by Ken Wiwa
05-03-06 Kidnappings and ethnic war in Nigeria have one root cause -- oil.
The power struggles and corruption that flow from it have claimed thousands of
lives.
Eleven years after his father was killed there, Ken Wiwa reports from the Niger
Delta on the persistent conflict that is tearing the country apart. Mr Wiwa's
article follows:
In a hotel in the city of Warri in southern Nigeria, a mobile phone rings
impatiently. Even at six in the morning the city is roasting under a fierce sun.
Warri is waking up to another hard day in its hard history. Populated mainly by
three ethnic groups, it has been the theatre for the fierce rivalry and drama
that animates the Itshekiri, Urhobo and Ijaw. Money has since been poured onto
this smouldering ethnic fire from the proceeds of oil, turning the city into an
industrial beast with the character of a frontier town.
At the end of the phone is a deep baritone voice. "I am Adams of MEND," the
caller says, revealing himself as a member of the newly notorious militia, the
Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta.
A few minutes after the call a new okada pulls up outside the hotel. A short
young man steps off the small motorbike.
"Please come mister journalist, I know you," he calls out, "I am Adams of MEND."
After a short bike ride and a two-hour speedboat journey, we arrive at a small
village community to the west of Warri. As the boat comes to a stop, about 25
men emerge from a house, armed with AK 47 rifles and with rocket-fired grenades
wrapped around their waists. The insurgents don't bother to hide their identity.
They are polite and friendly. At a thatched house in the community, which they
insist on calling a "camp", the militants showcase their arsenal, repeatedly
insisting that they are prepared to go to war.
The history, politics and culture of the Niger River Delta is as rich,
complex and intricate as the ecology of the Africa's largest floodplain. The
delta covers an area of dense rainforest, sand ridges, mangrove forests and
swamps with a labyrinthine distribution of tidal channels, streams, rivers and
creeks. Rich in natural resources such as timber, coal, palm oil, natural gas
and crude oil, it is also one of the most densely populated areas of the globe
and one of the world's largest wetlands. And it is virtually impossible to
patrol.
This rich but fragile ecosystem is often described as the heart and lungs of
Nigeria and, since oil was discovered there in 1956, the region has delivered
some $ 300 bn to Nigeria's treasury.
It is the revenue from oil that keeps the 400 or so ethnic groups known as
Nigeria together. Without it, the country might already have split. The kola nut
that binds the agreement at the heart of the Nigerian constitution is known as
the "derivation formula".
At independence in 1960, each of Nigeria's three regions was entitled to half
the revenue from minerals found there, with the balance going to the federal
government. Over the next 30 years fiscal chicanery reduced the formula so that
the regions received as little as 1.3 %; central government got the rest.
In the 90s my father, Ken Saro-Wiwa, stoked the embers of Niger Delta
politics, agitating for a greater share of federal oil revenue. There had been a
history of groups and movements demanding a greater share of the resources, the
struggles alternating between violent and non-violent. One such movement, led by
an Ijaw army officer, Isaac Boro, declared a Federal Republic of Niger Delta in
1966. It lasted 12 days.
Boro was killed in mysterious circumstances during the Nigerian civil war but
his memory has periodically fanned the flames of Niger Deltans and especially
those of his Ijaw peoples who are the largest ethnic group in the region and the
fourth-largest in Nigeria.
During his lifetime my father proselytised on behalf of the region but it
wasn't until he anchored his political philosophy to the rights of the Ogoni
that he attracted national and then global attention to the problems of the
delta. His adoption of a non-violent approach was met with state violence by the
then ruling military regime of General Sani Abacha.
In my father's final statement to the tribunal that convicted him in October
1995, he wrote: "I predict that a denouement of the riddle of the Niger Delta
will soon come. The agenda is being set at this trial. Whether the peaceful ways
I have favoured will prevail depends on what the oppressor decides, what signals
it sends out to the waiting public."
It may come as a surprise to the visitor but Port Harcourt is known as the
"garden city". Once a quiet, leafy place on the Atlantic coast, now the city's
streets and neighbourhoods are a study in the challenges of governing Nigeria.
The city's okada drivers and mass transit drivers appear to obey only one rule:
to defy common sense and traffic regulations whenever possible.
Despite road users' worst intentions, the Port Harcourt traffic is approaching
manageable proportions and the city is enjoying a relatively peaceful dry season
-- but most people here are aware that the respite may be temporary. All the
ingredients for civil strife are in the air: the city is not far from Owerri,
scene of bloodshed over the Danish cartoons. Every week people pour in from
Warri and the western Niger Delta, fleeing the upsurge in violence. Foreigners
increasingly employ armed guards.
Almost as unquantifiable and uncontrollable as the delta itself is the
informal network of armed youths who claim to be fighting for the emancipation
of the Niger Delta. Their exact origins, size and operations are not easy to
gauge. The lack of employment and career opportunities tempted many young
graduates and unemployed youths into criminal syndicates.
A recent addition to criminal activities is oil bunkering -- siphoning oil from
pipelines onto barges, which are then sold on the high seas. Official estimates
suggest that Nigeria loses 100,000 barrels daily through oil bunkering. The
lucrative practice is rumoured to involve the complicity of oil company
employees and highly placed government officials.
The full story is waiting to be told. Thus far only two naval officers have
being held in connection with bunkering but it is an open secret among youths
here that the “business” is an alliance of mutually beneficial arrangements
between officials, soldiers, ex-soldiers and the militias. If the business is
shrouded in clandestine operations, the chain of violence is clear enough: Human
Rights Watch says that oil bunkering is responsible for fuelling the
gang-related violence in the delta that killed 1,000 Nigerians in 2004.
Port Harcourt and the eastern Niger Delta may be relatively calm -- due to the
non-violence that the Ogoni advocated -- but there is a deeper irony in that
much of the current instability in the Niger Delta can be traced to armed gangs
that mushroomed and thrived there.
Beyond belonging to a mutual admiration society, Osama bin Laden and Niger
Delta militia leader Alhaji Asari Dokubo have one other thing in common: the
global oil markets respond to their actions. Asari Dokubo gained his notoriety
in 2004 when his threat to blow up all oil facilities in the delta sent oil
prices soaring above $ 50 for the first time. Calling his group the Niger Delta
People's Volunteer Force (NDPVF), Asari Dokubo claimed right up to his arrest in
September 2005 that he had 10,000 men ready to reclaim the resources of the
Niger Delta for its people.
Whether or not the figures are correct, the reality is that the NDPVF is a
decentralised amalgam of groups working in cells that are connected only by a
common ambition. For a time Asari Dokubo was clearly the leader but his star
peaked after sending oil prices past the $ 50 barrier and waned once the Bush
administration encouraged the Nigerian government to broker an
arms-for-cash-deal with the NDPVF.
The "deal" is said to have caused some disagreements within the NDPVF,
leading to the creation of the breakaway faction operating as MEND. Although the
NDPVF's fortunes appear to be linked to the personality ofAsari Dokubo, the last
demands by MEND that Asari Dokubo be freed would suggest that the network is
intact and perhaps working under an umbrella movement.
Tackling oil bunkering is the nettle that needs to be grasped and government
efforts to do so led, indirectly and unintentionally, to the recent spate of
hostage taking and kidnappings.
If President Obasanjo had hoped that a Joint Military Task Force would cut
off the supply of oil, arms and money to the militia, he will be disappointed by
the results so far. Reports suggest that, rather than enforcing the peace, the
activities of some members of the JTF, as the task force is known, have created
resentment among local people and the militia.
"When we saw they were involved [in oil bunkering] the boys got angry," one
youth told us. "Why should they take away the oil when they are not even from
here?"
Other reports accuse the soldiers of taking over the lucrative boat rental
business to oil companies, which used to be the preserve of local operators.
"Because of JTF, we are almost unemployed now. Officers go to the oil companies
and supply them boats for security patrol. We charge less but the oil companies
prefer them because of their military connection," an operator told.
The latest sequence of events began on January 11 when MEND militants stormed
a Shell oil vessel and took four foreigners on board hostage. MEND made a
three-pronged demand: the release of Asari Dokubo; freedom for the impeached
Bayelsa State Governor, Diepreye Alamieyeseigha, who is on trial on money
laundering charges; and payment of $ 1.5 bn approved by the Nigerian Senate as
compensation from Shell to communities affected by oil spills.
Four days later in a show of strength MEND militia attacked two houseboats,
killing 15 JTF soldiers. Two weeks later MEND announced the release of the
hostages on humanitarian grounds -- and three communities were attacked by a JTF
helicopter gunship.
The JTF claimed the attacks were meant to stamp out oil bunkering but
insiders insist that they were reprisal raids. Nine more hostages were taken in
response to these attacks and, although six of them have since been released,
the militia have vowed to fight on until the federal government meets their
demands.
"We are continuing with our attacks on oil facilities and oil workers. We will
act without further warning," they said.
So far they have not fulfilled their promise but the country is holding its
breath.
Oil markets are jittery and, although the situation appears to be contained in
the delta for now, this being Nigeria, anything is possible.
Source: freeinternetpress.com