Port Harcourt, the capital of Rivers State, is arguably the energy powerhouse of sub-Saharan Africa. Popular with expats working in the oil and gas industry, the bustling metropolis of over 1 million people is somewhat a miniaturised version of Nigeria’s economic centre—Lagos, the erstwhile federal capital. The city of Port Harcourt is not particularly renowned for its thriving business community but rather its strategic proximity to Nigeria’s cash cows—the oil and gas fields of the Niger Delta.
The city is the location of important petroleum installations in the Niger Delta—the resource-rich river basin on the Gulf of Guinea. Founded in 1912, two years before the amalgamation of the northern and southern protectorates by Lord Frederick Lugard into the country now called Nigeria, Port Harcourt since its incorporation has been destined for great things.
The surrounding region, of thickly forested mangrove swamps, was called Oil Rivers in 1884 when the British colonial administration declared it a protectorate.
The oil which the British made reference to at that time is that of the palm tree. Since the early 19th century, British merchants had encouraged oil palm plantations in the area and trade flourished well into the 20th century.
Nigeria would later become the world’s largest producer oil palm until 1937 when Malaysia in Southeast Asia stripped the country of its top spot. The discovery, in commercial quantities, of another kind of oil—fossil—in 1956 further reduced Nigeria’s production of oil palm. Today, Nigeria produces less oil palm and more crude oil.
But crude oil is oftentimes found along with natural gas. Whilst Nigeria is a top exporter of crude―currently the sixth largest producer, the country’s hydrocarbon reserve features more gas than crude oil. Until the 1980s when the Nigeria Liquefied Natural Gas Limited (NLNG) was incorporated, the country did not really utilize its enormous reserves for economic purposes. Rather the gas was flared.
Presently, Nigeria is placed second behind Russia on the list of gas flarers in the world. Every year the country flares enough gas to meet its energy demand yet Nigerian households have, on average, access to less than 600 kilowatt hours a year of electricity.
Some 14 years ago, I visited Port Harcourt for the first time as a young school leaver.
I had just completed my secondary education and I went to spend part of my gap year before university with my brother who at that time worked with Shell. After staying for a few days in one of the middle-class suburbs along the East-West Road, I knew something wasn’t quite right with the city. During the day, the sweltering heat made me miserable. At night, even when the temperature dropped slightly, I still felt very uncomfortable.
I found Port Harcourt’s nickname, ‘Garden City’ quite a misnomer because gardens are soothing to the senses—providing an escape from the unnaturalness of the indoors. This particular ‘garden’ had become a skin-deep assault as I watched beads of sweat form on my head and chest every day and night too.
Rather than being a garden that welcomed people into its inviting embrace, Port Harcourt had transmogrified into an open furnace. I hurriedly left the city that September and I have never returned since then.
Why would a city so near to the coast feel so hot in the middle of August, the peak of the wet season? Why couldn’t the heavy rains bring some relief? In school, I had been taught the various forms of environmental pollution: air, land, water [and noise]. But under which category does unbearable heat fall under? Now, I know.
Thermal pollution is real. And I know of a certainty that Port Harcourt suffers from this environmental malaise. The problem is however not restricted to the capital of Rivers State, it is a widespread issue that plagues much of the Niger Delta basin.
I want to see a future without fossils because I can’t imagine raising a family in an open furnace which the Niger Delta has since become. What is more, the noxious gases that are released into the atmosphere have health implications for Nigeria’s booming urban populations. Given that Nigeria’s major population centres with the exception of the national capital, Abuja, are not well planned; it problem of thermal pollution will only worsen if we don’t begin the process of diversifying from an oil-dependent economy into a greener one.
I remember from my visit to Port Harcourt that the only sane neighbourhood within the city is the Shell Reservation Area where the oil company houses its staff. Outside that sprawling gated community, life is generally chaotic and difficult. Although Port Harcourt is located in a resource-rich region, poverty and disease is a constant reality of everyday life because only a minute fraction of the population is directly involved in the creation of wealth.
Furthermore, the petroleum industry employs about 0.01% of the Nigerian workforce but contributes the most to the country’s GDP. This excludes much of the manpower and compels them to seek for work in other areas of the economy.
Unfortunately, Nigeria’s over-reliance on crude rents has led to the neglect of other key sectors that could create jobs, boost government revenues, and increase economic productivity. In other words, only a negligible fraction of the entire population is needed to create wealth from oil and lesser people actually benefit directly from it.
Indeed Port Harcourt can one day live up to its name as the ‘Garden City’ if the government will look beyond fossils. A return to oil palm powered with energy from wind farms can transform the local economy and attract foreign investment. What is more, agriculture is a more sustainable way of lifting millions of people out of poverty.
The value chain of oil palm allows for more people to be meaningfully engaged. I earnest await the day when the port facilities at Port Harcourt will once again become the world’s busiest for the export of oil palm and its products. Then and only then will I return to this lovely city that is destined for great things.
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Op–ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija
Kolawole Talabi is a multimedia journalist who writes on environment, science, culture and development topics. He is currently on assignment somewhere on the coast of Nigeria where he is assessing the loss of marine biodiversity. In 2015, he received the special award of the Haller Prize for Development Journalism. He tweets via @Kolawole_Talabi.
