| Page 2 of 2 < |
From Boom to Bust in Nigeria

Buy Photo
Discussion Policy
Comments that include profanity or personal attacks or other inappropriate comments or material will be removed from the site. Additionally, entries that are unsigned or contain "signatures" by someone other than the actual author will be removed. Finally, we will take steps to block users who violate any of our posting standards, terms of use or privacy policies or any other policies governing this site. Please review the full rules governing commentaries and discussions. You are fully responsible for the content that you post.
|
On New Year's Day, militants attacked the hotel. Sixteen people were killed, and Stafsen was shot in the back. The hotel, which used to be nearly full most nights, now has an average occupancy rate of 15 percent. Joseph Bacha, who is from Lebanon, said his restaurant, the Blue Elephant, has remained open throughout the tumult. He attributes his success to hard work and efforts to improve Nigerian cuisine to attract wealthy locals. "That, and for one year and six months I didn't go outside the gates. Not ever," he said.
Government officials concede that the problems damaged the city and region but say order has been restored. The insecurity "has really hurt the Niger Delta region, not just Port Harcourt, in so many ways," said state information commissioner Nwuke Ogbonna. "But we're going after them. We're trying to guarantee more security for people wanting to come out at night and enjoy the city. We believe that we are on top of the situation now."
Residents say fear and suspicion, of militants and the police, pervades Port Harcourt.
Moabel Nwosu, 38, serves spicy soups and rice dishes from the restaurant she runs on her small, ramshackle porch. But in the past six months, customers have dwindled.
"Police come at any time and arrest anybody," she said. "They pass by and harass my customers. If I say, 'Officer, you are disturbing my business,' they say, 'Don't talk or we'll arrest you.' People are afraid of the police. They don't come and eat."
Around the corner, Ike Osita, 24, said he has been arrested five times in the past year. "I was on my way home from work, and they arrested me for nothing," he said, adding that the police took him to a nearby prison and demanded 7,000 naira, or $60, for his release.
Police say they are just doing their job according to the law. "We conduct shows of force every Sunday, when we go around and tell citizens they can go about their business," said the state police commissioner, Bala Hassan. "It's much better than it used to be. We follow the rule of law religiously. We don't have problems of human rights violations in Port Harcourt."
Efforts at long-lasting reform in the delta, such as peace talks and wealth-sharing agreements, have been ineffectual. According to analysts, a large part of the problem is that politicians and military leaders are linked to the region's instability.
"The federal government contributes 150 million naira [$1.3 million] to the military every month," said Elias Courson, a professor at Niger Delta University. "So now someone who was sleeping in the military quarters is suddenly in a duplex with free food, people at his beck and call, and you want him to accept peace in the creeks? No, he will create more conflict."
A Westerner in the oil and gas industry who has lived in Port Harcourt for 20 years said he saw a similar pattern of government abuse. "It makes no difference to the people in the government what happens to the city, they're making money," he said, speaking on the condition of anonymity to avoid alienating potential clients. "They don't care. They have no interest if this place manages or not."
The government body established with the sole mandate of improving the delta, the Niger Delta Development Commission, has come under fire for corruption. Its chairman was suspended last month for paying $4 million to a witch doctor to perform rituals against a potential rival.
The Rev. Humphrey Nsirim, who travels to the creeks and waterfronts to find boys trying to avoid or escape gang life, said that without work, there is no chance for them to change.
"They're not militants; they're victims of their time and of wicked men who want to use them for their own ends," Nsirim said. "The challenge is not if they want to change or not, but what to do with them now."





