Down (and out) in the delta

The patch of southern Nigeria known as the Niger delta (where the Niger River splits into tributaries before dumping into the Gulf of Guinea) has some of the most productive oil fields in the world. But it's the tragedy of Nigeria - and of so much of the rest of Africa - that the wealth has been squandered with world-class efficiency. You only have to drive down the main road from the airport to see this - the road has been in progress for about five years, and within a few kilometers it disintegrates into dirt and mud, interrupted every so often by police officers - maybe - trying to extort small bribes of about 25 U.S. cents.

 

This is not to say no one's getting rich off of oil. Besides officeholders, there are militants, who have been causing havoc in the delta for years. On the pretense of agitating for more equitable distribution of oil wealth, the well-armed militants are in fact making a killing by stealing oil directly from pipelines - a practice known as "bunkering" - and selling it on the black market. Owning your own oil barrel is almost a necessity for an up-and-coming militant.

 

My fixer arranged an interview at the home of one of these guys, and I was astonished to see he had more and newer electronics in his living room than I in my entire house, plus one of those Motorola Razor cellphones. (I was also astonished, if that's the word, to hear him threaten that the militants might try to kidnap Bush to get the world's attention. He said this while jabbing a thick finger in my face, so I listened sympathetically.)

 

Going around the delta talking to people, I had the feeling of dropping in on a story that is in some ways similar (I imagine) to reporting on an ongoing story like the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. By which I mean that the problems in the delta are decades old, millions of words have been spent writing about them, and little has improved. The violence is slowly getting worse in the delta, but that seems largely the product of a few pissed-off people. The majority of people seem resigned to the fact that things are not going to change for the better in their lifetimes. They are used to talking to journalists, but they are equally used to the fact that we can't do anything for them.

 

"We are suffering and smiling," the Bush-hating militant told me. For all their problems, Nigerians were recently found to be the most optimistic people in the world, and everyone I've met here has been welcoming - not the thugs I'd been warned to be wary of. Maybe it's because I've been here at a pretty cool time for the country - the national soccer team has reached the semis of the African Cup of Nations, and I've somehow gotten really into this team. I missed my flight out of the delta on Saturday and had to wait at the tiny, steaming airport for three hours - but it worked out great because I got to watch Nigeria's quarterfinal match with Tunisia, the defending champs.

 

After raising a mock-fuss with the Virgin Nigeria ticket agent (it was really my fault I'd been late) they whisked me up - despite my general unshaven, American-backpacker appearance - to the airport's "executive lounge," where I had the comfort of paying $7 for a cup of tepid instant coffee. But the lounge did have A/C and TVs, so for the next two hours I sat among my fellow executives watching Nigeria and Tunisia battle to a 1-1 tie, then a series of dramatic penalty kicks. When Nigeria squeezed it out, I was already on my way down to check in for the flight, and I found myself going crazy along with the rest of the airport terminal. Some big smelly guy asked if I was from Tunisia, and when I said no, he hugged me. I never felt so at home.