Warri Story

SorryO!

2006-06-19T14:57:00.000-07:00

Jon:

Let me start by apologising for not keeping you abreast of our Warri Story. Clearly blogging is not my forte. I wish I had a decent excuse. I could claim to have been kidnapped by the Delta militia for the past three months but you would say even hostages are able to send e-mails. In my defence, you need to realise that the Tipping clan have, for generations, been afflicted with a rare genetic disorder known as Lazium Reclinis Couchis, commonly known as Chronic Idleness. Whenever the disease strikes it leaves the victim totally helpless and incapacitated. The only known cure is a strict regime of sleep and more sleep, interspersed with long, hot soaks in the bath. Oh, how we suffer!

Anyway, back to our story. We both now see Warri as our true home. Even though we are looking forward to seeing family and friends next week during our holiday, we will surely miss Warri. Our house is starting to resemble a home and we are growing accustomed to the wonderful Delta environment. But we are most grateful for the friends we have made, both in the camp and outside.

We have joined a cool church located in the town centre, a ten minutes drive through the manic streets of Warri. The 'Father's House' was set up six years ago by a couple, a Nigerian guy who is married to a Romanian lady. They were both doctors and had established a successful private hospital in Warri. However, following a period in the US, they decided to return to Nigeria to start a church. This decision was taken against the protestations of their children and friends who couldn't believe they were prepared to throw away lucrative careers in the American medical profession. They ignored all the advice and returned to Warri with the plan to convert their old hospital into a church building. Six years on, they have constructed a third floor auditorium onto the hospital and, from an initial group of 30 people, the congregation is fast approaching 1000.

The Sunday services can be long, sometimes well over four hours but never boring. The church has a vibrant, rhythmic, truly African worship combined with excellent, solid teaching (a rare occurrence in African churches where traditional beliefs or American extremism can easily infiltrate the proceedings). It is also refreshing that we are not treated differently from other members even though we stand out from the crowd (and I mean literally stand out with our pale white faces towering above the congregation!).

On the work front, I have some major news. Last week, I made the decision to end my contract with Shell's Community Development department. The reasons for this are too many to detail here. In brief, I was becoming very frustrated with the slow pace of reform in the organisation and did not feel I was given the opportunity to add my views to the planning process. As I have mentioned in previous blogs, the development of the Niger Delta is a highly complex issue and tangible improvements in the lives of the extreme poor will not be effected overnight. In order for the most impoverished to see real benefits there has to be a gradual process of development. The quick-fix solutions that government and oil companies tend to opt for are totally ineffectual. Passing through the Delta you cannot help but notice the graveyards of failed projects that litter the landscape. These provide a lasting testament to the futility o funding grand projects, originally built to kick-start development. The only winners are the companies who are awarded the contracts and the crooks who accept the bribes. The sad reality is that this crazy process continues today.

So what will I do now that I have finished at Shell. Firstly I have enrolled on a distance learning Masters course in International Development which I will carryout on a part-time basis over a number of years. I am interested to learn more of the overarching concepts of development with the aim of breaking away from a career focussed solely on water and sanitation.

In addition to the study, I plan to start-up an NGO (non-governmental organisation). The plan is to register the organisation both in Nigeria and the UK. The organisation in the UK will mainly be there as a fundraiser and to raise awareness. The main reason for going down this road is that there are few other development NGOs based in Warri. This is surprising given the desperate conditions of the surrounding villages. The aim of the NGO will be to work with community groups and other organisations who have experience in the region. I will initially concentrate on water, sanitation and hygiene promotion initiatives as this is my main area of expertise. If the NGO proves to be successful, I will then look to expand into other areas of support. I have already made a number of good contacts who are active in the community development sector. One such organisation is New Foundations whom I came into contact with last month.

A few weeks ago, a colleague mentioned that Shell's health department had worked with New Foundations, a small British charity, and wondered whether I had come across them. I was very surprised to hear that another Brit was working in a similar field in Warri. I got in touch with the contact person, a guy called Francis, who is the pastor of the church with whom New Foundations partner. I was informed that Dr David Donovan, the founder of the organisation, would be in town the following weekend. It turned out that David is a GP in Cambridge and uses his holiday to visit Warri twice a year in order to run medical camps in the swamps. Just a coincidence he was visiting at the time of my enquiry.

On the Saturday I met up with David at the health clinic which his team are constructing in Warri. He explained the work they are doing and asked whether I was interested in joining him for a couple of days to witness their work in the riverine communities. Given the recent militia activity in the swamps, I was initially a little apprehensive but Nolda convinced me it was a good opportunity to see 'real' community development. So the following week, I set off with Francis out to the field. We initially travelled for one hour in the church minibus. Thankfully, they have put a huge "MISSIONARY" sign on the front of the vehicle which means less wahalla (problems) at the police road blocks.

We made it to the riverside only to learn that the New Foundations' boat had engine trouble and could only propel at half speed. After a two hour delay, we finally set off down river. It was then, as we passed the riverside villages, that I fully understood the immense challenges faced when planning development activities in the swamps. Accessibility is a nightmare. Even with a high-speed motorboat, it can take up to a day to reach the distant communities. There are others which are inaccessible by both river and road, where the only means to reach the village is to trek through the rainforest. In time, some of the areas will be serviced by roads, however for most villages this will be a distant dream. They will continue to have goods delivered by slow boats that take days to arrive and double the product costs in the process.

The conditions in the communities are desperate. David and his team had conducted a rough survey in some villages asking mothers the total number of children that had given birth to and how many were still alive. The results are staggering. Six out of ten children die in these villages, most under the age of five. With such high mortality rates, it is no wonder a woman's role is to give birth to as many children as possible. There are many reasons for these dire statistics: malnutrition, poor hygiene, high malaria, lack of proper ventilation in home, no health facilities, poor education...the list continues. If you consider the water issue alone, you can get an idea of the scale of the problem. People drink water, bathe and go the toilet at the banks of a river that is already contaminated from the waste of rest of Nigeria. For a child who is already undernourished and weak, drinking this cocktail of pollutants is lethal.

After an hour and a half in the boat, we finally met up with David and the team. They had set up a basic health clinic in a school and were frantically trying to register, vaccinate and provide medical checks for scores of women and children who had turned up. Alongside the daily clinics, they were also running an eye cataract surgery in a room of a local chief's mansion. A group of two doctors and two assistants were busy from morning to late at night, performing eye cataract operations, a relatively simple task but one that is not available normally to the people in the Delta. Without surgery, they become blind in the infected eye with a high chance of total loss of sight in the future. To see the joy on the patients' faces when they remove the eye patch following the operation was beautiful (check out the videos on the NF website, link opposite).

New Foundations is only a small charity but have a number of very effective, simple activities and it was amazing to see the impact these had in the communities. The experience showed me the importance of village-level organisations who are willing to take a few risks and get their hands dirty. The experience of seeing New Foundation's work gave me the impetus to start something myself.

During my time in the swamps, I felt no animosity and I found that the communities very much welcomed and valued the work of New Foundations. In fact, the further into the swamps I travelled, the friendlier the people became. I would see more and more smiles and hands waving from the riverbanks. I will try to keep you all up-to-date of how the NGO thing progresses. Don't hold your breath though, I not only have to tackle with the bureaucracy in Nigeria but also that of the UK. Not sure which is worse.

I will finish on a totally different note with a picture of our driver, Femi, a wonderful guy but who is sometimes a little over enthusiastic!!

Calabar

2006-05-13T05:41:00.000-07:00

nolda:

We have not been disciplined with writing lately. I can imagine most of you have given up checking for new postings. We have been concentrating on our life here. We found a great church and we made new friends here (both Nigerian and Oyibo). All very exciting! We are also bit by bit exploring Nigeria. A lot of fun but very tiring.

Over Easter we went to see Calabar. This is at the border of Cameroon. Calabar has been the capital during the slave trade. There is still a museum to remind us of the horrible past. It really put me to shame to be part of the ‘white race’ who started the slave trade and are still often so arrogant to think we are better than Africans. Calabar was refreshing as it showed that not all of Nigeria is like Warri. Calabar is for us what the whole of Nigeria should be like. Shiny people, clean streets, Oyibos and Nigerians interacting at the same market. No aggressive bargaining. Jon became ecstatic when he noticed that in Calabar they have Water-Kiosks where you can buy a jerry can of water for 5 Naira. In Warri most people drink contaminated water from wells, mainly because they do not care or do not know the effects. Looking through our Calabar photographs, I noticed that we have mainly pictures of these Water-Kiosks. Sweet. He will always be a WATSAN (water & sanitation) fanatic.

We went to Calabar with Elisabeth and Edzard, friends from Port Harcourt. They are very similar to us. Same age, same passions, same motives for coming out to Nigeria. Elisabeth comes from the village next to my parent's home, Loenen aan de Vecht. She is from Breukelen. Very surreal! We flew to Port Harcourt and stayed over night with them. They had recently realised that they had employed an extremely bad driver. Unfortunately there was no time to get another driver for the 4-hour drive to Calabar. The next morning's drive was a nightmare. We had a number of near death experiences. He was by far the worst driver we'd ever seen. He was so short that he could just see above the steering wheel but could not notice the potholes. It was obvious he was not used to driving long distances. Probably his only expertise was to wait in the endless traffic jams of Port Harcourt. We were all wreaks by the time we arrived. What a way to start a holiday. The next day was spent recovering, but the whole experience brought us all closer together. We really enjoyed getting to know E&E more during the holiday.

We also had the chance to meet a volunteer couple working at monkey sanctuaries around Calabar. Very interesting to learn some basics about monkeys and to learn a bit more about the life of this couple from Holland. They were there for a year with no salary. The guy was working in the middle of the rainforest, the girl stuck in Calabar, with the full-time role of mother for a baby chimpanzee. Reminded me of the joys of being a volunteer for Medair out in northern Uganda. It was refreshing to talk to 'normal' people who are not linked the oil industry.

One evening Jonathan and I were in charge of finding a place to eat. We heard from the monkey couple that the best food in town was street food just down the road. We managed to convince Edzard and Elisabeth to give it a try. I think it was a totally new experience for them. We had so much fun. We went around the different stalls, all lit with kerosene lamps, and collected grilled fish grilled and beef on a stick. Next we convinced one of the bar owners to provide plates, cutlery and boiled rice. We had an amazingly tasty meal with cold drinks from the bar. We were eating outside with no other Oyibo in sight, a true Nigerian experience. The great thing was that we could keep returning to the stalls for more and more food, until we were completely satisfied.......and all for less than 12 euros in total (Jon ed. Very Dutch to remember the price!!). After months in the country, we finally felt part of Nigerian society.

It was sad to leave Edzard en Elisabeth after our holiday, but we are sure that we have made really good friends and we will see them again many times. Seems a bit of a shame they live in Port Harcourt and we in Warri. We feel blessed we got to know them.

The Wild West

2006-03-06T22:26:00.000-08:00

Jon:

Warri is the centre of Shell Nigeria's Western operations and is certainly living up to it's name. Cowboys, otherwise known as "Okada Boys" (Okadas are motorbike taxis) control the streets and the militia dominate the creeks. The rule of law is for the weak, those with money or power simply flaunt it. Assassinations are rife so all are aware of making enemies.

I came to Nigeria with an open mind and have certainly needed it. As in any country, a minority, intent on causing as much havoc as possible, spoil it for the rest. Delta State is no exception. These last weeks we have witnessed a further escalation of violent protests in the swamps. The militia have again attacked oil facilities and this time have been extremely successful. They seem to know precisely which targets will cause the greatest disruption to production.

It all started a few weeks ago when the military Joint Task Force (JTF) launched "Operation Restore Hope" (which assumes there has been hope at some point in the past!). The aim was to target the bunkering operation in the Delta region. Helicopter gunships carried out two air strikes targeting barges carrying stolen oil. That is the government's standpoint, the local Ijaw community's view is that villages were hit resulting in many civilian casualties.

The militia group, MEND (Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta) retaliated by attacking a number of key Shell facilities and taking nine hostages who were working for an American contractor. This was the second hostage taking this year and was proof that MEND were serious about carrying out their threats. The consequences of these attacks was that all Shell's oil production in the West were stopped and travel restrictions were enforced for staff. For the last two weeks, we have only been able to travel between the office and the living compound. Our planned holiday to Abuja and Jos in the north of Nigeria had to be cancelled.

The potential threat to expats was very concerning. We were told to pack an emergency bag in case of evacuation. A military platoon was stationed on the Shell living compound. They arrived one evening and for some reason ended up at our house requesting the use of our garage to store their belongings. Believing this was a temporary measure, we reluctantly agreed. Our garden soon became a camping ground for half the platoon. Each morning we would have to wake the soldiers and ask them to clear mattresses off the drive so we could at least reverse the car. Our main concern was that our house could become a target should the militia ever attack the camp. After a little negotiation, alternative accommodation was found for the soldiers. I would not want to be a soldier in Nigeria. Most haven't been paid for several months and have to endure appalling conditions, especially when patrolling the swamps. It is no surprise to hear that at the first sound of militia gunfire they drop their weapons, remove their uniform and run for their lives.

To date, six of the nine hostages have been released yet two American and one British are still held somewhere in the swamp. Reports from those freed say that the militia treat the hostages very well. An American guy, nicknamed "papa" by the hostage takers, was released last week on humanitarian grounds as it was his 69th birthday. Those behind the recent kidnappings do not want to harm expats, they just want to get international media attention for their cause. Their demands are for the Ijaw community to have a more control of the oil resources that is being taken from their land. The Ijaw people are some of the poorest in the whole of Nigeria and have seen little development since oil was discovered more than 50 years ago.

However, those native to the region claim that the true reason for the recent uprising lies with the illegal bunkering trade. This $1 billion per year business receives little attention but is as serious an issue as the major drug smuggling operations of South America (see link for a detailed report on bunkering in Nigeria). Everyone acknowledges bunkering exists yet very little has been done to combat it. The bunkering operations involve those at all levels of Nigerian society, from village chiefs, businessmen, police, military, all the way up high ranking government officials. The recent attack by the military apparently targeted barges owned by one of the largest cartels. This group has close links to a local Mafia boss who is not favoured by the government. The cartel is supported by MEND who in turn retaliated by attacking the heart of the government's source of revenue, Shell.

In the past, government forces have reacted harshly to such uprisings by the militia. Villages have been raised to the ground resulting in casualities to innocent Ijaw communities while the militia boys make a cowardly retreat back into the swamps. This heavy-handed military response is what is most feared and is the main reason MEND is holding on to three hostages.

The Nigerian government are calling for international assistance to help resolve the Niger Delta crisis. Their main request to foreign governments is for more military equipment to aid the war against the militia. As you can imagine, the West prefers the diplomatic road and is very cautious to offer direct military assistance given the country's notorious human rights record. Yet, behind the scenes, who knows what deals are being made. Nigeria is a major player in the West's addiction to oil, especially in providing the next fix for the US. I am sure Western governments will not allow a few militia men from the swamps to affect their precious oil supply.

And so where does all this leave Nolda and I. At the moment, the situation seems to be improving and we are able to travel more freely. Next weekend we hope to escape Warri and visit a small nature resort. Work for us continues at a snails pace! It is difficult to always stay positive in such difficult circumstances but we have to be optimistic that we can still have some impact, if only small. I will update you about my work at a later date. You must be bored of this blog by now.

Even though the outlook seems bleak for the Niger Delta, life continues and everyone pulls together. We have noticed in the camp that, through this troubled period, more social activities have been organised and friendships made. Outside the camp, the vibrancy of Warri town is not dampened and the smiles continue to shine amid the hard reality of life.

2 x gold

2006-02-28T12:57:00.000-08:00

nolda:

It’s already one and a half week ago that I swam in the Nigerian Oil Industry Games. Seems a lifetime away. Since the games we have had a crisis in Warri, but I’ll not write about the crisis now. I’ve talked about it too much over the last days.

Back to swimming. I arrived on Monday evening 13th February in Lagos. I booked into a luxurious hotel. Did not seem like Africa at all. Surreal. I managed to find some other swimmers after dinner. I was told to go for swim training the next morning at 7:00. I was shocked. I was planning on a relaxing few days. The next morning I showed up at 7 only to find out that they were just cleaning the pool and had just added fresh chlorine. Swimming was postponed to 10. Why was I not surprised? Fortunately I did not know that the organisation would only get worse.

Between 8 and 9.45 I went for a wander into Lagos. It is a city to be seen by car, but then again you would only get you stuck in the ever lasting traffic jams. I was not impressed with Lagos. For the first time I longed for home and found out home had shifted to Warri. A good sign!

Within the time span of 10 to 11 the other swimmers showed up for training. The swim trainer gave us a few minutes to warm up, after that we were summoned to get out of the water. For 45 minutes we watched him show us how to do all the strokes and dives that there are needed with the games. “ Now let me try this” I thought, but there was no time left. In my world I should have been swimming and he watching, but this is Nigeria. I’ve stopped asking questions.

Later that day two more Oyibo’s (white people) arrived, Menno and Marie. Menno is from Warri and Marie is a teacher from Port Harcourt. Both are very good swimmers. The Nigerians had seen Marie and me independent from each other in the pool. Only when we showed up together, did they figure out we were not the same person. She is a head smaller, totally different shaped body etc. “ How were we to know? All you Oyibo’s look alike” Was the comment of Golden and Doc (Two Nigerian team members). They had a point. I had trouble the first time I was surrounded by black people in Uganda. Now I am ashamed I was ever so ignorant.

Marie and I tried to figure out when the games would start. No one knew if one or two people per company could enter a competition. We decided to just try to arrive at the scene at 8 the next day and see what would happen. On the whole this is the best strategy in Nigeria.

Wednesday was a really long day. We arrived, but the referees and the organizers had not arrived. Half an hour later they arrived with two pens and a pile of paper. That was about as much preparation they had managed. Naturally no one had thought about dismantling the diving board. No wahala (pigin English for “ no problem”). They managed to take off the board in only 30 minutes. The metal structure underneath was too much work, so who ever was in lane 4 needed to dive at an angle and use the first few meters to get on course. Registration was on the spot before each race. The registration caused a number of near fistfights for various reasons, one of which was that you needed to show your company I.D. Bribes were paid, a lot of shouting and finally the first race could started. Woman’s breaststroke! “ Hey that’s me!” By that time it was 10 o’clock and I had lost all excitement and adrenaline. I went straight into the finals because there were so few girls swimming. At some points a guy showed up on the other side of the pool and said in a soft monotone voice “On your marks, Go.” This was so unexpected that I forgot to do anything. I dived my worst dive ever, but after that just swam like a machine. All went black. All I thought was: “ swim, swim, swim”. When I touched the wall on the other side I had won by 10 cm! My team went wild and pulled me out of the water. I was hugged and squeezed. The first gold!!!

The rest of the day were more heats and finals. Marie organises swimming races for kids and had previously managed to get 500 of them to swim all their races in 1.5 hours. It took us 9 hours and there were only 26 races (including heats) in total. So boring! There was no shade, no water, no chairs. I think this was a conspiracy to weaken the Oyibo’s spirit. I did hear comments that the Oyibo’s were stealing all the medals and that next time the Nigerian oil Games should only be for Nigerians. Thanks! Makes me feel welcome.

All the races for men were 66m and for women 33m. A lot of Nigerian men would start off really good, but 66 m is a killer. Stamina was not a strong point for most of these guys. The men’s back stroke heat was a good example of this. On the way back two guys stopped swimming and had to cling on to the ropes for their life. We thought it was a joke until they started dropping under water and coming up again. It took me some time to realize that it is theoretically possible for people to drown during national competitions.

Another amusing aspect of the games was that there was only one referee to check the finish order of 7 contestants. Stopwatches were not used at all. Most teams applied the strategy of acting as though their team member had won. Usually the referee had not seen it any way. If it was a close finish, the loudest team would get gold. Doc and Golden told me that the body language of the team is essential to get golds for our team. They were right. Menno got a shared gold and I was sure that the other guy was a few inches in front of him. I was not going to protest.

At the end of the day, when I had reached the peak of boredom, it was finally time for the women’s relay. We had put together a team with first Victoria for back stroke, I would do breaststroke, Oti for Butterfly and Marie would finishing with freestyle. Victoria and Oti are quite good compared to my Nigerian colleagues in the office, but the competition was higher than expected. Victoria started the relay and lost direction with her back stroke. She kept on going deeper too. Menno was ready to dive and rescue her but she just made it. I gave it my all and was able to get rid of the pent up frustration. I was shaking when I finished. I had managed to bridge the gap for a large part. Oti could maintain this with her butterfly and Marie was brilliant. She finished just in front of the other team. We had won GOLD. I thought this was the largest accomplishment because we worked as a team. This was Victoria’s only race of the day and it would have been a shame for her to have worn her swimming cap all day for nothing. I was thrilled for her.

Half a week later my trophy arrived in Warri. I had not stayed long enough in Lagos to pick it up myself. My colleagues were in awe. My home-made cakes added to the happiness. I decided to keep the trophy in the office. Yesterday my colleagues decided to lock it up when I went home. They were afraid it might get stolen. “Someone can smash the window and take the cup. After all is a GOLD cup.” commented my supervisor. He was dead serious. It is the most fake cup I have ever seen, but I did not dare to say anything. We decided as a team that the head of the department would keep it in his office, that way we would not get blame if ‘our’ cup got stolen. Where did the ‘our’ come from? I have a hard time staying serious in those circumstances. Life is great here.

Breaststroke

2006-02-05T06:42:00.000-08:00

nolda:

Just recently I have started going to swim training on Saturday morning and Tuesday evenings. I took me a month to get over my pride. I knew I would have to learn crawl (or free style) all over again. And so it was. My technique was terrible. At first it was like someone chopping off my legs and telling me to walk. I did need to start from zero. On a good day, Menno, the instructor, would allow us to do a few lanes breaststroke to recover. Relief! For a short period I could swim without drowning. By now my crawl has improved quite a bit, but I also noticed my breaststroke is not nearly as bad.

To my great surprise Menno asked me to join his team for the Nigerian Oil Industry Competition. I will represent SPDC in the women’s breaststroke competition. The last time I had any real breaststroke training for was in primary school!! He told me I stand a chance for a medal, but I'm not so sure. I need to swim once 33 meters. I did not really care about the medal, but was only interested in the luxurious 3-day holiday in Lagos, hotel, flights and dinners included.....But then Jon heard about it: “ Right, we will look on Internet and find out what the proper technique is. You will need to do push-ups with your feet on the chair, every morning and afternoon. You will need to eat loads of pasta, swim 4 times a week, run and also go to the gym.” He declared himself coach and for two days I felt competitive. Then I was diagnosed with dysentery and Jon’s schedule was down the drain. I slept for 2.5 days.

A little dysentery won't stop me going though. My race is February 15. I just pray that there is hardly any competition. Good thing that Nigerians generally do not like swimming.

Water water everywhere

2006-02-03T11:22:00.000-08:00

Jon:

It has taken some weeks but finally I have started work. I have been given a lot of flexibility, so much so that I have written my own job description. I will act as an advisor for the Sustainable Community Development department. They want me to investigate why water projects are proving to be so unsustainable and to develop a new strategy for water and sanitation provision.

Many issues must be confronted when approaching community development within the Niger Delta. The foremost is the perception that both the community and donors have with regards to development assistance. The legacy of the last 40 years of oil-funded, top down 'aid' has created a dependency by communities on handouts. This has either been in the form of cash payments (usually termed compensation) or infrastructure projects. Given the current crisis in the Delta region, it is clear these policies have failed. Cash payments inevitably end up in the hands of the community leaders, always men, who then go out and buy the latest Mercedes. The majority of infrastructure projects have focused on developing the status of a community, not necessarily develop the people's quality of life. The construction needs to be big and visible....town halls, roads, electricity, and water towers are top of the list. Promoting good sanitation, educating children, training farmers are not such sexy projects.

In recent years, there has been a greater effort for donor organisations to change their development policies to more community based programmes. Health, education and economic empowerment have been emphasised. However, in a country with such an entrenched culture of corruption and mismanagement, it is difficult to change attitudes overnight.

One of my first tasks is to try and promote more appropriate technology, such as simple handpumps and rainwater tanks. This is not perceived by the community to be as advanced or as high status as electric pumps, water towers and distribution pipes. Yet basic technology is the only service level that communities can sustain at the present time. As a community becomes more developed so can the infrastructure.

Providing access to clean water does not have a dramatic health impact unless it is supported by improved sanitation and hygiene promotion. The sanitation coverage in the Niger Delta is terrible and good hygiene practices are virtually non-existent. This is evident by the high incidence of diarrhoea, cholera and typhoid, as well as high mortality rates. One in five children in Nigeria die before they reach the age of five, which is one of the highest rates in the world. It is an absurd statistic given the wealth of the country. The national policy for sanitation is that each household must construct their own toilet without support from the government. This policy looks good on (loo-) paper as it is supposed to be sustainable. However, in practice, building a toilet has the lowest priority for families. Simply filling the stomachs of the children is a daily struggle.

The only way for the water and sanitation situation to significantly change is for government bodies, oil companies, NGOs (non-governmental organisations) and communities to collaborate. This will enable standardisation in technology and policy, sharing of information, less 'oil-company' focus, more equitable distribution of resources and hopefully a long term positive impact. Easier said than done though. Local governments are terribly corrupt. Little actually gets spent on rural water and sanitation. Many NGOs do not want to be seen to be colluding with oil companies due to possible bad press. Oil companies often believe they can tackle seemingly simple community development on their own. There are so many obstacles to change but we have to start somewhere.

So that is where I am at. I knew I was in for a challenge but this is definitely more than I bargained for. Will keep you posted.

The excitement of camp life

2006-01-21T07:12:00.000-08:00

nolda:

Yes, there have been pipeline explosions, kidnappings, killings etc. You have probably read all about it. If not, you can read the facts in Jon's article. Seems all quite serious, but in everyday life we notice very little of this, except the worried emails and phone calls have increased. It is interesting to see how the media can exaggerate without lying straight out. I read an article on the BBC that gave the impression everyone was evacuated out of Nigeria. Not quite. The only effect of all this is that I do not get to travel to swamp locations.

My colleagues are quite calm about it. Seems to be a reoccuring cycle. Violence is just part of life. I think our outlook will change in 3 years here. Most expats in the camp are not too shocked by it either. We are advised to not travel on our own at night, but I was not thinking of that anyway. There are those who do not like it here and use this sequence of events as an extra argument to convince their husbands to leave.

The reason we did not write earlier is that in contrast to the news you have read, our personal life has been a bit dull. No major adventures, just the challenge of not feeling trapped in the camp or getting depressed with the mundanity. I have my good moments and my bad moments. I usually get my dip on Sunday afternoon. Even though it reoccurs, it seems just as severe. Each time it hits me that this weekend was just a repetition of the weekend before and the one before; run, swim, go somewhere for coffee, have someone over for dinner, bake a cake, write emails, complain about the slow delivery of sea freight etc. I am still working on a plan to do something useful in my weekends and evenings. Never thought I would miss the DIY (Do It Yourself) that haunted us at our house in Groningen. At least it gave me a feeling of accomplishment. Do not think I am depressed. This is just me. After a few hours of feeling sorry for myself, I will usually cheer up by doing some sort of exercise. Jon must find me very tiring. His emotions seem very stable. I think a lot of women go through the same or worse here. There are those who are here for their husband's job and have lost their social life, their own job and part of their identity. The perception of this camp can easily change from a 'centre park' to a prison.

Once we have our car we can go on day trips in the weekends which will break the monotony. I am also trying to start some type of distance learning, just to give me a sense of purpose. Sorry that this blog is not a glory story. It is really not bad here, but I can not hide here from the big questions of life. So that is the excitement of camp life!

Kidnappings in the swamps

2006-01-21T04:47:00.000-08:00

Jon:

If you've seen the international news recently you will know that the Niger Delta is experiencing another violent episode. The problems to date, have been concentrated in the swamp region of the Bayelsa State which borders Delta where we are based. Three major incidents have been reported. Firstly militia sabotaged a major oil pipeline causing widespread pollution and an immense fire. They then attacked a boat of a security company who were guarding an offshore installation. Four hostages were taken - an American, a Brit, a Honduran and a Bulgarian. This was 8 days ago and as yet they have not been released. It is very rare that kidnappers harm any hostages, though the worry is that they would be caught in the crossfire should the military use force. The final incident occurred last weekend when two houseboats, used by Shell staff, were attacked and set alight. Two Nigerian catering staff died and numerous others were wounded. Shell have since evacuated most of their workers from the swamp region, though production of oil resumes at a reduced level.

This is not the first time such violent incidents have occurred in the oil rich region. The reality is that there is such immense inequality here that it is almost inevitable. Many people believe the reason for the cuurent outburst is the forthcoming presidential election in 2007. A power struggle exists between the numerous tribes of the south. One of these are the Ijaws, the predominant tribe of the Delta swamps and they are willing to fight for a slice of the oil-profit pie.

The Ijaws are, generally speaking, a peaceful and relaxed people. They are a fishing community, constructing their homes on stilts in the water or on the tiny land outcrops dotted amongst the maze of rivers in the delta swamp. Since the discovery of oil though, the finally balanced traditional system of the Ijaws has been shaken. They see the vast oil installations and are aware of the billions of dollars being made by the priveledged few. Understandably, the Ijaw people want to have adequate compensation and the youth especially are becoming restless. They have seen very little change in the quality of life for their communites. The reasons for this are many: corrupt government, lack of investment by oil companies, difficult environment for development, poor education of people, high mortality rates, etc.

As a result, many young men have joined militia groups who fight to gain recognition and to highlight their cause. The oil companies, Shell being the largest, are an easy target for these groups and, hence, the regular attacks on pipelines and facilities. The militia are financed by money made from 'bunkering' or stealing oil from pipelines. It is estimated that over 10% of all oil produced in Nigeria is stolen and sold to giant cartels. Pilots of the helicopters have told me that they often see illegal barges, hidden among the creeks and rivers in the swamps, waiting for nightfall when they take the oil to a ship waiting offshore. It is common knowledge that this occurs and it is clear there are those in high positions in government who also profit from this illegal activity.

By the way, I heard an interesting fact recently. Did you know that out of every $50 made on a barrel of Shell produced oil, $44 goes to the Nigerian government, $4 to operational costs, $1 to other companies and just $1 for Shell itself. There again, at a full production of 1 million barrels a day, Shell still make a lot of money but the Nigerian government make a whole lot more.

I also read the other day the 2004 Financial Report of Edo State, a minor oil state, north of here. I was astounded at how they allocated their budget and how they openly confessed it in the press. Out of a budget of around $150 million, they spent only 0.5% on health and absolutely nothing on rural water and sanitation. Most of the money, some $85 million, went on salaries, overhead costs, pensions, gratuities, etc for the state officials. Looking at this it is no wonder the rural folk remain in absolute poverty while the state governors drive past in half a million dollar Hummer. What a country!

Over the last 30 years much of the oil profits have been looted and stashed in foreign bank accounts. A recent leaked memo from the World Bank identifies some of the presidents and generals (many still alive today) who are to blame along with the amount of money still in foreign banks (check out the website to the right for the full report). Former president Babangida tops the list with an estimated 6.2 billion pounds, 7.41 billion Swiss Franc, 2 billion US dollars and 9 billion DeutscheMarks stashed away. Whatever could one man do with so much money??

A final word...just to say that Nolda and I are OK and that everything is very safe here in Warri. It is very unlikely that the we will see any unrest in this area and Shell will not take any risks if there is the possibility of insecurity....so please don't worry!!

Odidi

2006-01-08T04:27:00.000-08:00

Nolda:

Last week Tuesday 3 January till Thursday I have been in the field. I went with a colleague, Zakar to visit Odidi Central Processing facilities and all the flowstations that are connected to Odidi. The helipads of these locations were not maintained. For this reason the only way to get there is by boat. This means booking a seat weeks in advance and still not being sure you will get on. The boat trip is always accompanied by a security boat, even when there are only Nigerians going to location.

Tuesday, Zakar and I arrived at the port. People everywhere without a clear sense of direction. Zakar knew where to go. We reported to some officials who wrote down our name in a book, wanted to check my swimming passport and told us to go to the HSE (Health, Safety & Environment) meeting. The meeting had already started. We wrote our name in a book and listened to the end of the talk. "Do not put one foot on the boat and the other on the shore. If you miss the boat you will not miss the water. You will drown and that will look bad on our safety record" Different priorities here. Life is not valued as much.

I had to show my swimming pass again. No one believed I had passed within a few weeks of joining SPDC. Most people find this one of the highest accomplishments. After showing my pass 4 more times and writing my name in 3 more books we managed to arrive at an island close to Odidi plant. I saw the plant for the first time. It is huge! Not quite what we expected.

On the island ( the VIP quarters) we tried to find the operations supervisor. Even though Zakar thought he had copied in all important people at Odidi, he had missed this guy. The man had no clue we were coming. Fortunately he had two rooms for us on one of the houseboats. These are 4 giant barges full of people. A load of guys were walking around in towels. They quickly disappeared as soon as they saw me. After that I only saw fully closed me. I was assigned the room of a team leader. His bedding and a load of his belongings were still there. It even smelled like him. He was on leave, but it felt as though he would walk in any moment. The shower did not work, no toilet paper, no soap, no clean bedding, no working telephone, no TV, cockroaches running around, brown water. I felt a bit sorry for myself. This was my birthday. After an afternoon visit to one of the plants and after a loooonnnnng meeting with operation guru's I finally found someone to give me clean sheets. Fortunately I had anticipated there would be a lack of toilet paper and soap, so I had brought my own. Just before I left I eventualy got my ration of soap and toilet paper. I left it for the owner of the room.

I will not write too much about the food, but food is important or the moral of the operators and also for me. The conversations with the gays at the boat were almost always about food. I first tried continental food, but lost my appetite by the looks of it. In the end I violated the rules and decided to eat at the local canteen. At least this cook liked what he cooked and it tasted a lot better. The operators were shocked to see me eat there and kept on checking for the next days if I still did not feel sick. I did not get sick and some where disappointed.

For two days Zakar and I went to various sites to assess the process problems. Very hot to walk around all day at 35 deg C with an overall, boots, a life vest and a helmet. It was sad to see the state of the plants. Enough work for years. We found out that the guy who is responsible for the compressor does not even know if the gas is dehydrated before or after his compressor. Quite essential information. It seemed like a load of people know some important information, but it never gets combined. The heads of operations have meetings twice daily, each lasting 2 hours each, but all they discuss are the budgets for their courses in Holland and how many times a year they can get new overalls.

During my stay I got to see a little bit of the local people. They live on the water in houses build on stilts. The children learn to paddle in a canoe the moment they can walk. These people live on fish and might paddle for a whole day to get to Warri to buy cassava or yam's, but most do not have enough fish to even think of trading. They would come to the houseboats to get their drinking water, the brown water I did not even like to bathe with. What a contrast to see these people and the huge gas and oil facilities. I felt very inadequate that there was so little I could do for these people.

After 2 nights, many hours of waiting and blazing sun, I got back home. For 3 days after I felt tired. It was an intense experience. I'll be doing this a week a month. I hope it gets easier.

The sisters of charity

2005-12-31T01:51:00.000-08:00

Jon:
Last Friday I had my first opportunity to visit a rural community in Nigeria. I was invited by two of the daughters of the Inglis family who were interested to see a bit more of Africa whilst here on their Christmas vacation. Some of the expat community support the work of the Sisters of Charity, a Catholic mission station run by two overseas volunteers: Mairead from Ireland and Dorothy from Australia, Both women have been working in Nigeria for many years, selflessly helping and educating the surrounding community. They are involved in a number of activities, including helping at the hospital, providing primary health care, feeding pragramme for the malnourished, running a simple farm and education. For more details see their website in the "links" column on the right.

The name of the area where we visited is Okpara Inland, located around 20 miles from Warri. The majority of houses in the vicinity were built using bricks and concrete. This I found a little surprising for such a rural, under-developed village. However, most of the dwellings had seen better days. The tin roofs were corroding away, windows missing and walls collapsing. The only sign of sustained development was the tarmaced road that disected the village. The reason for this is that it allows the maintenance trucks and visiting managers to travel from Warri to a Shell flowstation some 10 km away.

I asked our driver how the community had been able to afford to build the brick houses and why were they now in such a bad state. He explained that the area had once been prosperous due to a boom in rubber trading. Up until 25 years ago, Nigeria was a major exporter of cash crops, including cocoa, peanuts, rubber, and palm oil. However, due to mismanagement, poor government policies and a crash in world market prices, the agricultural industry has collapsed. This is evident in Okpara where it seems there is little industry or opportunities for employment.

Dorothy, a trained midwife, allowed us to join her on her routine health visit around the villages. She helps take care of those who are seriously ill in the community. Most of these people should be admitted but the local hospital does not have enough staff or supplies to support all these cases. What we witnessed was quite shocking. Within a short distance we saw numerous children who were seriously malnourished. One baby we saw had been on the verge of dying a week before christmas. He did not have the energy to lift his head or even cry. Dorothy had suspected TB and had administered a course of medication. When we saw him, he still looked extremely ill but thankfully his condition had improved and Dorothy was pleased that he was now at least able to scream. Florence is a girl who Dorothy has been visiting for some time. She suffers from epilepsy and some time ago had fallen into a fire whilst having a fit causing severe burns to the leg. The wounds became infected and still haven't healed. The new skin has contracted her leg so much that she can no longer walk. She remains the full day and night curled up on her worn mattress. We discovered on our visit that she had attempted to overdose using the painkillers Dorothy had given. Such a desperate case, you wonder why this can be allowed to happen. And we saw many more tragic circumstances. A elderly woman with a broken hip and no-one to help her out of bed. A mother with TB and annemia whose husband had taken her away for no reason during her treatment. An old man who has a major swelling of the throat, possibly cancer or TB.

But the story of the last family we met will always remain with me. A family of five children whose father had deserted them some months earlier when he found the mother was expecting another child. The night before we arrived, the mother had gone into labour suddenly but was not able to reach the hospital in the next village. Thankfully, the driver from the mission, saw her by the roadside and took her to the maternity unit. At 6 o'clock in the morning, Dorothy helped deliver a healthy boy. We went with her to check on the five children who were left at home. We found the four youngest in their one roomed home. No furniture apart from a couple of wooden benches where one of the boys lay sound asleep. Another of the brothers ran to fetch the eldest who soon came and answered Dorothy's questions:
"So, do you know where your mum is?" "No",
"Who is looking after you?" "Nobody",
"Have any of you eaten anything today?" "No",
"Why not?' "No fuel",
"But do you have any food?" "No"
"What about the rice we brought you for Christmas?" "We had a good Christmas!".

A neighbour popped her head around the door to see what was going on. Dorothy asked her why nobody had told the kids where their mother was and why nobody was looking after them. She replied that the kids could look after themselves. The eldest child was no more than 8 years old. We took him with us to visit his mother at the hospital and to meet his baby brother. When we entered the mother was overjoyed, but tried to surpress her emotions in front of us white people. I could see her immense gratitude in her tear laden eyes. The boy simply covered his face with his hands and slowly moved towards his mum and little bro..... What a life.

In all my travels through Asia and Africa, I don't believe I have ever witnessed such desperate conditions. Even the refugees in Tanzania, had enough food, water and medical provision. What I noticed in particular was the lack of community goodwill. In most areas of Africa, neighbours will always help each in such small villages. Even though people have very little, they will offer support for the destitute. Yet in Okpara, those who could not help themselves were left alone. I have enquired whether this was a unique case or whether it occurs throughout Nigeria. Most respond by saying that it is exclusive to the Delta region. I am yet to find the true reasons. Is it tribal? The Delta state has a large number of rival tribal factions who are interspersed between communities. Is it due to the oil? Oil money has caused some communities to become dependent on payments. Is it due to the hierarcheal system? Chiefs still play an important role here and those in power must be honoured and well treated. I don't know the answer but it is clear that the situation in the Delta is very complex and working her will certainly be a challenge.

For more photos of our trip see Photo Album link opposite.

Trouble on the Streets

2005-12-29T12:51:00.000-08:00

Jon:

Warri is notorious for being a violent and unpredictable place. We were under no illusions when we travelled out here. I read an interesting book on Nigeria, written a few years ago, which claimed that Warri was the most dangerous city in Africa. Even before oil was discovered in the Delta region, the place was scarred by years of fighting. Three tribes, the Ijaws, Itsekiri and Urhobo, all claim to have ancestral ownership to the land. The discovery of oil has raised the stakes and made the infighting more intense.

So it is not surprising to witness a heavy police presence when driving through the town. There are the 'normal' police dressed in rags for a uniform carrying plastic truncheons. Their sole purpose for being on the streets it seems is to guide traffic. But then you have the 'mobile' police or MOPOL. They cannot be mistaken with their black uniform, dark sunglasses and AK47s slung over the shoulder. My first encounter with the MOPOL was outside the gates of the compound. A young man was being forced to hand over his camera to an officer for no apparent reason. The camera was obviously the man's prize position and he was reluctant to cease his grip of the strap. It wasn't until the MOPLOL delivered a few swift strikes across the knuckles with his truncheon that the man finally let go. And that was it......survival of the fittest. A man with power has the right to take from those who are less fortunate.

My second encounter with the ominous MOPOL was in rush hour traffic (or 'go slow' as they say here). Instead of waiting in line for a few minutes like the rest of us, the police truck decided to drive the wrong way down a duel carriageway, against a stream of oncoming traffic. Naturally, they soon came to a halt and caused a tailback of vehicles which blocked a junction crossing our road. You can imagine the scene....at the hottest part of the day as people are trying to get home. I thought a riot was going to break out. But Aloy, our driver, was as cool as a cucumber. I guess this is part of everyday life in Warri.

Today as we drove past the main market in the town centre, there was another incident. From my view point, it looked as though there had been a collision of motorbikes. This is not surprising given the speed at which some lunatics drive. A fight broke out and naturally all traffic came to a halt to watch the proceedings. We were a couple of cars back so all I could see were fists flying and people shouting. Then, from nowhere, came a MOPOL officer to calm the situation. He simply pulled out a leather wip and began lashing out at the two who were brawling. In no time, the men had given up the fight and were being dragged off to the police cells. I was shocked at the brutality. I have seen incidences of this type of crowd control in Africa before but not with such aggression. Again, Aloy looked on nonchalently. I hope I never become so numb to this level of violence.

Market

2005-12-29T12:22:00.000-08:00

Nolda:

Finally I have seen the market and have tasted something of Nigerian Life. I asked my Nigerian friend Bola if she could show me a bit of town on Tuesday. It as a national holiday and after having been in the camp from Friday afternoon onwards I was longing to go out. I had been warned by expats to not go into the market from the end of November till after Christmas. Some even told me to wait till after new year, but I chose to forget that. I had a suspicion that this advise was exaggerated, but did not feel in the position to doubt advise as the newcomer. Technically it was after Christmas on Tuesday.

Bola picked me up and we drove into town. She drove straight into the market, through roads that were as broad as the car. Stores ( more like shacks often) on each side and people crossing all the time. She thought nothing off it and just went on talking. The market itself was full of little shops jam packed with goods. In the entrance the shopkeepers would be socializing. Somewhere in the back some family member was usually sleeping. The alleys were so narrow you needed to squeeze past the chatting shopkeepers and duck through pans and pots hanging across the street. Although it seemed at bit claustrophobic, the atmosphere was very friendly. I felt comfortable. People were a lot less pushy than Owino Market in Kampala (Uganda). I was prepared for people reaching into my pockets like in the market of Lusaka, but none of that happened here in Warri.

Although Bola regards herself as bad in bargaining, I was impressed with the way she did it. It is not just the things you say, but also the whole posture. Bola would look seriously heart broken that the item was too expensive according to her taste. The woman of the shop would act like we were going to deprive her of a month salary. Bola would ask straight at the beginning for " your last price" . This never seems to be the last price, but no one seems to mind. Most items like Flasks and coolers come in three versions. Most expensive is the " imported item" from Blokker or Tesco's, next in line is the Indian (sometimes Chinese) copy. Also best quality and comes with a box. All the original stickers are still on it. If this is still too expensive they will show you the Nigerian version. They all admit this will not last long, but you might be in luck and have one that survives a bit longer. From a distance all three look the same, but the difference is in the quality and detailing. Fascinating, especially from the view point of an industrial designer. In the end we bought almost nothing, but I loved it. I was extremely sweaty, but happy. Freedom! Normal people. Different colors. Different smells. Three hours later we arrived back at our house. Only then I found out I did not even have my mobile with me. I think Jon was a bit worried. Good thing I had bought him some roasted beef on a stick to make him happy.

After three hours of market in Warri, the compound no longer seemed boring, but nice and peaceful. Next time I will try to smuggle our digital camera into the market without getting it stolen. Words are not enough to give an idea of the abundance of colors, people and smells.

The curious incident of the Governor who dressed as a woman

2005-12-23T18:52:00.000-08:00

Jon:
Any of you who read my newsletter or have been following the news recently, will have heard about the events surrounding the Governor of Bayelsa State in Nigeria, one Chief Diepreye Alamieyeseigha (or Alam for short). The story in brief: whilst on his way back from Germany to Nigeria, Alam was arrested in London on the charge of money laundering. He jumped bail and fled back to Nigeria, allegedly dressed as a woman. Although there is no doubt he has stolen millions from the Nigerian people, there are some here who think he has been framed.

Here's a excerpt from a bizarre article I read recently in the Nigerian Guardian:

"On the face of it, the escape, involving as it did, the Governor of a State, is a gross misconduct, but it is a gross misconduct that is extenuated, though perhaps not entirely justified, by the circumstances that pushed him into it. Here was a man who, while in Germany after surgery there, recieved a telephone call from the Presidency, ostensibly to commiserate with him, and who unsuspectedly gave out information about his itinerary after leaving Germany. The information was promptly passed on to the London Metropolitan Police who were at hand at London Heathrow Airport to arrest him on his arrival there.

It was not the fact of his arrest but the manner of it smacked abominably of persecution. Without waiting for him to disembark from the aircraft, the London police boarded it, arrested, handcuffed and forcibly led him way, bleeding from the incision of his recent surgery. Next, after an unconventional search of his London home an interrogation at the police station, he was dumped into a maximum security prison and left there for ten good days.

Now for the offence for which he was arrested, money laundering, is not a violent crime, like murder. The police had no reason to suspct that he might offer violence in resistance to his arrest or try to run away from their custody. The handcuffing could not have been other than an act of political persecution at the behest of the Federal Government of Nigeria. The motive seemed simply to have been to subject him to disgrace, to inflict degradation on him , in order to satisfy the vengefulness of someone on whose instigation he was arrested.

Under any circumstances, even on charges oof money laundering the handcuffing of the Governor of a State in Nigeria, incarnating part of the sovereignty of the country, is intolerably, to say the least. It is inconceivable that the Governor of one of the states or provinces in the USA, Canada or Australia accused of the same offenceof money laundering would have been so hand-cuffed inside an aircraft in full view of all other pasesngers. It is inconceivable too that such an outrage would have been inflicted on part of the sovereignty of Nigeria by the London police unless the President approved it.

With his fate thus totally sealed, Governor Alamieyeseigha needed to do something to save himself from cruel injustice and tyrannous persecution. He was a fugitive more from cruel injustice and tyrannous persecution than from justice. He escaped, not so much to avoid trial for money laundering, as to free himself from the clutches of a system that had condemned him even before trial.

While all this cruel injustice and tyrannous persecution were being perpetrated against him in Londonon the instigation of the Federal Government, plans were afoot in Nigeria by the same forces that instigated his tribulations abroad to remove him from office on Tues November 22, 2005. This was the immediate cause of his precipitate escape from London back to Nigeria the day before his planned removal. It was a desperate move to try and forestall an awesome doom."

So there you have it, Governor Alam is sovereign and he was forced to dress as a woman to save himself from the 'cruel injustice and tyrannous persecution' of the London police..........I'm going to love this place!!

Friday before Xmas

2005-12-23T15:45:00.000-08:00

Nolda:
Over these last days the Christmas frenzy was at it worst. On Wednesday we got our salary and everyone tried to get their whole salary out at once. I went to the bank too, because like the Nigerians I was broke. This was one of the moments that I wish I had a video cam. Nigerians are worse than the Dutch. They have no concept of queues. How can this have been a British colony? We some how managed to talk to one of the bank staff. It was surprising to see that they were not at all bothered with people everywhere asking for money. The guy told me I had not been paid. Strange, everyone else had recieved their salary. A few hours later I got hold of my pay slip. I have been paid various bonuses this month, but no one can tell me where my salary went. Wherever it is, it is not in our account. We did get paid a loan for the car, but they took a 10th off straight away as repayment! I must be missing the logic of that construction. With the help of my colleague I fought my way back into the bank. As the Ohibo (white person) I did get faster service. I somehow managed to get the last 100 000 Naira's out before the bank ran out of money. Up until today (Friday) the bank has had no money. Some people waited for hours in the bank for money to miraculously appear. The bank seems to be very disorganized, but I have been assured that money never goes missing. I think I will go a lot more often, just for the experience. More people love going to the bank. It provides an excuse to take a break from work for 3 hours.

Jon's Newsletter

2005-12-16T11:16:00.000-08:00

Jon:

Nolda and I have finally made it back to Africa, the first time since our first meeting in Lusaka four and a half years ago. As some of you know, we had quite an ordeal trying to get out here. Three days before we were set to leave Holland, at the start of October, Nolda received the results of a blood test, which showed she had an over-active thyroid. We were refused medical clearance for the travel and were told that we would have to stay until the condition was treated. So we were stuck with no jobs, our house had been rented and all our belongings were in storage or on their way to Nigeria. All we had was 2 suitcases of summer clothes….perfect for a Nigerian winter but not in Europe.

To cut a long story short, Nolda was able to go back to her old job at Shell and we were able to stay in a temporary apartment for a couple of months. Nolda had radioactive treatment to destroy part of her thyroid. One of the side effects of the treatment was that for 2 weeks she was ‘highly’ radioactive and we all had to keep our distance. Poor girl….she had to eat a her own dining table and sleep in a separate bedroom. We still don’t know whether the treatment was successful. She will have a test in a couple of months. Hopefully they have given her the correct dosage. If too low, she will have to go through the whole rigmarole again. If the dosage was too high, she will have an under active thyroid and will need to take thyroxin tablets the rest of her life! We’re praying they got it right.

Anyway, the Shell doctors gave us medical clearance to travel once the treatment was complete. It wasn’t until we were on the plane that it sank in that we were leaving and would be gone for such a long time. The intention is that we will stay here for 3 to 4 years. It seems an age but time is needed to get to know a different culture and have any chance of having an impact.

Nolda has the main work contract, which means I am now the Shell expat spouse. And for all you who think this must be a cushy number, I can tell you that it takes a lot of effort trying to keep a G&T cool when you need to go off for a swim.

I would go totally crazy though if all I had to look forward to was the next round of golf or coffee morning with the mum’s. Thankfully I have been offered a very challenging job with the community development department. They want me to act as a Water Service Advisor for all the water and sanitation projects in the region. I spoke with my supervisor today and it is clear there are major problems with the sustainability of the projects. However it seems Shell is willing to change and accept the recommendations of others. They see the need to partner with other organisations, such as WaterAid, and review the way they approach development. My role is very open and as a contractor I will not be bogged down as much with office politics.

From my current brief, they want me to review their current watsan policies and procedures, to visit projects in the field and to make recommendations for the future. And all this in 3 months!! I already have my own thoughts and ideas but I know that to start I must listen to the community needs and understand how the Shell system works. This will take longer than 3 months. And as all the expats here keep warning us….don’t have too high expectations, this is Nigeria and everything takes time.

As for Nolda, she has already started work. She is working for the technical department as a process engineer. She will be involved in improving the oil and gas flow station processes……I think, not quite sure exactly what she will be doing and I don’t think she does either. But the team she is working with is great. She is the first female to join the department and one of the few expats to work there. So, as you can imagine, the guys treat her well. Today she is in the field for the first time. I hope she makes it back safely. The security situation here is stable at the moment but as anywhere in Africa there are always risks.

So what will our life entail for the next few years outside work? Well, we have already moved into our house. A large 3 bed-roomed bungalow (loads of space for all you who I’ve no doubt will pay a visit!) located on the Shell residential compound. At first I really did not look forward to living on a compound but now here it is not so bad. When I lived in Africa before, the houses were always fenced and guarded. This is essentially the same, just on a bigger scale. It is reassuring that when we go home we know we will be safe. However it is really tough to see the contrast between inside the camp and outside. I will never feel comfortable with that.

The camp is full of all the usual luxuries: swimming pool, tennis courts, golf course, gym. I am surely going to be fit by the time I leave Nigeria. We have a small supermarket, which sells Western goods at extortionate prices. We were dumbfounded when we calculated the price of a box of Persil washing powder to be €25 (sorry, £17…I’ve lived in Holland too long??). So we’re trying to shop at the market for all the basics and limit ourselves to a few treats to look forward to. Still amazing how much you take for granted living in Europe.

We have already made some good friends both from the expat community and colleagues from work. One advantage of living on a compound is the community spirit and the fact you can call in on people without notice. I could never get used to business in Holland of booking an appointment with a friend weeks in advance. There are loads of social activities organised from triathlons to fish & chip night. In fact the Bush Hut (the camp bar) is a 1 minute walk (or stumble) through the rainforest from our house. Yes, we live next to a patch of indigenous rainforest, which means we get the occasional monkey across the roof to raid our berries from the front garden. That one thing I love here is the abundant wildlife, a total contrast to citylife. We have lizards, fruit bats, snakes, rats the size of cats, giant millipedes….in fact I saw a small crocodile crossing the road the other day. Pretty cool.

Another part of life here is that it is expected to hire staff to make life a little easier. This is typical throughout Africa and I don’t have a big problem with it as it helps the local community. However there are some expats who still think they live in the colonial times and treat their staff harshly. I find it hard to respect these people. We have been blessed with a great girl to help with the house. Her name is Esther. A couple that left some months ago recommended her. She has helped us immensely as she knows how the system works. We will also hire a gardener for a few hours a week and will get a driver when we finally get a car. Almost all Shell expats in Nigeria qualify for a company car however we are at such low job groups we have to buy our own. We have been strongly advised to buy a new car, as there is such a high risk when buying second hand. Apparently, Nigeria is notorious for importing cars written-off in Europe, then touched up and sold as perfect condition. So we reluctantly agreed to buy a new car, a Toyota Corolla that we can easily resell.

It is advisable to have a driver here; firstly, because the roads are so crazy and secondly because a driver will know how to deal with the police when they inevitably stop you. I will still get a Nigerian driver’s license so we can get about at weekends. I was worried that the security situation would be so bad that we would be confined to the compound. But there have been no major incidents recently however during the run-up to Christmas everyone gets a little desperate for extra cash so it’s not recommended to travel too much. It seems this occurs every year at this time but in the new year life should get back to normal.

Warri is a large town of an estimated 250,000 people but this is small for Nigeria with a population of around 140 million and growing…fast. The exact population is not known, as there has not been a census since 1991. The reason is political. The majority Islamic north do not want a census that includes questions of religion or ethnicity. They are afraid that this will change the current understanding that the north has the majority population and thus more powerful. The South wants a census with the questions as they feel they are not equally represented in government at present. This is just one of numerous issues facing Nigeria. It is in a real mess at the moment.

The headlines news of late has been the impeachment of the governor of Bayelsa state who jumped bail in the UK and escaped back to Nigeria, reportedly dressed as a woman. The great scandal here is not that he has been charged with stealing millions of dollars but the indignity of a state governor dressing as a woman….unspeakable!!

Nigeria is definitely a colourful place and I’m enjoying learning more about the country’s history, politics and culture. The next couple of years will be particularly interesting as the next presidential elections are due in 2007. The current president, Obosanjo, is attempting to amend the constitution to enable him to stand for a third term as president. Even though he has done a relatively good job when compared to past presidents, this would be bad for democracy. Being president means power and it is clear Obosanjo doesn’t want to hand it to a rival tribe. In general, prosperity comes to the area where the president comes from. So you can see why there is such a power struggle at election time. It is a popular view here that the next president should come from South-South region (where Warri is located) as they have never had a president. So they are not necessarily elected on merit but origin or tribe. The run-up to the elections will surely be an interesting time but I hope that the process will be peaceful. History does not offer much hope though.

Even before the discovery of oil, Nigeria was plagued with tribal conflicts. This has only been exaggerated over recent years as oil revenues have been squandered and people fight for the rights they feel they are entitled to. The Delta region, where the oil is found, has been neglected by successive governments, fearful of giving the region to much power. As a consequence the communities use whatever means they can to get their share of the vast oil profits. The oil companies have not helped matters. Profits have definitely been gained at the expense of the communities and the environment. Thankfully, international pressure is starting to cause the companies to clean up their act. Too slow and too late some will say but at least it’s a start. Shell is the biggest operating company in Nigeria and thus has to accept the most criticism. Up until a few years ago, Shell’s ‘community development’ involved giving cash payments to community chiefs and troublesome youths to avoid conflict. Inevitably the money was wasted and communities demanded more money. Shell has started to change their community development procedures inline with more internationally accepted sustainable principles. However the culture of corruption is so entrenched that kickbacks for projects still occur and many schemes fail before they begin. But, from what I can see, things are moving in the right direction. I will let you know whether I fell the same in a year’s time.

The southern states of Nigeria are predominately Christian. There are many different denominations but all seem to be very lively. The main problem is that tribal traditions and beliefs are intertwined with the Christian message, which leads to many unorthodox practices. Nolda and I have been attending the church that meets within the compound. It is an Anglican church with a true African flavour. In fact, the only resemblance to an Anglican service are the few hymns that are sung accompanied by the electronic pipe organ. We are pretty much the only westerners in the service and stand out a mile. But the congregation are very friendly and welcoming. We want to visit some other churches in Warri but will wait to the calm of the new year.

Well, that’s all from Nigeria for now. Until the next episode…….

First News From Nolda

2005-12-07T11:18:00.000-08:00

Hi Friends,

Almost one week has passed. Mad house, but exciting. Tuesday we arrived in Lagos were dropped we were off in the Sheraton. People helping all the time in order to get a tip. Not used to giving tips for everything, but seems to be the thing to do. This place looks luxurious but at a closer look it is decaying. A number of girls in the hotel are quite obviously whores. Apparently single blokes need to deal with these girls presenting themselves at their door. I can imagine that there is a market. There are many single expat men. They look hardened and often lonely. Some of them might have a family at home, but when you hardly see them, they become part of an other life.

It was late when we arrived, had dinner and got into bed it was 23:00.
The next morning we had to get up at 5:00 to get the bus to the airport. We were told the bus would leave at 6:10, but we set off at 6:45 after a lot of shouting and chaos.

The local airport in Lagos seemed even more chaos. No signs or queues or well defined check in desks. It seems chaos, but everyone (except us) knows how it works and where to go. We some how managed to get into the plane and arrived in Warri on Wednesday in the morning. I expected we would be allowed to spend the rest of the day in the swimming pool but we were rushed off to start the on boarding process. First they showed us the house, a gigantic house for a family with 3 children inclusive living quarters for a nanny. While we were in the house 4 people kept on swirling around us. I really felt like crashing but there was no time. Loads of information. No time to get a shower. We had to go to the office and to the security. There we wait and wait. Now is Friday and we are still working at getting a bank account, an advance on salary and a computer account. Hard to stay patient all the time, but I knew this would happen. This is Africa.

A lot of stuff is more organized than in NL. There was a computer for me, a desk, stationary etc. Every afternoon you get cold drinks. Every morning coffee and tea. What luxury! Even better is that we have a really good nanny. Here they call a nanny, any woman who works in the house. Her name is Esther. She is intelligent and has a load of humour. She does the ironing!!! She teaches us how things work and what is the custom. It is amazing how dependent we are on locals to tell us how to survive. Makes me feel humble.

My line manager has assigned me a buddy. He is truly one of the best guys around. He loves to just help out. He tries to be as Western as possible. Image is just as important here as in NL. My boss is very small and thin with a rather large head and a large mouth. He mostly wears an old fleece in temperatures that make me sweat. He is very kind. Saturday dropped in to visit us and check that we are OK. he saw us leave with a colleague of the camp. We went to the supermarket. He and his son followed us for 1.5 hours till we went for Coffee at the colleagues house. There he rang the bell. I was shocked to see my supervisor at the door on a Saturday at the house of a colleague. That would not easily happen in NL. I think he wanted to see our house and was concerned if we were settling in. In the end he gave us a bag with oranges as a present. Work-life balance is a different thing here.

We see things here that are to bizar to write. We saw the one motorcyclist push the other motorcycle with his foot on a busy road. We had monkeys on our roof. There are people here to open a beam over the road. This is a matter of putting their foot on the counter weight of the beam. They have a supervisor to check if they know what they are doing. I wonder what there title is for this job. There are people here called Godfearing as a first name. Happiness is also common. Easymoney is also used to name a baby. I now find Nolda quite a good name.

Jonathan is enjoying setting the house up. He has bought plants for the garden and is now looking for a car to buy. He hopes to get in touch with his supervisors so he can soon start his job too. He comes with me into the office every once in a while. My colleagues get along with him very well. He is the joke of the day because he is taller than most doors and hits his head against the lamps in the corridor. The guards are getting used to me being the expat and him being the spouse. He used to be harassed for not having the right pass when we go through the gate. A lot of the expats are very old fashioned they take me less serious than the Nigerians. Then again I am the first technical woman to arrive with husband.