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In Nigeria, many women suffer ailments resulting from the use of firewood and data from the World Health Organization estimates that over 98,000 of these women die annually as a result.  Some of these women-especially those who are into palm kernel processing-are aware of the implications. But with no support to adopt more energy-efficient methods, they risk their health to earn a living. Arinze Chijioke reports. 

Inside an open space roofed with corrugated zinc sheets in the Garki area of Enugu State, Southeast Nigeria, smoke constantly goes up and disappears into the horizon. Metal drum containers are holding water and Palm kernel Sludge, the residue obtained from oil palm mills after the extraction of oil from palm nuts.

Nwani Catherine stands with her hands firmly holding a long, wooden stick which she uses to stir the metal drum containers, one at a time. At intervals, she uses her drenched shirt to wipe the beads of sweat on her face.

Catherine pours water into one of her drums

The heat from the three-stoned open cooking fire is unbearable and leaves her wheezing badly from firewood smoke, tears welling up in her eyes. But she has to stir for hours to get oil from the Sludge which companies come to buy and further process into detergent, soap, perfume, cream and other products.

This has been her routine since 2017, two years after her husband died and left her with the burden of catering for their four children.

Before she was introduced to the business by a friend, Catherine sold foodstuffs inside Ogbete, one of Enugu’s main markets. But it was not profitable. Sometimes, she made a profit of N200 after each day’s sale.

“I felt I needed another business to be able to take care of my children, “she said.  It is what money I earn from here that I pay their fees and our rent”.

Initially, when she started the business, she was buying the Palm Kernel sludge directly from artisanal and small-scale oil palm mills and processing it further to get other products. But with time, she could not afford to buy directly. Now, she works for a group of women who own the business.

Every day, at 6:30 am, Catherine leaves her house to ensure that she gets to the location before 7 am. Sometimes, she treks. Most of the time, she boards a bus. At the location, she separates the Sludge which often comes in different bags into 12 drums after which she sets fire to them and begins to stir.

“The Sludge is usually hard when poured into the drums, “she said. “I have to go round and stir each drum for hours to get the liquid content and also ensure that it does not burn”.

At intervals, she ambles to the stream close to the location where she gets water used in the processing.  After processing, the oil stays at the top of the drum while palm kernel cake- another by-product stays at the bottom.

The next morning, she begins her day by scraping the drums for the Cake which can be used as feed for swine and also serves as manure routinely used by smallholder farmers. It is also used to replace up to 66 per cent of chemical fertilizers in palm plantations.

She and other women who are in the processing business arrange the cakes into different bags and help load them into vehicles, earning N50 per bag. For each drum processed, the women earn N250. That is N3000 for 12 drums and N1500 for six.

Palm kernel cake used as feed for for swine and fertilizer for crop production

Whenever there is a scarcity of Palm kernels, the women go for two weeks and sometimes more without working and that affects their income. They leave the location between 5-6 pm daily.

Catherine often feels weakness in her bones and pain in her chest whenever she returns home after each day’s work. The smoke from the fire disturbs her eyes. But she rarely takes medication.

“I don’t want to get used to it and always spend my money on drugs, “she said.  “I have allowed my body to get used to the process. For my eyes, I buy Yeast and eat enough vegetables. I also drink soda water whenever it blocks my breathing”.

Africa is hardest hit

The use of open fires and solid fuels for cooking remains one of the world’s most pressing health and environmental problems, directly impacting nearly half of the world’s population- more than 3 billion- and causing nearly four million premature deaths each year, according to the Global Alliance for Clean Cookstoves.

In Sub-Saharan Africa alone, some 950 million people- about 81 per cent of the population- are said to rely on wood and charcoal for cooking, a number which is estimated to grow to 1.67 billion by 2050.

Research also indicates that the highest death rates from cooking fuel pollution occur in poorer African countries, with smoke inhalation from indoor and outdoor cooking causing between 1.6 million and 3 million deaths of children in the continent yearly.

Among the health issues arising from smoke inhalation In developing countries, including Nigeria include respiratory infections, eye damage, heart and lung disease and lung cancer, cardiovascular diseases and bronchitis which are significant causes of death in both children under five and women.

Of the 4 million global deaths recorded annually, 27% are due to pneumonia, 18% from stroke, 27% from ischaemic heart disease, 20% from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) and 8% are from lung cancer, according to data from WHO data.

Kelo Uchendu, Policy Lead of YOUNGO, the UN Framework Convention on climate change, (UNFCCC) Children and youth constituency, said that apart from being one of the drivers of death, especially in Africa, open fire cooking remains one of the major causes of unsustainable tree harvest and is responsible for about 20% of black carbon emission.

The training process

Before Duru started the business in 2020, she was trained for two months on how to pour the chaff into the drums and what quantity to ensure that it does not waste as you turn. She was also trained on how to add fire to the product and what quantity of water to add and how to stir.

“If you pour too much water, for instance, it becomes hard for you to stir, “she said. “Some people learn everything about the business in one month while some catch up in three months,”.

When she resumed, she worked for one week and stopped because she could not bear the hit from the drums and the stress that comes with the processing. But she came back again, determined this time to work and earn money for herself and her family.

Duru stirs her drums of palm kernel chaff

The mother of five had worked as a caregiver in a private nursery school in Enugu where she was earning a meagre N5000 as salary every month.  But It was hard enough to meet her needs.

“Sometimes, I was not paid my salary in full and sometimes, they often withheld it, “she recalled.  “And it always resulted in quarrels. “I could not save up or invest in anything”.

But in her current job, she gets paid daily and earns more than three times her salary at her former school.  Depending on her strength, Duru earns between N1500 and N3000 daily. She also gets N500 as money for feeding daily.

“With the money I make, I am able to support my husband who is a commercial bus driver in taking care of the family, “she said.

Since she started the job, Duru has not fallen sick because she has become used to the business. She takes Sodar water because of the smoke she inhales Sometimes, I spend almost the entire day here.

Duru comes out here as early as 7 am to be able to meet up with her daily target. On arrival, she begins by scrapping the drums for Palm Kernel cake which she arranges in small bags.

Where the women fetch water used for production

Usually, when she returns home, exhausted, she lays down on a cement floor to be able to regain her strength. She said that several women had also stopped working after some time because they could not cope with the stress that comes with it.

Like Duru, Ngozi Godwin got into the processing business in 2020. Before then, she was into petty foodstuff trading inside Ogbete, Enugu’s Main Market. But the money she makes was hardly enough for her to pay bills back home.

A mother of five, she also worked as a cleaner as a government officer. But her monthly salary of N20,000 was often delayed. She always transported herself to the office, spending the little she had.  Sometimes, before she gets paid, she spends everything on household needs.

“It was hard for me to save, “she said. “All of that frustrated me and I had to find an alternative, especially as someone who had children,”. My sister who had been in the business for more than 20 years now introduced me to it.

Godwin pours water into the drum

She explained that although the processing business is stressful, it is more profitable and she can support her husband who is a commercial bus driver in taking care of the family. It also allows her more time to do other things for herself.

“I am often exhausted whenever I return home, but I must come the next day to work because I have to make money,” Now, I can save from the N3000 I earn daily”.

No efforts to invest in sustainable approaches

At the U.N. Climate Change Conference (COP26), African countries, including Nigeria renewed their commitment to transitioning from polluting cooking fuels. They were also determined in their call for an affordable energy transition.

However, Uchendu said that the Nigerian government often looks at the bigger picture without realistic timelines when talking about energy transition, and climate policies on strategies.

“The government is failing to understand the different small scale grass root innovations and how local women-especially those into Palm Kernel processing- can be supported with more sustainable approaches to business, thereby increasing their income, “he said. “Their activities are hardly recognised”.

He noted that these women often resort to fuelwood at the expense of their health and the environment because they lack the funds to adopt more energy-efficient methods in their processing activities.

“Energy transition has to be a coordinated effort, from the bottom to the top and this means supporting women with cleaner and healthier alternatives which will cut down the time and resources used, that is lesser input and more output, “he said.  Private entities can also come in to invest in these women and boost productivity,”.

Catherine and other women remain hopeful that more energy-efficient methods will be introduced to make their work a lot easier and less harmful to their health.

 

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By Frederick Clayton and Sonja Smith

Photography by Margaret Courtney-Clarke

Ever since independence, Namibians have sought education, employment and better lives in Windhoek, the country’s political and industrial epicentre. It’s harder to make a living in rural Namibia – southern Africa’s driest savannah – where there’s little to no infrastructure, investment or industry. With so few opportunities to work and study, thousands leave for the city every year, and the capital’s population has tripled since independence.

2022 – In Max-Mutongolume, an extension of the Havana informal settlement outside of Windhoek, toilets built by Development Workshop Namibia in 2019 for the Smart Kindergarten preschool are kept locked at all times for fear of vandalism. To use the toilets, which are painted with instructional graphics on how to use them properly, children are accompanied by a volunteer supervisor.

This influx of migration has stretched the city’s limits and worsened sanitation. Informal settlements, like Havana, have expanded uncontrollably as people arrive faster than Windhoek can provide services. These newcomers build shacks in tiny pockets of space without any regulation, arrangement or design. 

“There’s no structure, no planning; you cannot put in water pipes,” said Sebastian Husselmann, Windhoek’s chief engineer for bulk and wastewater. “How do you put a sewage network in an unplanned area?”

Conditions here are perfect for the spread of disease as overcrowding leads to the cross-contamination of faeces, water and food. “Some of them are 19, 20, 35 in one house. One toilet for 35 people – it’s not healthy or hygienic,” says Councilor Rodman Katjaimo.  

This is where Hepatitis E hit hardest, accounting for 62% of confirmed and suspected cases during Namibia’s recent outbreak, which started in 2017.

2019 – An oryx suffered a common fate for many wild animals in the arid Namib desert of western Namibia. The poorly maintained fences surrounding the national park separate wildlife from the few sources of water that exist on neighboring private land. In their search, the animals will try to jump the fence, only to end up trapped and mauled to death by jackals, vultures or hyenas

In the run-up to the 2019 elections, President Hage Geingob declared living conditions in informal settlements a “humanitarian crisis” and promised to rid cities of shacks before 2024. But this hasn’t happened. In Windhoek, they are now growing at a rate of 10% each year, according to Sade Gawanas, the city’s former mayor and member of the Landless People’s Movement Party. 

Namibia’s urban and rural development minister, Erastus Uutoni, declined to comment on the government’s failure to slow the growth of informal settlements, but, in February 2023, he said Namibia faced serious sanitation problems if urbanization was left unchecked. He called on local authorities to direct budgeting toward sanitation infrastructure and upgrading the informal settlements. 

Ten years ago, Letisia Nghiondjwa, 44, moved to Havana with her husband from Okanguati village in northern Namibia “for a better life.” She makes a living selling fat cakes — fried dough coated in sugar — and oshikundu, a traditional Namibian brew. But she and her husband are two of many who have been squeezed into dangerously squalid conditions.

“We live by the dumpsite, and when it rains you cannot sleep [because of] the smell,” she says. “It’s been 10 years now, and nothing much has been done by the government to make our lives easier… We sleep in sewage.”

Across the political spectrum, ministers, politicians and councillors have called for greater investment in rural areas, and yet Namibia’s rural development and coordination budget dropped 33% between 2019 and 2022, according to CCIJ’s analysis.

2022 – Martin Bonafatius, 32, and his neighbors work to extend a communal water point to the next neighborhood in Kavango East in northern Namibia. The government installed one tap for a large community, and so residents have chipped in to buy pipes and dig trenches to extend the line. Two 100-meter pipes cost N $5800 (or about $400), as well as a free dayÕs labor from six men. The first tap was installed in the 1990s. The residents have built seven more since 2020. ÒWe donÕt want to die waiting for [the] government,Ó he says.

“Everybody over the years has just been centralizing into Windhoek,” said Archie Benjamin, SWAPO member and CEO for the municipality of Swakopmund. “The intention of the government at independence was to develop the rural areas to such an extent that people don’t feel the need to relocate, but that has not really worked out.”

The government must act soon if it wants to address this growing issue. Urbanization is creating conditions that lead to more death and disease as settlements like Havana expand, and climate change is exacerbating the problem as persistent drought conditions for the past seven years have left many in rural Namibia who depend on crops and livestock jobless.

Simon Dirkse, head of climate at Windhoek’s Meteorological Institute, was pessimistic in his assessment of Namibia’s future and the impact of more extreme weather events. “Yes, climate change is forcing migration,” he said, adding “our poverty levels and these extreme events don’t go together.”

But people need to work. Selma Mpasi, 21, who sits in the shade selling oranges by the side of the road with her two-year-old daughter sleeping on her lap, said business is slow, with fewer tourists passing these days. “Our lands are so dry,” she says. “I want to go to Windhoek.”

2022 – Two typical government toilets in a state of disrepair in Havana, an informal settlement on the outskirts of Namibia’s capital.


Namibia is one of many countries in Africa struggling with the harshest impacts of climate change, but here the issue is amplifying the lack of adequate sanitation in and around cities.

Attempts to fill the sanitation gaps

 Ndahambelela Indongo, 39, lives in Max-Mutongolume, a community inside Havana informal settlement. She used to walk for an hour into the hills to find a safe space to defecate, but after learning about the negative health effects, she built her own toilet and tippy tap – a hygienic hand-washing mechanism that uses running water.  

Indongo got her information from a sanitation center run by Development Workshop Namibia (DW), an NGO that has helped communities across the country become open defecation free (ODF) – status granted when a community shows an ongoing adoption of good hygiene practice and all its members have access to sanitation facilities, with at least 80% of residents using them.   

DW does this by using Community-Led Total Sanitation (CLTS), a collaborative, bottom-up approach aimed at achieving and sustaining ODF free status by focusing on “igniting a change in sanitation behaviour through community participation rather than constructing toilets.” Facilitators trained on CLTS help community members understand the consequences of open defecation, which they hope will lead to mobilization, a demand for sanitation and the community deciding for themselves what action they will take.  

Since its inception, DW says it has built 66 sanitation centers in public spaces that each include a demonstration toilet to incentivize residents to build their own. To date, it claims it has trained 323 local brick-layers in toilet construction, who can then offer their services to assist residents. (CCIJ has not been able to independently verify those figures.)

 In the absence of government-backed sanitation services and information campaigns, schemes like these have helped transform informal settlements and rural communities by creating a demand for sanitation and motivating residents to invest in solutions. But only 13 areas in Namibia are currently ODF. 

2022 – Roughly 90 kilometers outside of Rundu, Namibia, Mr. Hangura, 84, was en route from his far-off resettled farm to collect water for his family but got stranded with a punctured tire. While his oxen graze in the bushes, he waits for a grandson to return with a repaired inner tube, which he says could take two days.

 Organizations like DW and UNICEF cannot facilitate this kind of change nationwide, and Shuuya is realistic about what Namibia can accomplish without government support. “We are not going to be able to achieve the SDG6 goal unless something drastic happens,” he said. “We need a national campaign with proper government leadership to promote the importance of sanitation. That would really make a change.”

Reasons for hope 

Since the turn of the millennium, the number of people using basic sanitation services in Botswana has increased by 28.1%, and the country was among just a handful of sub-Saharan nations to achieve the UN’s Millennium Development Goals of halving the number of people without access to basic sanitation by 2015, doing so five years ahead of schedule.

Botswana continues to improve sanitation by actively advocating and improving legislation while promoting hygiene. In 2017, the Ministry of Land Management, Water and Sanitation Services laid out its responsibilities of “coordinating and monitoring sanitation services,” managing “on-site sanitation” and improving WASH services alongside the Ministry of Health. 

Botswana has also invested in both wet and dry sanitation. And, since 2001, the government has allocated almost a fifth of its budget to health care every year.

The nation now faces its own challenges in reaching zero open defecation by 2030, as diarrheal diseases remain a prominent concern, and there is still a stark gap between urban and rural sanitation levels. But Botswana’s government understands that prioritizing sanitation and public health underpins economic growth and better living conditions, which is reflected in deliberate strategy and policy. 

By contrast, progress in Namibia has faltered. However, there is still a chance that the country will embrace more aggressive investment and focus on improving sanitation by raising awareness and working with communities.  

SWAPO’s 2021 Harambee Prosperity Plan II allocated N$120 million ($8 million) to officially launch CLTS in Namibia and “increase WASH awareness through the community construction of latrines.” The government has also trained staff from four ministries on CLTS, while the latest draft of Namibia’s 2022-2027 National Sanitation and Hygiene Strategy combines “awareness development” and “changing social norms” with providing infrastructure.

Later in 2021, the government also launched the Namibia Water Sector Support Programme (NWSSP), one of the nation’s biggest ever infrastructure projects aimed at directly improving sanitation for 1 million Namibians, funded by a $121.7 million loan from the Africa Development Bank in 2019. Targets include reducing open defecation in rural areas to 55% by 2025 and ensuring access to improved sanitation services for all Namibians by 2030.

2019 – Though living in a country plagued by hardships, Selma Jacobs performs a traditional rain dance across the barren Omongwa (ÒSaltÓ) Pan in eastern Namibia. Of prime importance to the Kalahari bushmen/San groups are ritual dances that serve to heal the group. Here Selma goes into a trance dance while women clap their hands and chant to her altered state of existence. Birth, death, gender, rain and weather are all believed to have supernatural significance.

When the project was launched in August 2021 by Calle Schlettwein, Namibia’s Minister for Agriculture, Water and Land Reform, he urged service providers, contractors and consultants not to cut corners and appealed for “accountability, transparency and a corruption-free atmosphere to prevail.” 

This sounds good on paper, but after more than a year, the scheme’s major projects are still in the design and procurement phase. Schlettwein’s office admitted that the NWSSP had had “a slow start” and that “much more funding” would be required to meet SDG6. 

Lukas Shilongo, 21, who lives in Havana, is already skeptical. “They make campaigns, lie to us, then they forget,” he said. “They promise us water, electricity, toilets. [They don’t] come.”

Gawanas, the former Windhoek mayor, agreed that leaders had used sanitation as a campaign tactic during elections and later broke their promises. “I don’t think [politicians] want to solve the problem,” she said. “They want to keep people begging for more because it is their tool to stay in power.”  

Geingob was reelected as president for a second term in 2019. However, that election saw SWAPO’s vote percentage drop significantly from 87% in 2014 to 56% — its biggest loss of support in the nation’s history, as drought, recession and a massive corruption scandal weighed on voters.

2022 – By this time of year, in the rural Kavango East region of northern Namibia, residents would usually be plowing their farms. Now that the rain arrives two months later, their only business is to sell oranges on the roadside.

As Namibians return to the ballot box in 2024, they may be tired of begging for their human rights, too. As SWAPO’s electoral dominance fades, politicians of all parties and at every level could be forced to keep their promises on sanitation services, or risk being held accountable at the polls. 

Alfons Kaundu, a Mbunza traditional authority chief in rural Namibia, thinks that’s a possibility. “People are suffering here,” he said. “The government is not respecting people’s rights. [But] maybe the next election is going to be different.” 

Namibia’s rural development and coordination budget drop was calculated using Vote 17 found in Government Accountability Reports from 2019-2020 and 2021-2022.

This report was produced by the Centre for Collaborative Investigative Journalism (CCIJ), a non-profit organisation that brings together investigative reporters, visual storytellers and data scientists to investigate key global issues affecting communities. This report was supported by the Pulitzer Centre.

 

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By Frederick Clayton and Sonja Smith

Photography by Margaret Courtney-Clarke

In 2012, a UN special rapporteur said Namibia’s sanitation deficit was due to a “lack of a common vision” and an “absence of effective coordination among the different ministries.” In 2023, these are still the biggest obstacles to improving sanitation.

Xhuka Shorty and his family are San, an indigenous group of people in southern Africa. Eight years ago, he and 16 members of his family were evicted from the farmland where they had lived and worked as labourers for generations. 

Left to survive off Shorty’s monthly pension of N$1300 ($87), they migrated to Katumba village in northwest Namibia, where they lived under the shade of a tree. One day in 2019, the government installed a toilet next to Shorty’s tree. “What am I supposed to do with this?”, he asked. 

Shorty was given a dry toilet — a type of toilet that uses no water or chemicals to move waste along. Instead, excrement drops into a tank or bag that must be emptied and cleaned. The lifetime costs of dry toilets are lower than that of flush toilets as they save on water, and some even produce fertilizer from the dried waste. In southern Africa’s driest country, where sewage connections reach just 35% of citizens, they are vital to providing sanitation.  

But they do require more work. There’s no water seal to protect from the smell, so things can get ugly quickly without daily cleaning and good ventilation. Every so often the tank must be emptied. And if the toilet is a pit latrine, then one must dig another hole and move the pot before next use. There are also things you can’t always put down the hole – such as water – and, like all toilets, sometimes they need fixing.

None of this is obvious, especially if you’ve never used one.

2022 – A self-built shower, locked with wiring, by the side of the road in Havana informal settlement on the outskirts of Windhoek, Namibia. Photo: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

In 2012, after visiting Namibia, the UN’s special rapporteur on the human right to safe drinking water and sanitation, Catarina de Albuquerque, outlined that public participation “in the design, implementation and monitoring” of toilet initiatives would be indispensable in providing the country with sanitation. She also warned that the benefits of investing in sanitation would be lost if the government failed to give equal attention to “hygiene promotion and awareness raising on the benefits of safe sanitation.”

Simply put, building toilets would not guarantee their use. People must want to use them, but to create that incentive many Namibians, who had lacked adequate sanitation for decades, would need to be educated on the benefits and instructed on proper cleaning, maintenance and hygiene.

The government acknowledges this. In fact, the government’s 2008 Water Supply and Sanitation Policy outlined that improving sanitation would be achieved by “community involvement and participation.” And yet it appears it has not followed its own guidance.

In 2012, the government constructed 10,000 dry Ecosan toilets across five northern regions at a cost of N$181.5 million ($22.4 million), but many are no longer usable because residents say they were not provided with instruction, promotion, cleaning or maintenance guidance upon installation.

Paulus Mutikisha, the headman for Ekolanaambo, a village in northern Namibia’s Oshana region and one of the beneficiaries in 2012, told the Namibian Sun in 2019, “We have never used [the toilets] because we were never trained on how to use them,” adding that some facilities were not installed properly. ”Money has been wasted, and the structures are… falling apart,” he said.

2022 – From their home in Katondo village in Kavango West in northern Namibia, Elizabeth Katota and her family walk down to the infested Okavango River each evening– as do so many families. Photo: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

In 2014, many beneficiaries of a scheme that aimed to build 6,500 pit latrines across the country returned to the bush to defecate. Residents of the Coblenz and Okondjatu villages in central Namibia complained about the stench, bemoaning their inability to keep the toilets in good condition. “We only have a few of these dry pit toilets, and as much as they are helpful, we are challenged when it comes to their maintenance,” Unjee Usora told the Namibian. “At the end of the day, the toilet is filled with faeces.”

The latest draft of Namibia’s 2022-2027 National Sanitation and Hygiene Strategy, reviewed by CCIJ, accepts that “[u]ser involvement in the choice of sanitation systems and their construction, operation and maintenance [was] limited… [leading] to sanitation facilities not being used, operated or maintained properly.”

Flush or dry, providing sanitation is not just an infrastructure project, and the government is aware of this too. It was the duty of the Ministry of Agriculture, Water and Land Reform (MAWLR) to organize “the training of communities on operation and maintenance,” according to the government’s 2010-2015 National Sanitation and Hygiene Strategy. The Ministry of Health and Social Services (MoHSS), meanwhile, was responsible for conducting “hygiene education in rural areas and informal settlements.” But this doesn’t appear to have happened.

In fact, according to the latest draft of Namibia’s 2022-2027 National Sanitation and Hygiene Strategy, MAWLR and the Ministry of Urban and Rural Development (MURD) alone built 20,230 sanitation facilities between 2009 and 2019, yet “no community involvement and participation or sanitation hygiene promotion activities were incorporated.” During those 10 years, open defecation dropped by just 2.7% nationwide, while sanitation levels in urban areas actually declined.

CCIJ asked Dr Elijah Ngurare, MAWLR’s Deputy Executive Director for Water Affairs, why Namibia had failed to engage communities in training and operation or to run a national campaign promoting hygiene. He said, “Sanitation challenges have been acknowledged and the government has now decided to scale up the process… construction, maintenance and rehabilitation is going to be the norm. This includes both rural-urban and rural sanitation.”

But the government has made implementing such strategies as complicated as possible. Rather than centralizing responsibility for improving sanitation, seven ministries, regional councils and local authorities have each been tasked with its delivery: MAWLR, MoHSS, MURD, the Ministry of Education, Arts and Culture (MoEAC), the Ministry of Environment Forest and Tourism (MEFT) and the Ministry of Gender Equality, Poverty Eradication and Social Welfare (MGEPESW) each have funding for sanitation in their budgets.

Meanwhile, local authorities – partly funded by the central government – are responsible for providing sanitation in urban areas, including informal settlements, and the Ministry of Work and Transport (MWT) is responsible for developing new and managing existing wet sanitation systems.

This division of duties and funding makes it especially difficult to monitor and track investment in sanitation, as well as Namibia’s adherence to the 2015 Ngor declaration, in which the government promised to annually commit a minimum of 0.5% GDP to sanitation and hygiene from 2020 onward.

The latest version of Namibia’s 2022-2027 Sanitation and Hygiene Strategy acknowledges that the government and local authorities “do not have a clear budget line for sanitation… As a result, the sanitation budget is… difficult to track.”

Shuuya of UNICEF Namibia said this contributed to poor coordination of the sanitation sector, something the government admitted in its 5th National Development Plan. “The sector is… not playing together,” he explained, adding he was desperate to see the Namibian government develop a separate sanitation budget so that it could monitor funding moving forward.

The consequences of insufficient governance are evident in surveying the Namibian landscape. Damaged, disused and derelict government toilets can be found across the country. Often, they are filthy beyond use, blocked by a newspaper or filled with excrement, and a considerable number no longer function.

2019- Xhuka Shorty, aged 102, and his family settled under a tree in Katumba village, now a Herero settlement in the Otjozondjupa region of Namibia, in 2015

Cutting corners

At a time when sanitation is in desperate need of a dedicated, coordinated and potentially more costly approach, those in the private sector say the government has complicated their efforts to provide more sustainable options. 

Eline van der Linden is the executive director of Omuramba Impact Investing, the sole distributor of a dry toilet called the Enviro Loo. Unlike the ventilated pit latrines preferred by the government, her toilets reduce odor by separating waste from urine and are built with a closed container that prevents groundwater pollution. Crucially, she also offers user and maintenance training upon installation — including refresher courses on cleaning and maintenance with locals who can then charge the community a fee for their services as cleaners or janitors. 

But the technology and training come at a higher price tag, which is why van der Linden no longer bids on government tenders. Her cost simply exceeds government specifications.

“[The government] thinks cheap solutions will last,” said van der Linden, who has never seen training included as part of a tender. “When they do put dry toilets down, they do it without any additional effort… No toilet system will work without educating communities on daily cleaning.”

A proper approach is not as cheap and easy as simply building toilets, but it has proven effective. In 2010, German development agency Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit (GIZ) supported the Omaruru Basin Management Committee (OmBMC) in central Namibia by providing 140 residents inside an informal settlement with 21 dry Otji toilets, designed by Namibian NGO Clay House Project (CHP).

CHP staff built the toilets while training local labourers how to do so too, and nurtured a sense of ownership as beneficiaries made a small financial contribution and assisted in painting and digging. Each toilet was equipped with instructions and handwashing facilities, and CHP also conducted an awareness-raising campaign to promote the use of toilets which remained in use and well maintained more than 18 months later. The OmBMC said there was even demand for 100 more. 

But more toilets required additional funding or subsidies from the Municipality of Omaruru via MAWLR. As well as their relatively high cost, the local authorities also considered them inferior to “high-class” flush toilets despite the extra maintenance, construction and operational costs of flush toilets. A 2012 CHP report on the Otji toilets concluded that “[w]ithout the support of decision-makers, it will not be possible to establish a dry sanitation system on a large scale.” 

Van der Linden says she has encountered the same stubborn obsession with flush toilets, and markets her toilets as a sustainable “in the meantime solution” for people who will one day, ideally, have flush. Her Enviro Loos, like Otji toilets, are not the cheapest on the market, but she thinks that instead of investing larger amounts in the best dry toilets, the government would rather wait to score points with flush toilets. “They do not see any benefits in dry sanitation,” she added. 

Shuuya says there’s some truth in this. Under the apartheid regime, which preceded Namibia’s independence, “flush toilets were the preserve of the colonizers, the white people,” he explains. “Blacks were provided with pit toilets and bucket toilets.”

Namibia’s Minister for Health and Social Services, Dr Kalumbi Shangula, declined to comment on the historical connection, but Shuuya argues that this helps explain why many Black Namibians still perceive even quality dry toilets as inferior.

“But then there are practicalities,” Shuuya notes. “You can only have a flush toilet when you have water.”

Windhoek rural constituency councillor and member of the opposition party the Popular Democratic Movement, Petrus Adams, has flush toilets in his town, Groot Aub, but residents don’t always have enough water to use them. “[But] open defecation,” he says, “what does it cost?” 

In a country where almost a third of citizens worry about where their next meal will come from, many can scarcely afford the 16,000 litres of extra water it costs to flush a toilet per person each year.

“Wet sanitation risks making unaffordable water even more unaffordable,” added de Alberqueue, the UN’s special rapporteur who urged Namibia to promote dry toilets in her 2012 report, warning that if people continue to perceive dry toilets as inferior, they would never embrace them. But she advised that no one size fits all, and that “communities and households must have choices about which sanitation technology suits their needs best.”

This, too, requires community engagement, and while that outreach is costly, so is the price of poor sanitation. Shangula told CCIJ that inadequate access to sanitation was leading to sickness and infection, while the risk of disease and pollution also threatens tourism and agricultural industries.

“There’s a need to establish what the cost of inaction is,” added Shuuya. “Perhaps the decision-makers don’t have the evidence to say, ‘This is what we’re losing out on by not investing in sanitation.’” 

But while the full cost of Namibia’s crisis is unknown, it is clear the government has significant work to do to address it in a timely manner.

2022 – A couple returns home after walking a kilometer out of town to defecate in the Democratic Resettlement Community.

A weak defence

By the government’s own admission, sanitation has stalled in recent years, and the various ministries tasked with improving sanitation have each failed to prioritize the sector

MURD, for example, has failed to hit its toilet targets in four of the last five years. In 2021, the ministry promised to construct 10,000 new toilets in rural areas but built only 980 before claiming the original target was “erroneously indicated” and that 1,000 was the real target. In explaining the failure to meet even the 1,000 toilets target, MURD said “late submission of activity plans and accountability reports from the regions result[ed] in late approval of budgets.”

The sector has also failed to communicate its strategy with members of parliament. A draft of Namibia’s 2022-2027 National Sanitation and Hygiene Policy acknowledged that one of the biggest obstacles were politicians and local authorities continuing to promise flush facilities as ministries agreed to promote dry sanitation in urban and rural areas.

And 14 years ago, the government outlined plans – with input from four ministries, local authorities and the office of the prime minister – to stimulate “behavioural change” with a national hygiene campaign. This was supposed to happen by 2015, yet Namibia has still not had a nationwide campaign to promote both sanitation and hygiene.

MAWLR, charged with the coordination of government sanitation services, admitted via email to CCIJ that challenges in improving sanitation included “poor sanitation practices and the non-involvement of communities,” but said limited access to water, resources and finance remained a hindrance. 

But vast sums have been allocated to the ministries responsible for sanitation. Whether those funds are actually spent on sanitation is a matter of priority, and, in 2022, MAWLR cut its Water Supply and Sanitation Coordination budget by 72.7%

Ngurare admitted that “most funding earmarked for water and sanitation in the last couple of years had unfortunately been redirected to the Neckartal dam,” Namibia’s largest dam that supports a large irrigation scheme in the south.

Shangula, the health minister, also blamed a lack of funds, arguing low tax revenues prevented Namibia from prioritizing sanitation. “You can only [improve sanitation] if you have money, and we don’t have enough for it,” he said. “The economic base of Namibia is very small.”

But, again, it may just be an issue of prioritization. In recent years, the lion’s share of Namibia’s health budget allocation has been spent on curative rather than preventative services, with little left for projects that could promote sanitation and hygiene.

And while Namibia may have a narrow tax base, according to the World Bank, it generates more tax revenue per capita than Botswana, Lesotho and almost as much as Zambia, three countries in southern Africa with better sanitation coverage than Namibia.  

Shangula denied that other countries in the region were performing better than Namibia – with lower defecation rates and better access to sanitation – despite being presented with data that ran counter to his claim. “Botswana has a similar setup with Namibia… they are struggling with the same issues we are,” he said. “I don’t think that comparison is correct.”

While Botswana also struggles with poor informal settlements, sparsely populated rural areas, water scarcity and an arid w, according to the World Health Organization and UNICEF’s Joint Monitoring Programme, 80% of its citizens have access to at least basic sanitation, more than double that of Namibia.

Even at the highest levels of government, a lack of familiarity with the data is not uncommon. In Namibia’s preparatory meeting notes to the UN ahead of the 2023 water conference, the government claimed 46% of rural communities have access to “safely managed sanitation,” but Namibia’s own census mapping report, published in the same year, states less than 27% of Namibians in rural areas have such access. Calle Schlettwein, Namibia’s Minister for Water, Agriculture and Land Reform who attended the conference in New York, declined to comment on the discrepancy.

Eleven years ago, de Alberqueque said Namibia’s sanitation deficit was not a result of a lack of finances, but a “lack of a common vision,” “prioritization” and an “absence of effective coordination among the different ministries and between central and local government.” In 2023, these are still the biggest obstacles to improving sanitation. 

But where the government has fallen short in reaching its stated sanitation goals, others are now stepping in. However, urbanization and climate change are pushing back, escalating a crisis that threatens more death, disease and contamination in the next decade.

This report was produced by the Centre for Collaborative Investigative Journalism (CCIJ), a non-profit organisation that brings together investigative reporters, visual storytellers and data scientists to investigate key global issues affecting communities. This report was supported by the Pulitzer Centre.

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Frederick Clayton and Sonja Smith

Photography by Margaret Courtney-Clarke

Every day, Natalia Shaanika, 15, escorts her five younger siblings across a busy road to a landfill site to relieve themselves. As they squat – partially hidden by scraps of corrugated iron and used toilet paper – their older sister keeps watch.

When a car comes their way, Shaanika hurries them back half-naked toward their shack. Flies swarm over a bucket of water where they each wash their hands.

“We are a family of eight in a shack in a community that has no water points or toilets,” says Shaanika, who resides in Swakopmund’s Democratic Resettlement Community (DRC), one of Namibia’s largest informal settlements, where some 20,000 people live without running water or sewerage.

2019 – A toilet in Epukiro Pos-3, a.k.a. ÒThe Lost Place,Ó a bleak encampment in a hostile environment for bushmen who have been evicted from private farms in the Omaheke region of Namibia. This region is the least populous in the country and is largely known today as a place for hunting game by tourists. However, it is also the site of the 20th centuryÕs first genocide, when tens of thousands of Herero and Nama people died at the hands of German forces. Under apartheid rule, they were then removed from their land and placed into camps based on ethnicity. As of 2021, the German government has agreed to pay 1 billion euro over 30 years for projects in communities impacted by the genocide. Up until recently, these groups were excluded from the discussions of German reparations.

These conditions mean Shaanika and her siblings suffer from frequent infections and bouts of diarrhoea, along with the thousands of other men, women and children who use the same and other similar strips of wasteland as toilets in the DRC.

Their struggle is not unique. From the outskirts of cities to the most rural parts of the country, over 1 million Namibians lack adequate access to toilets, and they are often faced with only one option: open defecation.

According to the World Health Organization and UNICEF’s Joint Monitoring Programme (JMP) 2020 data, Namibia ranks sixth for the highest rates of open defecation in the world at 47%. Less than half of the country’s 2.5 million citizens use facilities that safely separate waste from human contact, while some 5% use inadequate facilities such as open pits, buckets and hanging latrines.

The nation’s severely low levels of sanitation stand in stark contrast to the rest of southern Africa, a region where Namibia ranks the worst for sanitation coverage. Its rates of open defecation are more than double Angola’s to the north and almost five times higher than that of either neighboring Botswana or Zambia.

The consequences extend far beyond foul odor. The sheer amount of human feces deposited in and around Namibian homes makes avoiding contact and even ingestion almost impossible. Excrement litters the ground in spaces between shacks where children play with dirty hands, and flies travel freely from waste to fluids and food. As feces seep into the environment, crops are contaminated alongside vital water sources used for drinking, cooking and fishing.

These conditions put Namibians, especially children, at risk of deadly fecal-oral diseases and infections that cause diarrhoea, the second biggest killer of under-fives in the country, while sanitation-related deficiencies such as malnutrition and stunted growth are also prevalent.

2022 – A typical homemade toilet in the Democratic Resettlement Camp outside of Swakopmund, Namibia.

“If we don’t change our trajectory, things are definitely going to get worse, especially in the informal settlements and in the rural areas,” said Matheus Shuuya, water, sanitation, and hygiene (WASH) specialist at UNICEF Namibia. “We will experience more children getting sick… I’m sure we will also experience frequent outbreaks of other diseases.”

Education, dignity and safety are in jeopardy, too. Girls’ inability to manage their menstrual health on school premises that lack adequate sanitation leads to increased absenteeism, while Namibians risk rape, robberies and even wildlife attacks as they are forced to seek the privacy of the bush.

Reinard Enrich, 18, was attacked at night while defecating on a landfill in Havana, an informal settlement outside of Windhoek, the nation’s capital. “The absence of toilets has made our situation unsafe,” he said. “I was minding my own business, playing music on my phone. Two men approached me – one grabbed me by my throat, and another grabbed my phone. I couldn’t do anything, so I do not go out when it’s dark anymore.”

However, Namibia has ratified the core international human rights treaties which protect the right to sanitation, while its own constitution calls for “consistent planning to raise and maintain an acceptable level of nutrition and standard of living of the Namibian people and to improve public health.”

Namibia’s 2008 Water and Sanitation Supply Policy outlines that “essential water supply and sanitation services should become available to all Namibians, and should be acceptable and accessible at a cost which is affordable to the country as a whole.” The South West Africa People’s Organization (SWAPO) Party, which has governed the country since independence in 1990, has also committed Namibia to the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goal Six (SDG6) of ensuring all of its citizens have access to clean water and sanitation by 2030.

But according to JMP data, analyzed by the Center for Collaborative Investigative Journalism (CCIJ), stagnant sanitation levels over the past decade mean Namibia is not on course to hit these targets – not even close. While over 1 million Namibians wait for this basic human right to be granted, the government appears to be taking too few steps to address a crisis that may yet worsen due to climate change and rapid urbanization.

Despite pouring billions of Namibian dollars into sanitation in recent years, the country’s 5th National Development Plan stated that the sanitation sector has suffered from “poor coordination, lack of accountability, and spreading efforts and resources too thinly.” Though the current administration has vowed to improve sanitation access and to invest in educating Namibians on the value of good hygiene, it’s still too early to assess how successful this initiative will be.

Dr. Kalumbi Shangula, Namibia’s Minister for Health and Social Services, recognized the struggles facing Namibians. He told CCIJ that low sanitation was overburdening health services and keeping Namibians out of work, but he remained optimistic that conditions would improve. “[G]radually [sanitation] will catch up… As long as there is good will and people are talking about strategies, there is hope,” he said.

But many Namibians need more than hope.

Hilma Hamalwa, 35, lives a 30-minute walk from Shaanika in the DRC. When she realized that her neighbors were suffering from the same infections and illnesses after using the bush to defecate, she dug a hole in the ground for them — and added four slabs of corrugated iron for a little privacy.

“This is not the kind of life a human being should live,” she says.

The scope of the sanitation problem

Namibia’s informal settlements are among the hardest hit by poor sanitation. According to World Habitat, 40% of Namibians live in informal settlements. And, according to the Namibian Chamber of Environment (NCE), more than half of them lack access to any toilets at all. The NCE also estimates that at least 45 tons of human feces are deposited through open defecation each day in Windhoek’s informal settlements alone.

Havana is one of the largest informal settlements, with more than 50,000 shacks that squeeze up against one another. Men, women and children find pockets of dirt to relieve themselves on their way back from church, school or the market. Tissues, sanitary pads and excrement litter the ground.

2022 – Fish caught in the contaminated Okavango River are dried and later sold on the side of the road in the Kavango West region of Namibia. The lack of employment and scarcity of basic resources in the countryÕs rural areas pushes many people to rely on often unsafe practices to survive.

Several government toilets in Havana are in disrepair, with doors hanging off their hinges and latrines clogged to the brim. For those who have access to these toilets, many choose open defecation as the lesser of two evils.

Johannes Nghidinwa, 53, sits on the deck in front of his shack with his wife, who cradles their five-month-old baby. Their home rests in the shadows of a landfill site that has become one of many open-air communal toilets in Havana. “We are a community of thousands of people, but the toilets here are very few; you can count them on your hands,” he says. “Not a week passes by without any of us getting sick with diarrhea, fever and flu.”

For many others, especially women, the risks of using the bush at night are far too high, and they must defecate inside their own homes instead. Janet Gaes, 34, lives with her four children in Windhoek’s Otjomuise 8ste Laan informal settlement, and her shack sits on a hill overlooking a dry riverbed overflowing with toilet paper. During the day she takes her children to the riverbed, but at night they share a bucket at home.

“We do not go to the riverbed when it’s dark,” she said, washing her one-year-old on the path outside. “People get assaulted there, so at night we use the bucket to relieve ourselves. Then we throw the faeces out in the morning and wash [the bucket] again to use for the following night.”

Surpassing 70%, open defecation levels are even higher in the rural areas. According to 2020 data, almost half of Namibians are sprawled throughout sparsely populated villages that dot the horizon. Residents with water struggle to keep that water clean, and those without water often turn to river and groundwater supplies contaminated with their own excrement. Even clinics and schools lack adequate sanitation.

Mukennah Scholastika is the headmistress of a public primary school in rural Kavango East in northern Namibia, where students gather under the heat of classrooms built from corrugated iron. “We have 330 students. Until last month, we had no toilets, and they had to use the bush,” she explained.

2022 – The Ngcove Junior Primary School in Ndama, an informal settlement on the outskirts of Rundu, was built by the San (bushmen) community for their children. Up until a month before, there were no toilets on site. Now, thanks to community efforts, there are two toilets for 330 children and one for the teachers. There is no water tap on the premises, and each child is expected to bring a bottle of water to class.

“Students come late for class, and they are exposed to dangers in the bush like insects and snakes. Some go home and don’t come back again. Sometimes they even defecate in their clothes. Girls will miss school, especially when they are on their period,” Scholastika added.

She asked the parents to contribute toward the construction of two toilets for the students and one for the staff, each of which were built by the community and are maintained by the teachers. Long queues form before class starts in the morning. “We have one for the boys and one for the girls,” Scholastika noted.

2022 – Waste products, including sanitary napkins and infant diapers, are constantly being burned in the middle of Havana informal settlement. Residents keep the fires burning to manage the ongoing refuse produced in the camp and often fall sick with respiratory illness as a result of the fumes.

To avoid cross-contamination or contact with excrement is extremely difficult, but keeping clean is a challenge even health professionals face in rural areas. Nurse Sem Tetera, 23, helped to deliver a baby by the side of a road in Kavango West, Namibia’s poorest region with the poorest sanitation coverage. The new mother was rushed to his clinic, a small building with no toilets that only has water when the village chief can afford it.

“It’s a struggle working here,” said Tetera. “Most of the time we have no water, and it is a huge problem for us to work without it.”

In March 2023, Namibian Prime Minister Saara Kuugongelwa-Amadhila said the government had “identified the need to improve universal access to sanitation and hygiene in informal urban settlements and rural communities.”

2014 – A handmade toilet in the Democratic Resettlement Community was built by scraps from a nearby garbage dump to serve the needs of a then-nascent community of internal migrants. Formed in 2001, the DRC was intended to be a temporary resettlement area for people seeking work in nearby Swakopmund while waiting on subsidized housing. The camp has since grown into a permanent community of tens of thousands with no formal infrastructure for electricity or sanitation.

Indeed, proper sanitation keeps water and food free from contamination, children in school and people healthy and safe from danger. But attempts to provide adequate sanitation have yet to yield significant results in Namibia.

This report was produced in collaboration with the Center for Collaborative Investigative Journalism (CCIJ), a nonprofit organization that brings together investigative reporters, visual storytellers and data scientists to investigate key global issues affecting underserved communities.  This report was supported by the Pulitzer Center

Editorial: Yaffa Fredrick, Ajibola Amzat
Data: Sotiris Sidieris, Yuxi Wang
Design and visuals: Jillian Dudziak and Scott Lewis

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This report looks at how displaced women finding refuge inside the Abagena Internally Displaced Persons Camp, (IDP) in Makurdi, Benue State survive by working on farmlands.

In 2018, Doose Aodohemba, 25 watched as her 17-month-old baby Doowese, was killed when suspected criminal herdsmen attacked Umenge, one of the villages in Guma Local Government in Benue State.

It was a day after New Year’s Day in January. While Doose and her family slept, they heard deafening gunshots and people shouting and scampering for safety.  Quickly, she grabbed one of her children and her husband picked up a few of their clothes and they ran out of their house, leaving Doowese.

“I thought my husband already carried  Doowese,” Aodohemba said.  “When we ran a distance and did not see him, we quickly came back but saw the attackers burning our house”.

A woman inside the IDP heads to the farm with Cassava Stalks (photo credit-Arinze Chijioke)

From a distance, she watched them kill her child.

In the aftermath of the January coordinated attack on Guman and Logo LG, at least 80 people were killed while several others were injured. Residents fled their ancestral homes.  The state held a mass burial for victims of the attack.

All through that night, Doose, her husband and their remaining child trekked till they got to Makurdi, the Benue State capital, where they slept and the next morning, they came to Abagena, one of the official camps for internally displaced persons in the State.

Since then, Doose- like others who fled their homes- has not gone back for fear of being attacked. She has lost everything, her child. Her farm. Her home. Whenever she remembers his death and feels devastated, her husband-Aodohemba Tyokaa- tries to console her.

She also lost her husband’s brother, Abaa Tyokaa who was staying together with them. According to her, he had hidden himself when the herdsmen attacked the community, hoping that the dust will settle the new morning so he can carry some of their property.

“Sadly, they found him and killed him, “she said.

Benue, epicentre of conflict  

The age-long conflict between farmers and Fulani herders in Nigeria is reported to be most disastrous in Benue, where the Fulani militia are said to have attacked at least 303 times since 2005, killing over 2539 people which according to the Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project (ACLED) is nearly one-third of all the reported killings by the herdsmen in the country.

Due to frequent clashes between farmers and pastoralists, the Benue state government passed a  law banning open grazing of cattle in late 2017. The Open Grazing Prohibition and Ranches Establishment Law required livestock owners to buy land and establish ranches, prohibiting the open movement of animals within the state. It spells out punishments, including a five-year jail term or an N1 million fine for anyone whose cattle graze outside a ranch.

But rather than curb the violent attacks, the passing of the anti-open grazing law increased the wave of violent clashes in the state, including the attack on Guma and Logo which have recorded the highest number of attacks in the state.

In 2018 alone, criminal herdsmen reportedly carried out 82 attacks across the state, the highest of such violence in a single year, displacing hundreds of thousands of farmers such as Doose.

Struggle for survival

Before the attack, Doose and her husband were big-time farmers in Umenge. They had a vast expanse of land where they planted Rice, Maize and Yam.

Since 1976, Agriculture has remained the predominant occupation for the people of Benue State, with over 80 per cent of the state’s population engaged in food crop production as small-scale farmers on rich arable land spanning over 300 kilometres.

Benue is one of the major contributors to food production and security in Nigeria, with women like Doose producing 80 per cent of food in the state. But sustained crises in the state have continued to impact its agricultural sector, with the food production ratio in the state decreasing by 45 per cent.

“We always harvested over 70 bags of rice, 10 bags of Maize and over 200 tubers of yam,” she said. “We did not lack anything and always had enough to eat,”. We were a happy family”.

After the attack, everything changed. Now, she works on farmlands belonging to families living around the camp. Sometimes, she prepares heaps and ridges for planting. Sometimes, she helps in the planting and also weeds.

On a daily basis, she earns between N500 and N1000 which is hardly enough for her and her three children. Three years after the attack, she gave birth to a set of twins, In September 2021.

Women inside the camp prepare meals for their children (photo credit-Arinze Chijioke)

After their birth, work slowed down, forcing her to depend on neighbours and friends for food. But she hopes to resume and continue to work to fend for her family. She said her husband always travels in search of a job.

“I don’t have any other option than to work, “she said.

When this reporter met Doose inside the Abagena camp, she was carrying Torngu and Torkuma, her twin sons. As one of them suckles her breast, she feeds the other with a meal she had received from one of her neighbours.

She is one of several women who have been displaced from their homes and are having to work on farms to earn a living. While some of them go in search of farms to work on, others search for lands where they can cultivate their own crops and sell after which they share the proceeds with the landowners. The food provided by the camp authority is hardly enough.

Money earned is hardly enough

As each day breaks inside the Abagena IDP camp, Uverashe Dena, 30 only thinks of how to feed her children. She routinely travels from the camp in Makurdi to other locations in search of farms to work on. Like Aodohemba,  she earns between N500 and N1000.

Her husband farms too. But the money they both earn is hardly enough to feed the children- seven of them.

Four years ago, the family had enough to eat and sell.

Dena says money earned is hardly enough to feed her children (photo credit-Arinze Chijioke)

They had 1500 heaps of yam and over 100 ridges where they planted corn and other crops. But the narrative changed after Dena and her family fled their home in Torkula one of the villages in Guma local government after it was attacked by criminal herdsmen in late January 2018.

“We started hearing gunshots as we were about to retire to bed, “she said. The criminal herdsmen had made their way into our village and started shooting sporadically and destroying property”.

While no casualty was recorded, Dena said several houses were completely razed by the criminals who also carted away foodstuffs. She and her family escaped without anything, except the clothes they had on them. All they had was burnt- their house. Their farm. Their crops.

“All through the night, we trekked through bushes and pathways and when we got to Makurdi the state capital, we found the camp and slept,” We have been here since then”.

Whenever she does not get a job to do, she borrows food from other women inside the camp at Abagena and gives them back when she gets money and buys foodstuffs.  Sometimes, she goes hungry to let her children eat.

From farm to IDP camp

Christiana Sharbee came to the Abagena IDP camp in January 2018 after her community, Asangaba in Guma was attacked by herdsmen. She and her husband and children were on their farm when they suddenly started hearing gunshots.

Quickly, they ended work and on their way back home, they saw people running and they ran with their children.

“I lost one of my brothers-in-law, Utaghe Sharbee,” she said. “He stayed back after we left, thinking that the herdsmen will not come and that he will pack some of our clothes the next day and bring them to us. “As he was packing some clothes, they attacked and killed him at night”.

Sharbee escaped to the IDP from her farm (photo credit-Arinze Chijioke)

She said Utaghe was helpful to the family before he was killed.

“Whenever we did not have food to eat, he always provided, I feel pained each time I remember that he is not here”.

Before the attack, Christiana’s husband, Stephen used to cut down trees for a living in addition to their farm work. He earned as much as 30,000 after each job. They lived well.

To survive and cater for her family, she searches for farms within the Abagena IDP camp where she escaped after the attack.

Work not always available

Although women inside the Abagena IDP camp survive by working on farms, Msulshima Kwaghtser, 35 said that it is not always easy to find places to work.

“Sometimes, I go a whole week without finding people to work for,” she said. “There are many of us inside the camp who want to work and earn money. Sometimes, we have to travel outside the state in search of jobs”.

Like other women, farming was all that Msulshima Kwaghtser, 35 and her family had to do. In 2018, when herdsmen struck her community in Guma LGA, she was on her farm.

Kwaghtser prepares a meal for her children (photo credit-Arinze Chijioke)

As soon as they heard gunshots, she and her family ran, leaving everything behind. Their home, their farm and their property. They burnt her house and everything inside it.

“We trekked for two days before we got to the Abagena camp,” Since then, life has been difficult for us,”.  My husband travelled to Nasarawa state to get land he can farm on and earn money,”.

With what money she earns, Kwaghtser goes to the market and buys Corn and makes soup for her seven children. This has become almost like a staple food for her and the children. Sometimes, she says they starve.

Way out?

Emmanuel Chiwetalu, a PhD student at Edinburgh University Divinity School said that finding a lasting solution for the decades of conflicts in Benue State would require efforts by community leaders and individuals across affected communities.

“The ordinary farmers have only little to do about these killings, “he said. “The councillors and local government chairmen, the communal leaders and the state government officials must do more to help”.

He also said that although the federal government and national security agencies can help to manage the situation, the local leaders must recognise the immense power they have to prevent the lingering conflict.

According to him, qualitative research on communal conflict in Nigeria has shown that local leaders have collaborated in different parts of the country to consider potential sources of conflict between groups and successfully prevented violence in their community

“This kind of local peace work is part of the means through which peace and progress can be restored in Benue communities, he said. “Having a peaceful farmer-herder arrangement will also require the rejection of some of the suspicions and stereotypes that harm their relationship”.

 

 

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Coal was first discovered in Nigeria in 1909 at Udi in Enugu, south-eastern Nigeria. The country’s first coal mine, the Ogbete mine, opened six years later. The Nigerian Coal Corporation (NCC) was formed in 1950, taking on operations of Ogbete and other major coal mines across the country. 

Coal was one of Nigeria’s primary exports for much of the 20th century. However, significant changes in the Nigerian energy market increased the utilization of petroleum as a fuel source. Further disruption to the coal industry due to the outbreak of the Nigerian Civil War in 1967 and the Nigerian Enterprise Promotion Decree in 1972, which sought to transfer business ownership to Nigerians, contributed to significant declines in foreign investment and many foreign mining companies left the country. 

The Nigerian Coal Corporation eventually went bankrupt in 2002, leaving many of its mines abandoned without proper closure. The country has considerable remaining coal reserves. Production has dwindled over the past 20 years, hitting a record low of 40,000 metric tonnes in 2012. Olajide Adelana reports.

Abandoned coal mines: Enugu’s charred past hurting its present

Enugu – A once-forested valley sits silent as a graveyard. The scars left by heavy machinery on the swaths of forest are still evident, with chunks of coal waste littering the ground. Once seething like a beehive, the now abandoned Onyeama Coal Mine in the southeastern Nigerian city of Enugu, has become a shadow of itself.  The coal mine is one of Nigeria’s derelict coal fields which was closed in 2002 when the Nigerian Coal Corporation went bankrupt. Now the area is mostly farmland.

But the land is not fertile.

Sunday Okeke, a farmer, walks along one of the narrow paths into the mine looking very upset.  The maize he planted sprouted into healthy green stalks, and there was hope for a moment –until the stalks started wilting. Unemployed and with dim prospects of getting a job, Okeke and some residents of Onyeama, who once worked in the mine resorted to farming to feed their families. This decision was their undoing as they rarely make a profit. 

“The land is not very fertile. I only plant vegetables and some crops that are not deep-rooted, because they do not require as much nutrients and fertilizers,” he says. “I tried planting maize and I am disappointed at the outcome.” 

Many farmers in the areas are unaware that mining activities in their community years ago removed the topsoil, which contains much of the moisture and nutrients that crops need. They end up spending money on fertilizers, which reduces their profit. The Onyeama mine also polluted the water used for farming and household use. Bright-orange runoff from tunnels at the abandoned mine drains into local water sources. 

Communities across Nigeria face danger and pollution from abandoned mines

As of 2017, Nigeria had an estimated 1,200 identified abandoned mining sites—sites where mining activities ceased without proper closure or reclamation and continue to degrade the environment and pose physical dangers in the form of weakened and collapsing mine shafts, sinkholes, and water-filled pits.

The 2007 Nigerian Minerals and Mining Act, requires “progressive reclamation” – reclamation activities carried out simultaneously with mining operations – in newly approved industrial mining projects. The act also calls for mining companies to establish a reserve fund for environmental protection, mine rehabilitation, reclamation, and closure costs.  Although most of the now-abandoned mines in Nigeria, including in Enugu, predate the 2007 legislation, there have been few material changes in practice since the act was passed.

Section 30 of the Act stressed that, “a tax deductible reserve for environmental protection, mine rehabilitation, reclamation and mine closure costs shall be established by companies engaged in the exploitation of mineral resources.”

Reclamation includes filling depressions or hollows with soil or rock removed during excavation and planting trees to stabilize and restore the mined area. Best practices also include repairing wildlife habitats; removing office buildings, processing facilities, and transportation equipment; and sealing mine shafts and other openings. 

In Akwuke community, Enugu South Local Government Area (LGA), Enugu state, close to Okpara Mine, there is a complete collapse of mining infrastructure years after mining activities had taken place. The mining site was abandoned by the operators without efforts to address impacts on the community, residents alleged.

“Except for those who were employed when the coal mine was still active, there is no tangible benefit our community has gained from mining,” says youth community leader Sunday Nsude, pointing to an untarred road that has deteriorated due to flooding and poor maintenance.

Simon Ude, a resident, who worked as a security guard at the mine from 1996 and 2006, says he was laid off after the mine closed and given no severance pay. 

“I was not compensated and I am not the only one. I have a friend whose years of service was just 9 years and 9 months and he was also laid off without pay.”  Nigerian labour laws require compensation for laid-off employees based on the length of their employment. 

“I had to restart my life from scratch. I started a firewood business, but the income is insufficient to take care of my family’s needs,” Ude says with a tinge of regret

Since the Onyeama, Iva Valley, Ribadu, Okpara and Ogbete Mines (all located in Enugu) were abandoned, locals have had to contend with varying degrees of environmental and physical hazards. 

Mike Achio, who once worked in the Onyeama Coal Mine and now heads a community-led security team, says that the abandoned mine is now a hideout for criminals. 

“We regularly contend with criminal elements who have mastered the art of coming into the community to inflict pain on residents and escape through the abandoned mine,” he says. “Recently, we arrested some people at night peddling hard drugs, including cocaine and heroin, in the community.”

Achio, pointed out that respiratory diseases —including coal workers’ pneumoconiosis, commonly known as black lung disease —are also common among miners, due to long-term exposure to airborne coal dust.

 “Although I am lucky and have no issues with my health, many of my colleagues are not,” says Achio. “They are battling with different health problems such as chest pains and breathing problems. The majority of them were left to bear the consequences of long years of working at the mine without any help.”

Dr Onwubere Basden Jones, a medical expert specialising in cardiovascular and congestive heart diseases, says that elderly people in mining communities are likely to have co-morbidities associated with mining. 

“Years back when mining was still actively going on in these communities, there was an upsurge in the number of patients seeking medical attention for different diseases, including respiratory diseases,” he says. 

A city on the verge of collapse

Communities along the mining corridors in Enugu are also facing a range of environmental challenges, including flooding and landslides and significant erosion. Residents of Enugu-Ngwo, Amuzam, Agbaja Ngwo, and Nsude said that houses and properties have been washed away by gully erosion caused by heavy rains and landslides.

Despite these challenges, little research has been conducted on the impact of these abandoned mines on the environment. 

“A lot of people do not know the extent of the damage mining did to Enugu,” says Chinedu Nwafor, executive director of the Africa for Africa Initiative. He adds a warning about the state’s capital city of Enugu: The city is sitting on a ticking time bomb. If nothing is done, Enugu might collapse. “I don’t know why the government is yet to see this as an emergency.”

In particular, the network of underground mining tunnels in Enugu is poorly mapped so no one knows their full extent or how it may be exacerbating flooding and erosion issues. The local media have reported that the area is at risk of cave-ins. “Sometimes in the city you will notice a lot of earth movements and the land will collapse inward. This shows that that place is empty below,” says Nwafor.

Local sources including former miners estimate that the underground tunnels from Onyeama and Ribadu mines lead to Nsude (18 miles) and Abor (12 miles) respectively.

Lack of government action 

State and federal officials have paid some lip service to the impacts of abandoned mines on human health and the environment but have made little effort to address them. Ayodeji Adeyemi, a special adviser to the minister of mines and steel development, did not respond to requests for comment, despite promising on several occasions to forward queries to the appropriate desk and provide a response.

Senator Ike Ekweremadu, the chairman of the Senate Committee on Environment and one of the three senators representing Enugu State in the National Assembly did not respond to multiple emails. His assistant, Mr Uche Anuchukwu, acknowledged receipt of the inquiries made but did not reply.

Enugu state’s Environment and Mineral Resources commissioner, Mr Chijioke Edeoga denied knowledge of any challenges posed by abandoned mines in his state. He maintains that his office has never received an official complaint about the matter. 

“I am not aware. There is no official complaint from these communities to my office. “The state government cannot be blamed, as the mining sector is under the federal government. They (federal government) should be the one to put things in order.” 

 

Abandoned mining pits on farmland near a stream in the Sabon Barki area of Plateau State

The federal government is undertaking some interventions to mitigate the impacts of abandoned mines in Enugu State as part of the Nigeria Erosion and Watershed Management Project (NEWMAP), but experts say that an expansive and thorough environmental audit needs to be conducted across the entire mining corridor in Enugu to inform strategies for long-term, sustainable solutions. 

“Any palliative or reclamation done without a comprehensive environmental audit to ascertain the level of devastation and the funding required to remedy it is unlikely to be a sustainable solution,” says Nwafor. “It is superficial and amounts to poor utilization of funds.”

Residents consider the government’s efforts to be merely cosmetic. A resident of Enugu- Ngwo, who identified himself as Chinedu acknowledged the efforts but said more funding and commitment are needed given the number of affected sites. 

Nigeria’s Small-Scale Mines Leaves A Legacy Of Ruin In Ebonyi, Enugu, Plateau, Nasarawa, Others

Nigeria also has many artisanal and small-scale mines that provide a livelihood for thousands of people, most of them mining gold, gemstones, and cassiterite (a tin oxide mineral). This segment of the extractives industry employs an estimated 400,000 and 500,000 people and currently accounts for more than 90% of solid mineral extraction in the country.

However, this activity is poorly regulated by the government. Most miners operate outside the formal regulatory regime, without licenses or permits.  As a result, communities suffer from environmental degradation and negative health consequences. These mining sites are rarely properly closed or remediated, creating hazards for communities long after miners have moved on. 

In Ebonyi state, the landscape is punctuated with pockets of abandoned mining pits. Two kids while away time in one of them near the town of Ihotor-Ameka, singing as they run in circles and then collapse on a heap on the muddy soil, giggling.

Okeh Gloria, a resident, recalls the day in 2019 when her third child, 2-year-old Sylvanus, was in pain and fighting for his life. His eyes had rolled back in his head, his mouth closed. His muscles tightened and he struggled to breathe. Gloria and her husband were distraught.

Jittery, Gloria squeezed his jaws open and poured palm oil down his throat. She had seen many others in the community use this remedy and thought it might help. But Sylvanus’s condition only worsened. 

“I cried and prayed when I saw him convulsing. I could not believe what I was seeing,” says Gloria. Sylvanus was later rushed to hospital, where he stayed for six days before he regained consciousness and began his journey to recovery. The family had to pay N50,000 for his treatment.

The couple suspected heavy metal poisoning as the cause of their child’s sickness. Ihotor-Ameka has huge deposits of minerals, notably lead and zinc, and is littered with mining pits from both abandoned and active artisanal and small-scale mines. 

When the pits are flooded after heavy rains, the miners pump the water into the surrounding environment, including rivers and streams. The risk of water and soil pollution with heavy metals is high. 

“Although we could not explain it, we knew the reason for his ailment cannot be dissociated from our environment,” Gloria says. Several weeks after her son became sick, other residents began to show similar symptoms. 

“My neighbour’s son was sick and convulsing,” she says. “Two days later, he died. He was only 3 years old.”  

Water samples collected from the area and tested at the Institute for Agricultural Research, Zaria and the National Research Institute for Chemical Technology (NARICT) had a lead (Pb) concentration of nearly 408 parts per million (ppm); for reference, a U.S Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) rule requires systems to monitor drinking water if lead concentrations exceed 0.015ppm. 

Heavy metals can harm the body even in small doses. Lead exposure can be especially dangerous for children, causing damage to the brain and nervous system, stunted growth and development, behavioural and learning challenges, and hearing and speech problems. Seizures and convulsions are among the more severe neurological symptoms associated with lead overexposure. 

Diagnostic capacity is a challenge in Nigeria, including testing for heavy metal poisoning. People come down with strange illnesses that often are left undiagnosed, even after evaluations by experienced physicians. 

But this is not news. In 2010, the World Health Organization (WHO) reported a high incidence of convulsions and death in young children due to lead poisoning in five mining villages in Zamfara State. The number of children affected continues to grow

Many blame the informal and unregulated activities of artisanal and small-scale miners (ASM) who make up 85 per cent of miners in Nigeria’s extractive industry according to the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS). Artisanal and small-scale mining differs from medium and large-scale mining. There is limited available information on production, revenues, operations, and location of their activities.

“The havoc that these artisanal and small-scale miners cause is often overlooked because they don’t necessarily carry heavy machinery to the site,” says David Bade, a farmer whose land is threatened by abandoned mining pits in Yelwa community, Kokona LGA, Nasarawa State.

“They came in droves, took over our farmlands and started digging for tourmaline, a gemstone,” he adds. “Several months later, they vacated the site and moved elsewhere.”

Bade says he has noticed a sharp decrease in his harvest because his farmland is no longer fertile. As lead deposits are common in the area, it is also possible that the miners may have kicked up lead-contaminated soil and dust in their search for gemstones. 

“Before, I used to harvest up to 300 bags of maize; now I rarely get up to half of that. I have also been attacked by snakes and other reptiles that hide in the holes. I have lost two of my dogs to snake attacks.”

This is not unexpected, says Ibrahim Yahaya, an official of Nasarawa State Ministry of Environment and Natural Resources. “Mining can severely alter the soil and reduce its fertility. When miners dig into the earth for these minerals, they inadvertently dump the excavated materials on the topsoil. This is called over-burden and it makes it more difficult for crops to access nutrients,” he says.

Soil samples collected from Bade’s farmland and tested at the Institute for Agricultural Research and the National Research Institute for Chemical Technology showed levels of metals that are poisonous to plants, including 1,350 ppm of copper. According to the U.S. EPA, normal soil has a copper content of 1 to 200 ppm. The concentration of zinc in the soil was 2,090 ppm, also much higher than normal levels. The concentration of lead was 1,560 ppm; the EPA recommends avoiding growing vegetables in soil with lead concentrations of more than 400 ppm.

How large companies enable informal mining 

Artisanal and small-scale miners operate as part of a broader mining ecosystem in Nigeria. With limited access to capital, they are often financed by sponsoring companies that take a large cut of their profits. The sponsors have mastered the art of profiteering from Nigeria’s weak mining regulations and enforcement. In the states visited, the number of artisanal and small-scale miners continues to grow due to the availability of a ready buyer.  

Some larger mining companies have reportedly given artisanal miners access to concessions that they are not actively mining. A Nigerian Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (NEITI) audit report covering activities in the extractive sector from 2007 to 2010 found that only 30 per cent of the companies holding mining titles were engaged in active quarrying, mining, and exploration.  

In Ebonyi State, most big mining companies with or without licenses grant access to their mining site to artisanal miners, often members of the local community. The company pays a negotiated fee to the landowner and local authorities but retains exclusive rights to the mined commodity. One source noted that many of these companies are Chinese. 

“They send scouts to the community to negotiate with individual landowners who believe they have mineral resources underneath their properties. Afterwards, they agree on fees to be paid to the landowner and local authorities in the area, often the traditional heads,” says Chikezie, a miner in Ameka.

The government has signalled intentions to formalize the sector, improve revenue collection, and increase the contribution of solid minerals to the country’s gross domestic product (GDP). But progress has been slow and uneven, complicated by a lack of geological information and limited government capacity. Mine closure and remediation do not appear to have featured heavily in discussions about formalization. 

One small-scale granite miner in Umuogharu, Ezza North Local Government Area of Ebonyi State, who declined to give her name for security reasons, said the state government is aware of their informal mining activities.

“We pay the necessary levies and go about our activities,” she says, adding that discussions on abandoned mines and proper mining site closure were rare in their interactions with the state government.

In Wamba community, Nasarawa State, large mining corporations and the locals agreed on a sharing formula for the proceeds from mining activities.

One of the locals, Kasim Usman said, “When they (mining company) came in 2019, we agreed that a certain percentage of the mineral resources mined would be given to the community. One-third is paid to the local government as royalty, one-third is paid to the owner of the land owner where the resources were mined, and one-third is paid to the community.”

Neither the mining companies nor the artisanal miners take responsibility for the proper closure and reclamation of mining sites. They simply move on to another location.  The exploitative behaviour of these large-scale companies is often the root cause of community corruption and violence, and it results in a massive loss of revenue to the government. In turn, poor revenue from the sector makes budgetary allocations and funding for the reclamation of abandoned mines difficult for the government.

Lives lost, livelihoods affected in Plateau, Nasarawa, others

In Plateau state, years of complaints by mining communities about the wreckage caused by abandoned mining pits have fallen on deaf ears. Belied by its beautiful scenery, abandoned mining pits in Jos city are now potential death traps for residents of the area.

Tin was discovered in Jos plateau at the turn of the 20th century and colonial mining began soon thereafter. These tin mines were largely abandoned following the 1972 nationalization policy, which broke the monopoly of foreign interests, particularly of British firms. Decades later, tin mining communities are still struggling with the negative effects of mining on human health and the environment. 

Today, informal artisanal and small-scale miners operating on meagre profit margins work in these abandoned mines. This carries a unique set of risks and dangers. 

In December 2019, an inactive mining pit in Zawan community, Jos South LGA, collapsed, killing six people who were illegally prospecting for tin and other minerals. Eyewitnesses said that more than 50 people were in the pit before it collapsed. 

In Sabon-Barki, Jos South LGA, residents are fearful when it rains because of how abandoned mining sites channel floodwaters. In April 2021, a 4-year-old girl was swept away after a heavy downpour.

“She was returning from school alongside her brother when the flood carried her from Dadin Kowa to Muchogopyeng,” says Belinda Yusuf, a resident of the area.

In Keffi, Nasarawa state, the Five-Star Mining Company allegedly vacated its mining project without reclamation after an outcry by residents of the area over the incessant blasting of rocks. The abandoned site sits behind Keffi Secondary School.

“Each time they blasted the rocks, strong vibrations reverberated throughout the entire area,” says resident, Garakuwa Zubairu. “Our buildings began to crack from the foundation.” 

He said residents complained to the company and asked them to reduce the blasting activity but to no avail. The company maintained that it was licensed by the federal government to carry out its activities. They brought their complaints to state government authorities, who inspected the site and directed the company to stop work. The company then vacated the site without doing reclamation work. 

Abandoned silver mining pits in Keffi area of Nasarawa State

Checks at the Corporate Affairs Commission (CAC), showed that the company is inactive and was incorporated on January 6, 1993.  The company is headquartered in Calabar with Janet Okok, Effiong Effiong, George Effiong, and Nkoyo Effiong on the board of directors. 

Slow progress on reclamation

Government remediation efforts date back to 1955 when the federal government reclaimed abandoned mining sites managed by Northern Regional Government at the time. The reclamation of several other abandoned sites followed in 1980. 

In 2017, the Ministry of Mines and Steel Development (MMSD), which oversees the solid minerals subsector in Nigeria, said it would spend N1.67tr to reclaim more than 1,600 abandoned mine sites across the country. 

A total of 32 mining sites were reclaimed between 2007 and 2019 for N2.39 billion naira or about N75 million per mine – less than the amount originally projected.  (In 2014, a ministry official named Salim Adebgoyega,  had put the reclamation cost per abandoned mine at N80m to N100m, depending on the size of the site.*

Progress has been much slower than expected. The ministry initially projected that 100 sites would be reclaimed annually between 2007 and 2020. An inventory of abandoned mines and quarries commissioned by the ministry in 2017 to evaluate the environmental and social risks associated with past mining activities is yet to be released officially. The Environmental Protection and Rehabilitation Fund (EPRF) called for in the 2007 Nigeria Mining Act is not fully operational.

The ministry did not respond to a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request submitted on September 29, 2021, asking for specific details about progress on mine remediation and closure – including a list of all abandoned mining sites identified by the ministry, reclaimed abandoned mining sites, the cost of the reclamation of the sites, and the status of the EPRF. The ministry acknowledged receipt of the request and asked for ample time to compile the required information, adding that the process of revalidating abandoned mines and quarries was ongoing.

The federal government has allocated significant funds to the reclamation of abandoned mines but has achieved little in terms of value for money. Analysis of the ministry’s budget showed that at least N2.43bn was spent on activities related to reclamation between 2015 and 2020. A further breakdown revealed that N1.90bn was budgeted for the actual reclamation of an unspecified number of abandoned mines during the same period. In 2018 and 2019, the government spent N78.3m on revalidating abandoned mining sites nationwide and a whooping N463m on logistics support for a special mines’ surveillance task force in 2020.

One of the reclaimed sites in Barkin Ladi area of Plateau state is still prone to flooding and ecological problems years after the purported reclamation in 2017. Residents who spoke with this newspaper were critical of the work done.

“We cannot farm on these sites. The land is not fertile. No bioremediation was carried out,” says Dafum Chung, a resident. “They just came to sand-fill the site and went away. Although the gully erosion subsided, the problem of flooding is still persistent.” 

He adds: “I used to farm close to my house until flooding and erosion caused by mining destroyed my farmland. Although I have relocated to another area to continue my farming, my friends who still farm there are always complaining of poor harvest.”

The Ministry of Mines and Steel Development acknowledged receipt of a FOIA request for procurement records, including budgetary allocations and lists of contractors engaged but the request was not fulfilled by publication time.

Can communities sue?

Nigeria has a federal system of governance but states have limited power. Mining is on the exclusive legislation list – a list of issues over which the federal government has exclusive legislative powers. This means states cannot advance their legislation governing mining-related issues, including mine closure. State governments cannot enforce federal legislation.   

“You really cannot blame the state governments,” says Abiodun Baiyewu, Nigeria’s country director at Global Rights. “The federal government is quick to remind you that the benefits of the minerals primarily belong to the commonwealth at the federal level. It was not until 2017 that benefits started to trickle down to the local communities. Even so, the benefits have been negligible because the government still earns so little from solid minerals due to massive haemorrhages in revenue.”

However, one potential avenue for states to regulate their mining sectors remains unexplored. Section 19 of the Mineral and Mining Act of 2007 provides for a state-level governance apparatus for mining, known as Mineral Resources and Environmental Committee (MIREMCO). To date, this apparatus is yet to be fully explored. 

Communities that have been negatively impacted by abandoned mines have limited avenues for recourse, including through national legal systems. Chinedu Bassey, a program manager at the Civil Society Legislative Advocacy Centre, argues that several international human rights instruments to which Nigeria is a signatory are yet to be properly legislated in the country. These include the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs). Ten years after endorsing them, Nigeria is yet to develop a national action plan to implement the principles, which allow aggrieved communities to seek redress in court. 

Hamzat Lawal, chief executive of Connected Development (CODE), a nongovernmental organization that works to empower marginalized communities in Nigeria, says the real question is whether the Nigerian justice system is reliable. “If we’re being realistic, these communities do not have the resources to pursue a case against the government, and while that reflects the weakness of our judicial institution, it also shows the extent of the failure of leadership in the country,” he says. 

Regardless of the challenges, human rights lawyer and activist Inibehe Effiong believes that mining communities can sue the government or businesses if they can provide evidence and proof beyond a reasonable doubt of their culpability.

Effiong is right. There are quite a few justiciable clauses to rely upon. Beyond the Mineral and Mining Act of 2007, Section 17 (2d) of Nigeria’s constitution states that a community’s natural resources must not be exploited except for the good of the community. 

A tin miner at an artisanal mine in the Wamba area of Nasarawa State

Some international avenues are also available, particularly if a multinational mining company has violated the rights of communities through inadequate mine closure. For instance, communities could file a grievance with the National Contact Points (NCPs) that are responsible for business conduct in the company’s home country or they could request a UN Special Rapporteur investigation. 

These avenues are rarely explored, however, due to a lack of information and low literacy levels among residents of these communities.  Communities can only seek redress if they are aware of their rights and are empowered with the information, they need to demand justice, accountability and transparency from government entities and other stakeholders in the extractive industries.

For this to happen, knowledge and participatory dialogue platforms are important, says Baiyewu.

 “Let’s start with providing a basic knowledge of what mining entails, the likely impacts, and the rights of mining host communities,” she says. “Mining host communities need to access information on how to air their grievances, and ensure ease of access to the relevant agencies of government.”

Lawal has a similar view. Rather than sue the government, he says, leaders of mining communities would do better to learn how to engage the government as partners.

“It’s the first step in the right direction, and it disarms a government that is quick to defend itself against its own citizens.”

This report was supported by Result for Development (R4D) under its Leveraging Transparency to Reduce Corruption (LTRC) project. 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Olajide Adelana is an investigative writer and editor who is passionate about advancing accountability and transparency in the service of social justice. He recently served as a field communications officer for the United Nations Office for Project Services, where he focused on water supply and sanitation issues.

All Photos are by Nelson Owoicho.

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In this report, Arinze Chijioke takes a look at how skyrocketing prices of cooking Gas is increasing the dependence on firewood, leading to deforestation.

This January, Chinasa Sunday wheeled logs of wood into her family compound in Isiagu, one of the communities in Enugu State. As soon as she got home and unpacked the wood, she called a young man who would always help her break them into smaller sizes to make it easier for her to prepare meals.

Weeks earlier, she had gone to farmland, just behind her family house, where she cut down tree branches, brought them home and packed them on a spot close to the kitchen.

On days when she cannot go in search of firewood, she buys from those who sell.

“I don’t want to run out of firewood,” she said. “When it begins to go down, I quickly find where to fetch more”.

Logs of wood at Helen Onu’s compound

Sunday and her family are just one out of millions of Nigerians who have returned to the use of fuelwood for domestic cooking following the consistent increase in cooking gas prices, a development which is increasing the deforestation rate linked to erosion, drought, flooding and desertification.

What NBS data says

Available data from the National Bureau of Statistics shows that the average retail price for refilling a 5kg Cylinder of Cooking Gas increased by 4.25% on a month-on-month basis from N4,218.38 recorded in June 2022 to N4,397.68 in July 2022. On a year-on-year basis, the price rose by 105.35% from N2,141.59 in July 2021.

On state profile analysis, Adamawa recorded the highest average price for refilling a 5kg Cylinder of Cooking Gas with N4,966.67, followed by Plateau with N4,650.00, followed by Kwara and Gombe with N4,625.00 each. On the other hand, Kano recorded the lowest price with N3,981.25, followed by Yobe and Bauchi with N4,000.00 and N4,071.03 respectively.

The NBC data also shows that the average retail price for refilling a 12.5kg Cylinder of Liquefied Petroleum Gas (Cooking Gas) increased by 3.56% on a month-on-month basis from N9,485.91 in June 2022 to N9,824.07 in July 2022. On a year-on-year basis, this rose by 122.15% from N4,422.32 in July 2021.

On state profile analysis, Ebonyi recorded the highest average retail price for the refilling of a 12.5kg Cylinder of Cooking Gas with N11,212.50, followed by Delta with N10,926.92 and Ekiti with N10,883.67.  Conversely, the lowest average price was recorded in Katsina at N8,355.71, followed by Yobe and Kano with N8,383.31 and N8,614.29 respectively.

Before the increases, Sunday was alternating between gas and fuelwood. But now, she only brings out her gas cylinder when she feels a need to clean up, after which she takes it back into her room where it has been for the past year.

“I was not buying much when the price was low,” she said. “Now that it has gone up, I don’t know why I should buy it when I can easily get firewood and cook whatever meal I want”.

Gas cylinder

She knows too well about the health implications of cooking with firewood. But she cannot stop depending on it.

Firewood and increasing deforestation 

The use of open fires and solid fuels for cooking remains one of the world’s most pressing health and environmental problems, directly impacting close to half the world’s population and causing nearly four million premature deaths each year, according to data from the Global Alliance for Clean Cookstoves, a public-private partnership that seeks to promote clean and efficient household cooking solutions.

A 2014 study on domestic energy usage patterns of households in selected urban and rural communities of Enugu State also estimates that Nigeria consumes over 50 million metric tons of firewood annually, a rate which exceeds afforestation efforts.

Logs of wood loaded into a truck in Enugu

This is even as Revised deforestation figures from the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) show that Nigeria had the world’s highest deforestation rate of primary forests in 2005.

Between 2000 and 2005, Nigeria lost as much as 55.7 per cent of its primary forests — defined as forests with no visible signs of past or present human activities, with the collection of fuelwoods cited as one of the leading causes of a forest clearing in the West African country.

In Isiagu, Sunday’s community, fuelwood has become a serious business for many families. While some of them convert tree trunks into charcoal, others break them into smaller sizes which are arranged and sold for N500 and 1,000, depending on the size. A paint bucket of charcoal goes for at least N200.

Health implications

Data from the United Nations on climate change shows that the smoke from cooking fires accounts for eight deaths every minute globally, impacting mostly women and children.

In Nigeria- and other developing countries- health problems arising from smoke inhalation, including respiratory infections, eye damage, heart and lung disease, and lung cancer, have been discovered to be responsible for many premature and preventable deaths annually.

Reports by the World Health Organization and the International Centre for Energy, Environment and Development (ICEED), estimate that as many as  95,000 Nigerians die annually as a result of smoke inhaled while cooking with firewood.

Smoke inhaled while cooking with firewood has also been proven to be the fourth leading cause of death in the world after heart and lung disease, and respiratory infection, with women and children under five worst hit. The WHO report shows that if a woman inhales smoke while cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner, it is equivalent to smoking between three and 20 packets of cigarettes a day.

Dr Nnaji Chibueze of the Centre for Energy Research and Development at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka says that biomass fuel use has been found to be associated with cataracts, low birth weight in babies of exposed expectant mothers and women who trek up to 7-9 kilometres to source for plenty of firewood, thereby increasing their stress levels in doing other house chores.

Dependence on imported gas reason for steady rise

Despite sitting on a huge resource base of gas, currently hovering around 206 trillion standard cubic feet, Nigeria depends on the US and other African countries such as Algeria and Equatorial Guinea for the importation of Liquefied Petroleum Gas (LPG).

The rate keeps soaring because it is determined by the fluctuations in the dollar to naira rate. This means that the more the naira is devalued, the higher the prices will be.

A tipper conveys logs of wood in a community in Enugu

In September 2021, Executive Secretary, Petroleum Products Pricing Regulatory Agency (PPPRA), Abdulkadir Saidu, disclosed in a report that 85, 264.803 metric tonnes of cooking gas were supplied across the country in August 2021.

Of this volume, as much as 47,224.346 MT was imported while about 38,040.457 MT was sourced locally. This means that 55.39 per cent of the LPG consumed in the country was imported, leaving 44.61 per cent for local producers.

The report further showed that 21,606.301 MT was imported from the USA, while 13,044.266 was imported from Algeria and 12,573.779 MT was brought into the country from Equatorial Guinea.

While deficits in terms of infrastructure have kept production at a low level, economic indexes, especially high inflation, naira devaluation and unsteady exchange rate continue to send the prices of cooking above the reach of the poor who live on less than one dollar a day.

Like the PPPRA, the Nigerian Association of Liquefied Petroleum Gas Marketers (NALPGAM), in October 2021, attributed the rise in the price of LPG to inadequate supply of the product into the domestic market and the Federal Government’s re-imposition of Value Added Tax (VAT) on imported LPG.

NALPGAM’s Executive Secretary, Bassey Essien, in an interview in Lagos, said that the supply of LPG had fallen below the demand, adding that the current consumption level is over 1,000,000 metric tons, but that the quantity available locally is in the range of 450,000M

“The first issue to address is how we can ensure there is constant availability of cooking gas in the country,” Essien said.  “The cumulative domestic supply accounted for 40 per cent while the balance 60 per cent was imported”.

He also noted that the proposed reintroduction of VAT at 7.5 per cent and customs duties applicable, which are to be applied retrospectively, would worsen the price.

Nigeria’s increasing gas reserves: Where’s the impact?

At the Nigeria International Petroleum Summit which was held In June 2021 in Abuja, the Department of Petroleum Resources (DPR) said that the Proven gas deposits in Nigeria have moved up 206.53 trillion cubic feet.

Director of DPR, Auwalu Sarki disclosed that indigenous oil and gas companies are now contributing as much as 33 per cent to the nation’s crude oil reserves and about 30 per cent of gas reserves.

In Isiagu, a log of wood goes for between N500 and N1000

While the company’s contribution to the reserves was less than 10 million barrels in 2005, it has grown significantly to about 62 million barrels in 2020.

Speaking on the gas reserves, Auwalu attributed the growth to recent efforts being made on gas exploration in the country, especially the “Decade of Gas Initiative’.

The Nigerian government had in 2020, put Nigeria’s total gas reserves at 203.16 trillion cubic feet (TCF), representing a marginal increase of 1.16tcf or 0.57 per cent from the 202tcf recorded in 2019. The recent increase implies growth of over 3 trillion.

“Nigeria attained the target of 200tcf of natural gas reserves by the Reserve Declaration as of Jan.1, 2019, before the 2020 target,”. “Thereafter, the government set a target to attain a Reserve Position of 2020tcf by 2030,” Auwalu said.

He noted that independent companies are driving value addition to gas, adding that the acquisition of divested assets, as well as accelerated appraisal and development efforts, are other driving factors.

To him, the country is already gaining from the deliberate national efforts to boost indigenous participation in the sector.

The question, however, remains what the impact on the average consumer is. As many Nigerians have argued, the reserves must translate to more availability at affordable prices.

Like Sunday, Others do not care about health implications

Before the price of cooking gas went up, Helen Onu was using fuelwood to prepare meals. Although the heat coming out from her three-stoned open cooking fire usually leaves her wheezing badly from firewood smoke, Onu does not care.

She has a gas cylinder she fills from time to time. But after she heard that the price of gas had increased, she decided to completely depend on fuelwood for her daily cooking.

She knows too well about the many health implications inherent in cooking with fuelwood. But she cannot stop using it for her cooking.

Logs of wood arranged for sell in Enugu

To deal with the stress of having to trek long distances in search of fuelwood, however, she gets in touch with motorcycle owners and commercial bus drivers who help her buy in large quantities and bring them to her house.

Now she has a location close to her kitchen where she packs her logs of wood covered with sacks to prevent rain from beating them.

“When I buy it in large quantity, it takes months before it finishes”, she said, pointing in the direction where she arranges her fuelwood. “I hardly run out of it”.

Increasing global warming and the UN warning

Beyond its health implications, when fossil fuels are burned for energy, they release huge amounts of carbon dioxide into the air, thereby intensifying the greenhouse effect.   According to 2013 figures from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, deforestation contributes up to 10% of the carbon dioxide emissions caused by human activity.

The United Nations on Tuesday, October 19, 2021, warned that more than 100 million “extremely poor” people across Africa were threatened by accelerating climate change that could also melt away the continent’s few glaciers within two decades.

In the report, it was estimated that “by 2030, up to 118 million extremely poor people will be exposed to drought, floods and extreme heat in Africa, if adequate response measures are not put in place”

Commissioner for rural economy and agriculture at the African Union Commission, Josefa Leonel Correia Sacko, said that in sub-Saharan Africa, climate change could further lower gross domestic product by up to 3 per cent by 2050.

“Not only are physical conditions getting worse, but also the number of people being affected is increasing,” she said in the report’s foreword.

Nigerian government pledges reduction of LPG price

In January 2022, the Nigerian government announced that it was ramping up measures to ensure a drastic reduction in the cost of cooking gas.

General Manager, external relations and sustainable development for the Nigeria Liquefied Natural Gas (NLNG), Andy Odeh, in a statement said the company would supply 100 per cent of its liquefied petroleum gas (LPG) to the Nigerian market.

Logs of woods in a community in Enugu

Odeh was quoted as saying that the NLNG had developed a scheme to sustainably supply propane for usage in cooking gas blending as well as in Agro Allied, Autogas, power and petrochemical sectors of the Nigerian economy.

Chibueze says that the government must improve access to cheaper alternative energy sources for cooking if the challenge of over-dependence on fuelwood must be addressed.

“Availability of woodlots and access to alternative, affordable, renewable energy systems would reduce the pressure on the forests and the amount of time and efforts women devote to obtaining fuel wood,” he said.

Countries commit to reversing deforestation

At the COP26 climate talks in Glasgow, more than 100 countries pledged to halt and reverse forest loss and land degradation by the end of 2030. A joint statement backed by the leaders of countries including Brazil, Russia, Indonesia and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, which collectively account for 85 per cent of the world’s forests, shows that the pledge is underpinned by $19bn in public and private funds to invest in protecting and restoring forests.

According to a statement from the British prime minister’s office on behalf of the leaders, the Declaration on Forest and Land Use are expected to cover forests totalling more than 33 million square kilometres (13 million square miles).

While calling it an unprecedented agreement, Boris Johnson, who was the PM at the time said “We will have a chance to end humanity’s long history as nature’s conqueror, and instead become its custodian”.

As rousing and assuring as this may be, for many Nigerians, however, far-reaching concrete action will be needed to get them on board.

 

 

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In this report, Arinze Chijioke tells the story of how communities in Rivers and Bayelsa States are benefitting from the federal government’s solar power projects under the Nigerian electrification programme.

Prior to 2020, residents of Oloibiri, one of the communities in Ogbia local government area of Bayelsa State – where oil was first discovered- depended on a generator that was donated by an illustrious son of the community for power.

While the donation brought relief to them after they had spent over 15 years without any form of power, their joy was incomplete, because the men paid N2000 and the women N500 monthly for diesel and they hardly had enough supply. It only lasted for 12 hours, from 6 pm to 6 am.

Renewvia energy solar system in Oloibiri
Renewvia energy solar system in Oloibiri

“We felt It was a burden to us because even after donating, we only enjoy power at night to conserve diesel,” Asa Asa a member of the community said.

The only time the generator works all day and night is whenever there is a wedding or burial ceremony which often lasted for one week. Those celebrating had to provide enough diesel.

Soon, community members stopped contributing diesel and the generator was abandoned. The community was engulfed in perpetual darkness, except for families who had their personal generators.

In 2020 however, the narrative changed after a solar hybrid mini-grids with a capacity of 67.32KW was installed in the community by Renewvia  Energy Corporation under the Nigerian electrification project, (NEP).

The goal was to provide clean, safe, and affordable electricity to residents of the community who had been unconnected to the national electricity grid as well as Increase business productivity by replacing generators, lanterns and candles with reliable electricity.

Renewvia energy’ Country Manager for West Africa, Chris Ebiware said that the company did a feasibility study of 25 communities in 4 states, including Bayelsa in 2016.

He noted that it was during the site identification that the company came across Oloibiri and discovered that the community had been without reliable power since its inception.

“So, with cooperation from the community we built our first mini-grid here,” he said. “Construction started in 2019 and the system was turned on in February of 2020,” he said, adding that the company also did the test run in the same year”.

The Nigerian electrification project (NEP)

In 2018, the federal government designed a scheme known as the Nigerian electrification project- to increase access to electricity, through renewable power sources, for households, public educational institutions and businesses that are not connected to the national electricity grid.

To support the implementation of the NEP, the Nigerian government, through the Rural Electrification Agency, REA- the implementing agency, secured financing from both the World Bank ($350m) and the African Development Bank ($200m).

Among the programmes implemented under the NEP is the Solar Hybrid Mini Grids Component which aims to support the development of private sector mini-grids in unserved areas across Nigeria with a target to electrify 300,000 households and 30,000 local enterprises.

Under the Solar Hybrid Mini Grids Component,  there was the Performance-Based Grant (PBG) sub-component which had a total available fund of US$48 million disbursed to qualified mini-grid developers/firms on a first come first served basis, up until the available funds are exhausted.

Oloibiri was one of the communities that benefitted from the PBG which was expected to connect an estimated 364 households while developing the infrastructure, creating jobs in both the construction phase and permanent jobs.

According to REA, Renewvia Energy Corporation, like other companies handling the various components went through the four-phase of the application and approval processes of the PBG programme, including the qualification stage, site-specific technical application stage, grant agreement signing and the verification and disbursement. 

Two years down the line, residents of Oloibiri cannot have enough of the solar system. The supply is 24 hours. The company had provided metres for households who have to always recharge to get power.

From welding to dry cleaning and other businesses, the project has made Oloibiri a beehive of activities. Nobody talks about the community generator anymore. Asa had to sell his personal generator because he did not have a need for it anymore. Every month, he spends between N2000 and N3000 on recharging his metre.

“I have been enjoying the light ever since it came,” Asa said. “I wish the government can extend the same project to other communities in order to tackle the challenge of poor electricity supply”.

The solar system particularly excites Anthonia Deezua who owns a provision store in the community where she sells cold beverages. Now, she makes more profits than when she used her generator.

“Every day, workers and students come to ask me to help them look for accommodation and that means more people patronising my business,” said Deezua. “Formally, I was using a generator for business. But the noise was unbearable, and I did not always have it on because fuel was expensive”.

While business owners such as Deezua spend as much as N4000 monthly, others recharge their metres with as little as N300 and N500 which often lasts between three days and one week.

The Oloibiri site manager for Renewvia Energy, Azibasamari Amadi said that the number of days each subscription lasts depends on the consumption levels of the households.

He explained that after the project was commissioned, the company organised sensitisation workshops for community members on how to conserve energy such as switching off their electrical appliances, including fridges, fans, air conditioners and bulbs when they don’t have a need for them.

On how users pay, he said that the company entered a partnership with Paga, a mobile payment company which enables people to digitally send and receive money.

“Paga has an application that allows users to pay for power by selecting the company name and inputting their metre number and the amount they want to subscribe after which they send and have light “he explained.

Challenges within…

Although the solar system in Oloibiri has been effective, Amadi said that electricity theft and low rate of subscription by some community members disrupt their services. He explained that on several occasions, community members who do not want to pay have tried to bypass the system.

“Our system is smart enough that whenever it notices such moves, it shut down,”Amadi said. “Also, when there is a line bridge or a burnt metre, the system shuts down instead of allowing things to develop a fault,”

He explained that whenever such situations arise, he quickly informs other members of his team and together, they try to find out what the problem is, adding that they also inform members of the community, via WhatsApp whenever they want to embark on maintenance.

Whenever the sun does not produce much energy to power the systems, he switches over to their generator which serves as a backup system.  He however noted that recently, they had a delay in the delivery of diesel, because of the poor returns and hike in the price of diesel and because of that, there were disruptions at night.

“Sometimes, our expenditure is higher than what comes in because there are those who cannot afford to always subscribe and even when they do, it’s poor,” he explained. “Sometimes, when we have the money, diesel is not readily available for us to buy,”

Renewvia energy solar system in Akipelai
A mini-grid solar system in Akipelai

In Akipelai, breach of agreement scuttle solar system

With the PBG, Renewvia Energy Corporation also installed a solar system in Akipelai, another community in Ogbia LG.  Like the project in Olobiri, that of Akipelai which also had a capacity of 67.32KW provided sustainable power to the people.

But it did not last long after Renewvia shut down its operation in December 2021, following the decision by members of the community to renege on an agreement they had with the company at the inception of the project.

Chairman of Akipelai Community Development Committee, Davidson Omonkori said that the company had an agreement with the community to provide it with 24 hours power supply for 20 years. The said agreement was okayed by the National Electricity Regulatory Commission, NERC.

Omonkori explained that households subscribed to the system after it was installed but stopped after the Nigerian Agip Oil Company started supplying diesel to enable the community to power its generator.

Agip had in 2014, donated a generator to Akipelai which is one of its host communities. However, its supply of diesel was inconsistent. Sometimes, community members had to wait for three months before the 500KVA generator comes on and that led to the wide acceptance of the solar system.

“But recently, they started supplying diesel frequently and our people stopped subscribing to the solar system,” Omonkori said.

Omokori noted that leaders of the community had suggested to Renewvia energy that they should have the generator at night-since they cannot reject the free diesel- while the solar system runs during the day, but the company said it was not part of their agreement.

“When they came, we offered to pay 400,000 because we felt it was going to be a post-paid system where we will pay at the end of the month, but they said it is prepaid and you pay as you use”.

He explained that they had also met with Agip and suggested that rather than provide diesel to power the generator which only lasts for 12 hours daily, they should pay directly to Renewvia Energy so they can provide 24 hours power supply to the community. But the company was yet to respond.

Akipelai site manager for Renewvia Energy, Kingsley Nestor, said that the company was beginning to run at a loss, hence the decision to shut down the operation. He said that the company needs funds to pay staff salaries and maintain the system for it to be sustainable.

While Omokori said that leaders of the community had agreed to allow Agip to pay for the system, Nestor alleged that some of them have severally refused to accept the suggestion because they sell some litres out of the over 14,000 litres they get monthly and keep the money.

Nigeria and commitment to energy transition

At the Climate Change Conference (COP 26) in Glasgow, Nigeria’s president, Muhammadu Buhari pledged that the country will cut its carbon emissions and reach net zero by 2060.

While the target lags 10 years behind the recommended deadline which the UN along with many climate scientists would like to achieve to stop global warming, Nigeria’s commitment to energy transition is clearly visible within the government’s project, which aims to electrify 5 million households and 25 million people with solar energy.

Chief Executive Officer, Renewvia, Trey Jarrad, said that the impact of the solar projects extends beyond providing access to cleaner, reliable, and affordable energy, to helping Nigeria actualise her global energy transition mandate.

Like Nigeria, other countries are looking to invest in renewable energy which could supply four-fifths of the world’s electricity by 2050, massively cutting carbon emissions and helping to mitigate climate change.

In Egbeke, residents can finally heave a sigh of relief

After Green Village Electricity implemented a 6.8kw PV solar-based pilot project which according to the company was aimed at field testing the technical and commercial viability of adopting renewable energy for off-grid rural electrification in Egbeke, one of the communities in Rivers State in 2012, it was not serving the entire five villages that together make up the community, the people stated.

Community members could not use it to pump water, power their fridges or use electric iron. It only worked during the day and powered streetlights. At night, it always went off.

Among the villages that were completely cut off from power was Umuode which owned the land where the solar power was installed. Umuagwu, the village whose people were said to have had first contact with the company decided who to give light and who not to give. There were no metres.

“Because of that, many of us did not have access to power, except those who wanted to do the illegal connection,” Chucks Nkwo, a leader in Umuode told The ICIR, “Irked by the perceived marginalisation, our people protested and shut down the site”.

Six years later, in 2018, the company came back, after it received the PBG under the FG’s NEP and upgraded the project, moving it from the site where it was before to the community’s market square where there is enough land to accommodate the upgrading. It provided Egbeke with a 55KW minigrid.

Now, residents in the five villages, including UmuagwuUmuode, Umuayim, Umuokwu and Umuoko have a power supply that they use for all kinds of businesses. Households were provided with metres which they always recharged.

Egbeke solar system
Egbeke solar system

Allegations of corruption

Years after the solar project was upgraded, residents of Egbeke have not had any challenge with the usage apart from allegations that Egbeke site manager for Green Village Electricity, Amadi Evans has not been transparent in his duties.

According to Nkwo, Evans who handles the subscription for customers always gives different megawatts for the same amount. He alleged that one of the times he recharged N3000, he got 330 megawatts instead of the usual 440.

“After it finished, I complained to him and the next time, he made it 440 megawatts,” Nkwo said, adding that sometimes, it appears the power they get is not commensurate with the amount we pay.

He regretted that while other communities who have benefitted from solar systems pay as little as N200, Umuode and other communities in Egbeke pay a minimum of N1000.

“We have complained to the site manager who said he has told the company, but nothing has been done, “We bear it because we get constant supply”.

When confronted with the allegations, Evans confirmed that the tariff stopped at N1000, adding that community members have complained about the rate which they described as outrageous.

While denying that he had anything to do with the rate, he said complained to the company management who said they will have to discuss with the NERC and other stakeholders involved before taking any decision on cost reduction.

“They promised that they will look into the complaints with time, “he said, adding that the company also felt it was best to keep the money at N1000 so that people don’t always complain that their power ends quickly”.

While community members complain about the cost of power in Egbeke, they say it is better than any other power source.  Ikechi Jim who owns a provision store said that although he spends N6000 every week, he prefers the solar system because it is always available except when the money finishes and you must recharge again.

“If you are using a generator, and It gets spoilt, you have to go and repair and that affects your business, “he said. “Sometimes, those who are connected to the power grid go for weeks and months without supply,”.

Where the problem often lies, an expert’s point of view

While the solar projects are providing sustainable energy in benefitting communities, Chief Operating Officer at Manamuz Electric limited, a Nigerian Electrical and Renewable energy company, Chigozie Enemoh, said that some mini-grid projects do not last beyond 1 year after commissioning because companies often fail to do a load and energy analysis of communities and other areas before they deploy solar systems.

He explained that the company must try to understand the load pattern and do an extensive load analysis as well as a futuristic master plan to know what is expected in terms of load demand in the next two or more years.

“The problem we always have is that sometimes when you deploy, you find out that the energy demands outweigh the system that was deployed, “he said. “Once people see light, they tend to buy more appliances, which increases the energy demand and creates problems for the system”.

Additionally, he said that there is usually the challenge of lack of maintenance of solar panels which have the tendency of attracting dust- because they are open-air which reduces their efficiency and output over time.

He explained that some mini-grid developers are only concerned about deploying and commissioning of solar power projects in benefitting communities without embarking on operation and maintenance which is very key to the sustenance of any project.

“After deploying and commissioning, the next stage is the O and M which should last for as long as the project lasts, “he said. “Depending on the capacity of the project, you could schedule maintenance every four or six months”.

He said that mini-grid contracts have operation and maintenance costs and that is where companies are expected to train community members who will maintain the project while they are away and always report back when issues they cannot handle arise.

Story was originally published by the ICIR.

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In keeping with the mission of Eco-Nai+ to report on the impact of climate change on the environment and its implications for livelihood and sustenance, we embarked on a field project to a farm in Nigeria where the impact is a growing concern.

In this report, Ijeoma Ilekanachi shares insightful encounters with farmers who bared their minds on the marked changes the farm has seen owing to climate change impact.  The Eco-Nai+ team embarked on a field tour of Agbeloba farms located in Abeokuta of Ogun State to examine the effects of climate change on agriculture.


A love of farming drawn from heritage, challenged by change 

For Peter Olorunsheyi who grew up in a family of farmers, the idea of cultivating the soil for food is bliss. With the rising sun illuminating the morning sky, he makes his way to the farmland to check on the crops and workers. As a head farmer of Agbeloba farms, he knows the layout of the farm like the back of his palm, and while showing the reporter around, he moves with immense skill.

The 71-year-old regards this passion as a requirement for growth in agriculture. It has long been known that farming requires hard work, grit and commitment for good yield. However, one major setback is that sometimes the maximum effort put in can be hindered by environmental factors like the weather. He describes it as a shift in the normal working of things.

He put it plainly, “All those years ago, it was easy to predict when the rain would fall on crops which would help determine planting time and harvest time. However, now it’s harder to tell; it’s either we have too much rain or not enough rain”.




Agbeloba: A glide through nature’s bosom

The journey to this grassland involved entering the heart of Abeokuta in Ogun state. A small village and narrow bush path greeted the team as they made their way into the entrance of the farm which is marked by a well-constructed fence with the Agbeloba brand. Although the drive there seemed unnerving at first, with narrow bush paths, branches tapping the windows and rustling trees, the feeling later settled with that of marvel at the expanse of land.

Agbeloba derives its name from a Yoruba saying that means “the farmer is king”. The vast 33-acre farmland is home to at least ten crops and different livestock. It started with seven acres and went on to expand, now with customized boundary points to mark ownership. According to Mr Peter, Agbeloba farms were established in 2020, not only with the hope of improving food production but to integrate digital technology into agriculture.

According to the Chief of Operations for Agbeloba.ng, Kolade Yemisi, the platform aims to build a community of agropreneurs who support smallholder farmers to increase crop yield. The business boasts amazing return rates and near-perfect non-default on payments.

Pepper bushes at Agbeloba farm



However, the cost of building such an innovative venture in Nigeria keeps rising, a dampener in this otherwise blissful story of disrupting agriculture. Added to the fact that the dwindling economy of Nigeria is heightening the cost of production, climate change also poses a severe threat to the regular output of farm produce for sale. Some studies have shown that issues like rising temperatures, drought, flooding and more frequent extreme weather events can ultimately hinder food and livestock production.

Feeling the bite of extreme weather conditions 

Speaking on the farm’s experiences with climate change, Mr Peter noted that the increase in temperature and scorching sun are some of the weather conditions that gravely affect the crops. Maize cobs are smaller in size, yams are not as big and other crops take later times to sprout.



With a disappointed nod, Mr Peter points to a yam plant that fell to the ground, stake and all. He explained that the yam is now a very difficult crop to cultivate with the yam farm accounting for only 2 acres on the whole farm.

“Yam is one of the most difficult crops to cultivate. Unlike other crops where you clear, heap and plant, yam requires planting when there’s no rain and mulching (covering the heaps with leaves to prevent decay) to protect it from the scorching sun”

“At their emergence level, you have to lead them to the stake you want them to climb. You find out that some leave the stake you put and start growing elsewhere. This is why monitoring the crops is necessary”

“Although the local programme of planting yam is okay. You are planting maybe around November, or December so that by August, or September you can make your first harvest which is called new yam. That same yam you harvested in August, we reproduce seed again in December. However, when there’s no balance in weather conditions, we can’t get good results.”

Looking on the bright side, he stated that the irrigation systems set on the farm have improved the growth of the yams. Another milestone achieved is that the farm no longer buys the yam seedlings but now produces seedlings even for sale.

Threshed Corn left in the sun to dry



According to the Working Group II Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), crop yield losses even after adaptations are projected to rise rapidly above 2°C global warmings. For food production, climate change impacts include up to a 5.8% mean reduction in maize productivity due to increased temperatures in Sub-Saharan Africa.

o his farmMr Peter corroborated this by saying, “I still want to argue that we cannot compare irrigation with rainfall. The rain will not only water the soil but regulate the temperature of the leaves.”

Pointing to the plantain plantation, Mr Peter revealed them to be giant size and noted that the mode of cultivation involves transplanting an already nursed sucker. This particular plantation is the most viable one on the whole farm with one tree sprouting as many as four different suckers.

“When you transplant the sucker during the rainy season, by the next rainy season between nine months to one year, they should start fruiting”, he said. Although the other plantations such as the cashew and banana looked very young at the time of the visit, he pointed out that they were doing well even though the rains stopped early last year.

Beaming with pride, the head farmer also showed the visitors the new pepper farm planted in early 2022. Both unripe and ripe pepper plants were already showing good signs of development. He recounted an event in a neighbour’s pepper farm which started way before Agbeloba’s but was later destroyed by the sun.

“If you visit that farm now, it has become a wasteland”, he said.

Plantain and Cassava trees inside Agbeloba farm



Fruits and vegetables also known as wild-harvested food plants are vulnerable to current and future climate changes. At Agbeloba, some of the fruits are not for commercial purposes and are mostly inherited from the land. One species of rare tangerine, the tangelo— a hybrid citrus fruit made by crossing a tangerine with a grapefruit— was seen. The snake tomato and walnut is also known as Àsálà in Yoruba were other food plants seen to be growing on the farm.

Rotimi Wilhelm, another trained farmer revealed that the increased temperature was a major factor impacting livestock production. The poultry birds usually suffer from heat stress which in turn affects egg production.

“Usually one chicken can produce one egg a day and we can realise four crates and a half. Even with the right feed, sometimes not all of them lay eggs”, he explained.  “We are hoping to expand and get more males”, Mr Peter added

An unmistakable stench after further trekking revealed that we had reached the piggery; the three females and one male pig strutting in their pens were bought in May. There were more pens than pigs because the animals give birth in the litter. Their dung is deposited in a hole in the soil for organic fertilizer.

Econai+ team with Agbeloba farmers.



“We erected tanks for the pigs for them to drink and also for their baths as a means to combat heat”, we were told.

For the rabbit rearing, Mr Peter narrated that most of these rabbits died due to their fragile nature and were moved out of their houses to somewhere closer to the workers for monitoring.

“We have some of them around the farmhouse to monitor them. Some months ago, we lost some. We are trying to see what went wrong”, he said.

The catfish numbered about 675 excluding the ones already smoked and dried for sale.

A new shift to climate change mitigation

A UN Climate change study states that for global temperatures to stabilise, carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions will need to reach net zero as early as 2050. To achieve this, new renewable energy options and lifestyles must be adopted. For agriculture, farmers have to amend their practices and be prepared for weather changes.

When asked about the interventions used to salvage the climate situation, Mr Peter explained that the irrigation systems and solar panels for electricity were a few of the steps taken already. The solar panels were placed on the roof of the farmhouse.

“It powers our inverter and subsequently, the farm. We also have a three kilowatts generator with a fuel capacity of 25 litres. The 2000 litre tanks are used to take care of our fishes in the pond, for the poultry birds and the pigs”, he stated.

The farm is cleared regularly to enable better practices and to get rid of weeds. “Especially during the rainy season, you’ll see more weeds than crops on the farm, so you have to ensure that these weeds don’t kill the crops”, he said. To prevent ozone layer damage, the farmers try to avoid bush burning as a means to clear the farm of weeds. They have made it a point of duty to educate themselves on the worsening effects of climate change.

Poultry farm inside Agbeloba farms



With planting styles such as transplanting and mulching, the crops can stand a chance against unpredicted change. Crops like cocoa, oil palm and yams have a higher chance of survival. In the aspect of business, the farmers sell raw produce or process other types of food with crops. There’s a garri processing plant, fish smoking machine and corn sheller(removes corn kernels off the cob) for this purpose.

Nigeria has an estimated population of 206.14 million people (2020) with an annual population growth rate of 2.5%. Nigeria’s population is projected to reach 262.9 and 401.3 million people in 2030 and 2050, respectively. With more mouths to feed in the coming years, innovative farming practices are needed to ensure food security.



Rotimi believes that if nothing is done about the emissions and frequent weather changes, agriculture in the whole country will suffer. When asked if the farm will be willing to partner with Eco-Nai+, he was elated about the idea.

“Of course, not just us, other farms suffer from this climate situation. We would want to partner with a platform that helps us track climate change”, he said.

Yemisi equally affirms that partnering with a digital platform like Eco-Nai + to track and report the impact of climate change will foster agricultural growth and food security.

The team was led by Dare Adekoya, Eco-Nai+ Data Analyst, while the audio-visual coverage was done by Oluwatosin Oladimeji, the multimedia lead. 

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