Posted by John Donovan: 6 Mar 24
In a move that’s as surprising as finding out water is wet, Shell is packing its bags and bidding adieu to Nigeria’s onshore oil and gas scene. But not without a parting gift: a hefty cleanup bill and a landscape that looks more like a villain’s backyard in a post-apocalyptic movie. The grand exit strategy involves handing over the keys to a consortium of five mostly local companies for a modest $2.4 billion, because, you know, why deal with the mess when you can just sell it off?
As Shell waltzes out the door, the Centre for Research on Multinational Corporations (SOMO) is wagging a finger, saying, “Not so fast, buddy.” They’ve dropped a report that basically reads like a ‘Dear John’ letter, calling out the environmental wooing and subsequent ghosting Shell’s done over the years in the Niger Delta. SOMO’s executive director, Audrey Gaughran, is essentially the exasperated roommate saying, “The big issue is that Shell is leaving onshore Niger delta and leaving behind potentially a massive bill for (clean up).”
When Shell announced this blockbuster deal in January, they mentioned the Renaissance consortium would inherit the honour of dealing with oil spills. Shell, playing the role of the innocent bystander, claims these spills are mostly thanks to oil theft and pipeline tampering. Classic “It’s not you, it’s me” breakup material.
Layi Fatona, playing the supportive new partner, didn’t spill much tea but hinted that they’re ready to meet Nigeria’s legal clean-up standards. Meanwhile, Gbenga Komolafe, the head honcho at the Nigerian Upstream Petroleum Regulatory Commission, is like that friend who says you need to clean your apartment before moving out but doesn’t really check if you did.
And let’s not forget about the real MVPs, the communities in the delta. They’ve watched their lands turn into something you’d expect to see in a dystopian novel, all thanks to historical oil spills. “We depend on farming and fishing, but now our lands and rivers have been destroyed. If they leave without healing the soil, how do we survive?,” laments 61-year-old farmer Ayibakuro Warder, essentially asking for a miracle after Shell’s environmental heartbreak.
So, as Shell makes its grand exit, waving goodbye to the onshore operations with a possibly untouched cleanup bill fluttering in the wind, one can’t help but think, “What the actual f**k, Shell?” The Niger Delta awaits its next chapter, hopefully with a little less oil and a lot more accountability. Shell, meanwhile, exits stage left, leaving a legacy that’s hard to erase, no matter how much they might wish to sell it off.