By Muyiwa Adetiba
The first time I visited the hinterland of any Niger-Delta region was for a funeral. It was over 30 years ago, but that visit has been etched in my memory since then. Dusk, and a light shower, were   darkening the skies as we got to Warri.

But by the time we got to Aladja and beyond, the shower had turned into sleets. So it was on a dark, wet, slippery and lonely road that we were travelling. My growing apprehension was not for fear of being attacked or kidnapped— there was little of that nonsense then— but that we would miss an important turning and find ourselves lost in an unfamiliar territory on a dark, raining day.

Fortunately we, myself, spouse and driver, made it to our destination safely to an appreciative welcome by our hosts.

The traditional songs and dances at the wake keep were very delightful, especially for a first timer. They went very well with the palm wine and local brew that went round in generous proportions. But what struck me that evening, was how bright the cleared area was; so bright that we could all see clearly without any other source of light. The light was from a gas flare that seemed to be on top of us. The hotel too which was some 20 minutes drive, had its own natural ‘light’ nearby.

I had read about gas flares. I had seen some from the air on my way to Port Harcourt or where ever. But I had never felt so close to one. This was an experience my mind has refused to erase. When I complained about the gas flares the following day and the effect of a permanent light on my sleeping pattern, someone took me to a dark, ‘heavy’ body of water to show me what pollution had done to their vegetation and way of life.

Not too long after this experience, I had to travel to Abuja to see a retired military governor who had just moved to Asokoro. This area was still in its early stages of development, but the signs of an elitist, up market settlement were there as architectural master pieces were in different stages of completion. You didn’t need anybody to tell you the injustice that was being perpetuated because the money that was developing this place came from the bowels of a ruined, neglected region. It is the kind of injustice that has kept us down as a nation because it negates our attempts at forging unity.

Around this time—remember it was about 30years ago— I tried to seek answers to some uncomfortable questions. How could we look away when the ecology and a way of life of a people were being destroyed? How could we allow the oil companies to get away with pre-meditated and sustained annihilation of a people? How could we be so callous— or stupid— as to neglect the goose that was laying such beautiful eggs? And the conscience—or lack of it— that makes us to fill our dinner tables with generous portions of these eggs. Why could we not develop these areas like other oil producing countries had done?

They were questions that led to some uncomfortable truths. I learnt how some local elites in the affected areas lined their pockets and looked away; how people used the region to get good education and threw away the ladder; how they were more interested in using the oil spills as instruments of blackmail than in seeking genuine redress. Many of these people I heard, were on retainership with oil companies, feeding fat on the ruination of their communities. Then the national elites took their cues from the local ones— why should they be holier than the Pope? The civilian and military leaders lined their pockets and diverted funds to develop private estates.

So it was easy to empathise with Ken Saro-Wiwa when he started to sensitise the world about the injustice of it all. Or the militants when they took up arms until they criminalised the whole thing and lost people’s respect.

On the other hand, it was also easy to understand why the local elites did not take umbrage when Ibori and Alamieyesiegha exemplified the many civilian and military governors who had developed and enriched everywhere else except their states. These are leaders who care more for money and power than the genuine interests of their people.

So when E.K Clark and the many South-South leaders advocate the return of Jonathan irrespective of his performance, irrespective of the state of the nation in almost all critical areas of governance, you can see why. It is more for their continued access to power and the accoutrements of power than a genuine love for their people.  Unfortunately, these leaders are so blinded by easy money that they cannot recognise that a once in a life time opportunity is passing them by.

And if the President is thinking about the legacy to bequeath to his people, he will have to go beyond shelling money to a few of his praise singers. He has the clout for the moment, to push for national and international awareness on the environmental situation of the region. He has the power, if only he recognises it, to clean up the place. He is in a position, if only he can see, to advance the cause of derivation. And if he wills it, he can make the oil system more transparent and thus generate more money for his region.

He has had five years to make his region an investor’s haven. Five years to encourage and strengthen a true federal system that will liberate his people and stop the feudal system of doles and patronages. Five years to bequeath a true legacy to his people. He is running out of time and a life time opportunity for the minorities is slipping away.