explains.