The Extractive Industries and Society 2 (2015) 615–624

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The Extractive Industries and Society

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Environmental degradation and cultural erosion in Ogoniland: A case

study of the oil spills in Bodo
Alicia Fentimana,* , Nenibarini Zabbeyb
a
29 Portugal Place, Cambridge CB5 8AF, UK
b
Department of Fisheries, Faculty of Agriculture, University of Port Harcourt, PMB 5323, East-West Road, Choba, Rivers State, Nigeria

A R T I C L E I N F O A B S T R A C T

Article history: This paper examines the impact of two significant oil spills in the Niger Delta which occurred in 2008. It
Received 22 December 2014 focuses specifically on the Bodo community in Ogoniland. The paper adheres to Ken Saro-Wiwa’s belief
Received in revised form 16 May 2015 that ‘the environment is man’s first right’ and that the environment should be viewed as the foundation
Available online 8 September 2015
and basis for other rights—such as social, political and economic. The environment is thus regarded as
integral to the existence of a community. This novel research sheds light on the impact of the oil spills on
Keywords: the economic, social and cultural institutions through a case study on Bodo. The environmental
Environmental degradation
degradation is clearly visible through the creeks and network of swamps; however, what is ‘less visible’
Cultural human rights
Oil
and equally important is the ‘cultural erosion’ of indigenous institutions. It is argued that the impact of
Bodo the oil spills in 2008 have been so severe that they have not only significantly altered the environmental
Ogoni landscape but they also have the potential to alter the ethnographic landscape of Bodo. In recognition of
Ken Saro-Wiwa, it is argued that the cultural human rights of marginalized and excluded groups, such as
the people of Bodo, must be preserved.
ã 2015 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.

1. Introduction
‘The environment is man’s first right. Without a safe environ-
ment, man cannot exist to claim other rights be they social,
political or economic.’ MOSOP, Ken Saro-Wiwa’s Last Words 2004,
pp. 48–49).
This paper examines the effects of the oil industry on
indigenous practices and cultural human rights through an in
depth case study of the significant impact of two devastating oil
spills in 2008 on the Bodo community in Ogoniland. There is an
extensive literature on Ken Saro-Wiwa’s legacy, which examines
the significant contributions he made to promote the human rights
of marginalized minority groups in Nigeria, especially the Ogoni
people. Through his writing and advocacy he was able to highlight
the plight of the Ogoni people throughout Nigeria and to
international communities about the environmental, economic
and cultural degradation of the Ogoni by the oil industry through a
variety of genres. In his book, Genocide in Nigeria (1992) he shows
that the definition of environment for the Ogoni needs to be seen in
broader, more holistic terms, ‘To the Ogoni, rivers and streams do
not only provide water for life—for bathing and drinking etc; they
do not only provide fish for food, they are sacred and are bound up
* Corresponding author.
intricately with the life of the community, of the entire Ogoni
nation.’ Saro-Wiwa (1992, p. 12). This view is also captured and
illustrated metaphorically in his classic collection of Ogoni folk
tales, The Singing Anthill (Saro-Wiwa, 1991). The folktales
recounted the age-old natural capital and productivity of Ogoni
land. Presenting Kuru, the tortoise, as both hero and buffoon, the
traditional Ogoni stories highlighted bountiful harvest from the
land, forest and water bodies that form the Ogoni landscape.
Poignantly, it shows how Kuru’s wit and cunning trait enabled it to
survive the socio-cultural dynamics of a predominantly fishing,
hunting and farming Ogoni society.
Saro-Wiwa gave a voice to a cause he passionately believed in
and which tragically, took his life. He has left his legacy behind in
Ogoniland, setting up the Ogoni Bill of Rights, creating the
Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People (MOSOP),
advocating on behalf of marginalized minority groups in the Niger
Delta, and putting pressure on the Nigerian government and oil
companies to compensate the people of Ogoniland for the
destruction and devastation of their environment. Saro-Wiwa
also set the precedent for other minority and marginalized groups
to emerge as agents for social justice and recognition: the Ijaw
Youth Council, the Kaiama Declaration of the Ijaw Youth Council
(IYC), and the Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta
(MEND), (see Ukeje (2010) and Obi (2010) for an overview of the
various movements).

http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.exis.2015.05.008
2214-790X/ ã 2015 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.
616 A. Fentiman, N. Zabbey / The Extractive Industries and Society 2 (2015) 615–624
Over the last few decades, there has been a growing literature
and interest on oil in Nigeria. Several studies have looked at the
political economy of oil, the economics of oil and the relationship
between foreign oil companies and the nation state whilst others
wrote about the rise of a Pan-African movement associated with oil
(Apter, 2009). In Behrends et al. (2013), the authors use a different
lens and look at the ‘curse of oil’ through various perspectives with
a series of illuminating case studies. For example, Watts (2008)
illustrates the ‘oil complex’ in his article, ‘the anatomy of a Petro-
Insurgency in the Niger Delta’. Others focus at the grassroots level
and examine the linkages between oil extraction, dispossession
and the escalating violence (Obi, 2010).
The aim of this paper, however, is to look more specifically and
to apply an ethnographic approach to examine the impact of two
major oil spills in 2008 on the local Bodo community and its
culture. It is a novel study because it captures the voices of the local
people and the communities’ perceptions and experiences.
Through their narratives, their personal stories of how the recent
spills affected them are revealed not only individually but also
collectively. The research sheds light on the impact of oil on the
institutions and practices that the Ogoni hold sacred.
Ken Saro-Wiwa died in 1995, and he did not live to see the
continual escalation of the environmental degradation nor the
devastating impact of two major oil spills in Bodo in 2008–2009 on
the Ogoni and their culture. However, he did set the foundation for
scholars to write, publicize and advocate for the rights of the Ogoni
people. He devoted his life to a cause that he was committed. His
final words, ‘nor imprisonment nor death can stop our ultimate
victory’ are a stark reminder of his heroic and stoic nature. Twenty
years on we are indebted to him for devoting his life to campaign
for social justice. This paper is a small contribution to his mission,
and it is dedicated to him.
2. The Bodo community
The translation of Bodo means ‘on the sea’ which is an
extraction from Boodor which means ‘because of the sea’ (Tanen,
Fig. 1. Bodo coastal villages and Dor Bon (1).
2005, p. 1). Bodo occupies the southern coastal extreme of Gokana
Kingdom in Ogoniland, east of the Niger Delta in Nigeria. It is
bounded seaward to the east by Andoni, west by Bolo, and to the
southern end by Bonny and the Atlantic Ocean (Tanen, 2005;
Piegbara and Kedei, 2003; Alawa, 1977).
Bodo is subdivided into 35 villages traditionally administered
by a central council of chiefs with an apex monarch King. In order
to capture the impact of the recent oil spills on the communities
and to gather their perspectives, field research was carried out in
several waterfront villages in Bodo including Tene-ol, Gbea, Tegu,
Kolgba, Sugi and Kozo (see Fig. 1). Markets and several fishing ports
were also visited to document the items for trade and to probe for
any changes in livelihoods over the past 7 years since the oil spills.
In-depth interviews, case study, participant observation, and focus
group discussions (FGDs) were conducted with key stakeholders
including the chiefs, elders, women groups, fishing cooperatives,
youth groups, faith leaders, and school pupils.
3. History of oil exploration in Ogoniland
Crude oil was first discovered in commercial quantity in Nigeria
in 1956 at Oloibiri in the present day Bayelsa State (NDDC, 2001;
Okonta, 2008). Two years later (1958), the second commercial oil
deposit, the Bomu oil field in Ogoniland, was discovered and
contributed significantly to the first shipment of oil from Nigeria to
overseas. Over years this expanded and there are 57 oil wells linked
to 5 flow stations (oil field) in Ogoni. One of the flow stations
named Bodo west field is located in the mangrove heartland of
Bodo Creek. The Trans Niger Pipeline (TNP), which transports
between 120,000 and 150,000 barrels per day of crude oil from the
Niger Delta hinterlands to the Bonny oil terminal traverses the
Bodo Creek. In spite of the suspension of oil production following
the high marks of the Ogoni struggle of the 1990s led by MOSOP,
the TNP remains active and makes the environment along its tracks
vulnerable to oil spills (CEHRD, 2008; Zabbey and Uyi, 2014).
Threats and incidents of oil spills in the Ogoni area are
compounded by uncapped wellheads and flow stations, leaks
 A. Fentiman, N. Zabbey / The Extractive Industries and Society 2 (2015) 615–624
from pipelines, spills associated with illegal tapping of wells,
transport of stolen oil and artisanal oil refining (UNEP, 2011; Linden
and Palsson, 2013; Zabbey and Uyi, 2014).
In 2008 there were two major oil spills in Bodo Creek and the
environmental impact they have had on the immediate and
adjoining communities are well documented. The reports discuss
the oil spills, the debates about the volume of oil spilt, independent
estimated volume, environmental impact in relation to livelihoods,
and the nature and scope of impact (see in particular, CEHRD,
2008; AI, 2009; Ecoland, 2009; AI and CEHRD, 2011, 2014; Vidal,
2012; Pegg and Zabbey, 2013 Vidal, 2012; Pegg and Zabbey, 2013).
There is also scientific research which measures and illustrates
the significant negative impact of the oil spills on the creek’s faunal
resources. A post impact study carried out by Zabbey and Uyi
(2014) resampled intertidal flats that had been previously studied
before the spills (see Zabbey et al., 2010; Zabbey and Malaquias,
2013; Zabbey and Hart, 2014). Quite significantly, it was shown that
81% of macrobenthic fauna (0.5 mm–5 cm animals that live in or on
sediments) were lost to the spills and that two of the resampled
sites had no macrobenthos.
The environmental degradation is well documented and the
effects are clearly visible to the naked eye. The immediate reaction
of one’s first visit to Bodo waterfront is one of disbelief, despair and
horror. Observations throughout the creeks and mangrove swamps
show that oil is ever present; oil is visible on the surface of the
creek water, the mangrove trees are decaying, fringing fruit trees
are dying, canoes have been burnt, houses along the waterfront are
unfinished and abandoned, and there is a pervading sense of
‘hopelessness’. There are signs erected by the Nigerian government
newly created ‘remedial’ agency, Hydrocarbon Pollution Restora-
tion Project (HYPREP), throughout the community warning of the
‘dangers’ that lurk in the creeks and waterways which state: ‘Public
Notice: Prohibition- Polluted Water, Do not Drink, Fish, or Swim
here’.
However, less well documented and not nearly as ‘visible’ is
what has been the impact of the oil spills on the people and culture
of Bodo? (See Fentiman, 1996 for a case study among the
neighbouring Ibani-Ijo). What is the impact on the fishermen
and women who are ‘left behind’ trying to survive despite the
warning above about pollution? What impact has there been on
the rituals and belief systems of the Bodo community? What is the
impact on the social and cultural institutions? The following
section aims to capture how the ‘environment’ using Ken Saro-
Wiwa’s ‘definition’ needs to be seen in broader terms to include the
political, economic and cultural activities.
4. The Impact of oil on the culture of Ogoni
4.1. Traditional fishing and farming economy
Bodo Creek is mangrove-sheltered, with low energy tidal
current, which makes the swamps and waterways excellent fish
breeding and recruitment grounds, and as a refuge for the multi-
species of fin and shellfish characteristics of the tropical estuarine
system (Zabbey and Uyi, 2014; Zabbey and Tanee, 2014 (under
review); Gayanilo et al., 2005; Ronnback, 1999). Bodo Creek has
long been ranked as one of the leading periwinkle collecting beds
in the Niger Delta (Powell et al., 1985). Other richly endowed
shellfish of Bodo Creek include bloody cockle (Senilia senillis),
oyster (Crassostrea gasar), swimming crab (Callinectis amnicola),
razor clam (Tagelus adansonii), land crab (Cardisoma amatum),
mangrove purple hairy crab (Goniopsis pelli) (For further informa-
tion on the fish and fisheries of Bodo Creek see Zabbey, 2011;
Zabbey and Hart, 2011; Zabbey and Malaquias, 2013; Zabbey, 2012;
Zabbey and Hart, 2014)
617
In order to understand the current situation in Bodo, it is
imperative to put it into perspective and to understand the
importance of the creeks and waterways to local communities in
the past. Traditionally, the inhabitants of Bodo engaged primarily
in fishing but also subsistence farming. As Tanen points out, ‘This
opportunity offers good farming land and fishing waters providing
channels for transportation’ Tanen (2005, p. 5). This is confirmed
by Alawa who states that the Ogoni people are blessed with land
for farming and water (salt and fresh) for fishing (1977:25).
Because of its strategic geographical location, Bodo emerged as an
important fulcrum in the bilateral trade between the fishing
communities in the eastern Delta, such as Bonny, and the
hinterland farming communities (Alagoa, 1971). Bodo also played
a significant role in providing fish to hinterland communities in
central Gokana (Tanen, 2005:47). The fishing economy in Bodo, as
in other Niger Delta communities, is dependent on common assets,
on the creeks, waterways and fishing settlements that are owned
by the community as a whole (Horton, 1969; Alagoa, 1971; Dike,
1956; Jones, 1963). Therefore, there is communal ownership of the
productive creek resources, including the mangrove swamps. The
creeks and waterways are not susceptible to demarcation as
farmland is, but are used by members of the community. Fishery
management is entrusted to community leadership, typically the
King working with the support of a council of chiefs and elders
(Khan et al., 2004). Traditional management measures widely
employed include restriction of fishing in certain areas, specific
closed days or seasons of fishing, restriction of certain fishing gears
or techniques and limiting access. Although conformity was barely
voluntary based on strong-shared social and religious cohesion
and values, there were times when defaulters were punished
through sanctions and fines. The Bodo community engaged
predominantly in local creek fishing, which is the main concern
of this paper. The fisherfolk may operate from their residential
home in the community or decide to spend variable durations at
in-creek fishing settlements (borokiri). A limited number of Ogoni
fishers may decide to migrate long distance to fish and avoid social
demands associated with fishing from within the community.
According to Igbara and Keenam (2012), some fishermen went to
Bonny, Kalabari, Yenagoa, Nembe and even up to Akassa as well as
further afield to Cameroon and Equatorial Guinea (2012:119).
However, long distance sea fishing requires significant investment
in gear and human capital. Like most coastal fishing communities
in the delta, in Bodo there is a division of labor by gender, and men
and women held separate yet complementary roles. Traditionally
men were responsible for the bulk of the food supply through
fishing and women were responsible for domestic chores and other
activities which were performed close to the home such as
collecting shellfish like periwinkles, mangrove oysters, shrimps
and bloody cockles. Women also relied on the ubiquitous
mangrove wood found throughout the creeks to use for firewood
not only for their own source of fuel but also to sell; mangrove
wood was also used for making fish racks (for smoking and
preserving fish), fish traps, and stakes for farming (especially for
yam tubers). According to interviews and focus group discussions
with community members, there was an ‘abundance of mangrove
wood’ locally available prior to the oil spill in 2008. There are
several ways in which fish could be caught in the creek. Below is a
description of some of the most prominent types of fishing.1
(i) Gathering periwinkles (Tympanotonus fuscatus; T. fuscatus var
radula; Pachymelania aurita; P. fusca). The periwinkle is found
1
See Tanen (2005, p. 48)—for a detailed description of the variety of techniques
for fishing.
618 A. Fentiman, N. Zabbey / The Extractive Industries and Society 2 (2015) 615–624
in the mudflats within and adjoining mangrove swamps and
it is gathered (picked) predominantly by women and children.
(ii) Cutting mangrove oysters. Another common mollusc is the
mangrove oyster (Crassostrea gasar).
(iii) Fish fencing (kpendor) of waterways with either net or pen is a
common form of fishing in Bodo Creek. Fish fencing takes
different shapes and magnitudes (see FAO, 1994). One of the
most common types of fishing in the creeks is fence trap; the
fence trap is sunk into the creek facing the ebbing tide and the
fish are caught in the trap. When bigger channels are fenced, it
turns to a fishing party as fisherfolk come in their numbers to
fish within the fenced areas with variable gears such as scoop
nets, dragnets, cast nets, and with bare hands.
(iv) Dragnet, or seine (korbara or ngoro) fishing. The nets are
dragged along shallow subtidal edges to catch small fishes
and shrimps. Fish trapping. These traps (kala) are usually built
with stakes and from the raffia (Raphia hookeri) fronds, and
placed upright in the water. They would cover the trap with
mangrove leaves and the fishes would enter the traps through
the funnel mouth and get entrapped in the enlarged
chambers.
(v) Casting. There are several sizes of cast nets (top-gbon),
depending on the mesh used and the ingenuity of the casting
personnel. The pocket cast nets, called beregbon, are used
mainly in creek fishing. The nets sink into the water with the
help of lead weights (pororo) attached to the bottom. These
nets are used in low level water and can catch fishes that
inhabit the mud flat environments.
(vi) Hook and line fishing (telekove). Bait is attached to a hook at the
end of the line.
(vii) Communal creek fishing (dor bon). The most prominent and
revered form of fish fencing in Bodo is the community wide
fishing party locally called ‘dor bon’. The timing of dor bon
coincides with the highest springtide in the dry season,
usually the solar equinox tide that floods interior mangrove
areas, up to the supratidal (contiguous terrestrial margin) that
cannot be inundated by normal spring floodtide. Some
prominent fish fencers combine nets in their arsenals to
fence once in three years the lagoon-like bowl of kolagbea-
sangate complex. Many people in the community, old and
young, male and female, take part in the dor bon fishing party.
Large sized fish caught is usually the preserve of the fencer(s);
the fencer reserves the right to collect from the fisherfolk any
large fish of his choice or a proportion of the day's catch. This
fencing activity promotes oneness, communal cohesion and
fosters the transfer of fishing knowledge from one generation
to the other. It encourages sustainability of local folklore as
the elderly fondly tell the young fisherfolk impacting stories
preserved in oral tradition as they wait at the waterfronts for
the tide to recede before fishing commences. However, in
telling the stories, the storyteller exercises the aged-old
privilege to a certain freedom of invention, while preserving
the very spirit and essence of what is, in truth, communal
property (Saro-Wiwa, 1991)
The 2008 oil spills have impacted in several significant ways on
the traditional fishing practices.
Most of these traditional methods described above are no
longer practiced in the creeks and waterways. Observations at
several waterfront areas revealed that these methods are no longer
viable in the polluted creeks. Many of the fishermen have lost their
access to fish in nearby creeks and waterways. The impact of this
has had a detrimental decline in the quality of life for many fishing
people. Significantly, the communal fishing activity of dor bon, has
not been performed since 2008. This Bodo time-tested community
fishing party has not been feasible to organize. Sadly, it will remain
imperiled for decades to come as recovery of the creek is projected
to take a minimum of 30 years (UNEP, 2011).
There have also been significant changes to women's livelihood
and fishing. Most women can no longer collect shellfish in the
nearby creeks and waterways. Many women have had to change
their profession with great difficulties. Interviews with women fish
traders at Popki (big market) weekly market in Bodo revealed that
many of the women have haplessly had to mitigate their losses by
switching to different, less promising livelihoods. Some are now
buying wholesale and trading produce whereby in the past they
had the opportunity to gather shellfish locally. This has had a
significant impact on their time because they now have to travel
longer distances to faraway markets such as Kaa, Aba, and Bonny to
purchase produce. The following example helps to illustrate the
changes incurred by local women traders. During a focus group
discussion we asked a group of female oyster traders where they
obtained their mangrove oysters, and they said that they had
bought them in Kaa market. When asked if they always did this
they said, ‘No. Before we used to cut the oysters from the mangrove
branches in Bodo Creek, and we did not need to buy them. We
cannot find any oysters now so we have to buy them. We have to
pay transport costs, so the profit is not big’.
In a detailed interview with an elderly woman fish seller who
had been selling for decades, she explained that before the oil spills
she used to buy fresh fish locally in Bodo from local fishermen;
however, now she has switched to selling dried fish because of the
scarcity of fresh fish. She now travels to Kaa market to buy smoked
fish and incurs high transport costs. She said that the other traders
in the market near her stall were selling ice fish or frozen fish.
The interviews with the women fish traders illustrate how the
women used to fish locally in the Bodo mangrove swamps and
waterways for their produce, but now they have to either travel
further away (which is grossly uneconomical and inconvenient) to
collect shellfish and mangrove wood or to change their livelihood
to a less profitable venture.
4.2. Impact of oil on traditional uses of creek water
Interviews with community members describe how the Bodo
Creek waters were used in the past for several purposes for
households and for the community as a whole. The water was used
for a variety of domestic uses, as well as for medicinal and healing
properties.
(i) Bathing. The water was used for bathing and sometimes it was
mixed with fresh water or rainwater. As described in Zabbey
(2012), some designated areas of the creek has spring-points
where freshwater bubbles from the ground. Many families,
especially children would bathe and swim in the creek.
(ii) Domestic chores. The water was also used for washing clothes
and utensils.
(iii) Food preparation and cooking. The salt water from the creek
was used for cooking vegetables and other culinary dishes.
Interviews with females revealed that the creek water was
used for softening and fermenting cassava tubers. The tubers
would be deposited into the water for five days and allowed to
ferment. Others said during palm oil milling, they would soak
and cook the palm fruits in the salted water before pounding
to enhance oil extraction. The ‘salty’ taste would add to their
soups.
(iv) Post-natal ritual. After three months of giving birth, new
mothers and their infants were escorted to the creek to bathe
in the water. In an interview with a female elder, she explained
the benefits of the water for the mother and newborn child. It
was believed that the water provided strength to the mother
 A. Fentiman, N. Zabbey / The Extractive Industries and Society 2 (2015) 615–624 619

and child and that it would protect them against diseases. She regattas, and the display of various cultural dance troupes and
said: masquerades. It boosted the local economy and promoted
Before the oil spill, if a woman gave birth before she starts going intra and inter-communal cohesion and collaboration in the
outside to work, the female elders would accompany the mother area, while enhancing entertainment talents; it was described
and child to the waterfront and bathe them in the water; it was as ‘a sense of coming together for all’. People who lived outside
believed that this ritual would make them stronger. It was also of Ogoniland would come back and celebrate with the family
believed that there are spiritual powers in the river for protection. and the community. A particular example of how social and
cultural activities have changed since the oil spills is that the
‘regatta’ competitions are no longer performed. The unsightly
(v) Medicinal uses of creek water. Several respondents provided
state of Kozo beach and the entire Bodo Creek post 2008
information about the importance of the creek for its healing
would not permit convocation of Kozo beach party for years to
powers to cure specific ailments and infections. The water was
come. There is an imminent threat of extinction of this cultural
used especially for treating eye infections (locally referred to
activity in Kozo.
as apolo) that were prevalent during the dry season. Several
(iii) Local market. Another example concerns the use of the
interviewees mentioned that the salt water was good for
waterfront as a market: most waterfront areas had an informal
cleaning out the ‘infection’, such as conjunctivitis. The water
local market where the fishermen would come in with their
was regarded as a healing agent and children with infections
daily catch and sell to fish traders and fish processors.
were plunged into the water and their eyes would be bathed in
Currently, there is very little economic activity at the
the salt. It was believed that the water would ‘heal’ the
waterfront. The following interview with the head of the
infection. Other interviews revealed that the water was also
fishing community in Kozo depicts what life was like before
used to treat children with chickenpox. A description of a ritual
and after the spills. He is the ‘owner’ of the fishing port which
undertaken for a high fever was illustrated by a male elder.
he inherited from his father. He never attended formal school
‘There is a special sickness that attacks you with a high
and he learned his trade (fishing) from his father. He said he
temperature – your body is burning – and you are taken to the
would accompany his father from the age of 4 years and
creek and you have to dive into the water and you are forced to
learned everything about fishing by apprenticeship. He earned
go under a boat that is in the creek. You are then given cassava
enough money to feed his large family (2 wives; 9 children)
leaves and you are scrubbed with them and then palm oil is
and to provide all the necessary amenities such as school fees,
applied. After this, it is believed that the sickness will leave you
clothing, and medicine. He recollected the rituals associated
and you will be healed’.
with the water spirits and the boat regattas that used to take
(vi) Sanitary practices. Specific demarcated areas along the
place in Kozo during the New Year. He said that before the
waterfront were also used as a toilet facility for the villagers
spills there was so much fish – now – there is very little. Asked
(see Zabbey, 2012). The locations were in tidal areas so that the
why he still fished, he replied: “I am 78 years old and this is all I
waste would be washed away. The creek water would be used
know; I need to survive. It is because of poverty that I still try
afterwards for cleansing oneself.
to fish. I can't just sit in the house and do nothing and have
nothing to feed on”. He also showed us around the community
As a result of the oil spills the creek water can no longer be used
and said that many of the houses were abandoned after the
for any of the traditional purposes and rituals described above. In a
spills. Many people left and never came back.
survey of one of the Bodo waterfront villages, it was observed that
people are now reluctant to go to toilet at the waterside, and the
As a result of the oil spills waterfront activities can no longer be
waste is now mounting up near the creek close to households and
used for any of the traditional purposes described above.
contributing to a health hazard.
Community members believe that the environmental degradation
brought on by the oil spills has had a significant impact on the use
4.3. Impact of oil on the waterfront and community recreation
of the waterfront. The shade trees have died, the smell and sight of
the pollution have affected the enjoyment of the waterside and it is
A series of interviews also revealed the social importance of the
no longer used as the ‘hub’ of the community. Elders now feel
waterfront. The following examples summarize how community
withdrawn and isolated from the community. One elder remarked,
members used the waterfront prior to 2008.
‘The lack of a place to sit at the waterfront has affected our social
interaction and our relationship with other people. Since the oil
(i) Relaxation. An elderly male recalled how community members
spills we do not feel like interacting.’
would sit at the waterfront, he said, ‘there used to be a bench
To the Ogoni, the land and the people are one and inseparable
at the waterfront where we would sit under the shade of the
(Saro-Wiwa, 1992). Many of the inhabitants of the waterfront
trees and would spend time chatting and gossiping about local
communities in Bodo also engage in subsistence farming, and
news. There was a real sense of community and coming
many plant fruit and vegetables intended for their own subsis-
together’.
tence, and for sale in the event of any surplus. Several of the
(ii) Kozo Beach Party and Canoe regatta. The serenity, shade, and
compounds have their own land for fruit trees, vegetables and
cool ambient environment of the corridors of Bodo Creek
herbs used for ‘soup ingredients’. In several interviews with
made the waterfronts attractive areas for relaxation (Zabbey,
community members along the waterfront they thought that the
2012). During the last decade of the 20th century, a peer group
fertility of the farmland was affected by the spills. Many
started an annual Kozo beach party and it became entrenched
complained that their crops are not growing and that their trees
and gained Rivers State wide recognition on 1st January, 2000
are dying. Observations showed that many of the leaves are turning
through the assistance of Mr. Kenneth Kobani, then Rivers
brown, and it was reported that yields are low.
State Commissioner for Commerce and Tourism. Afterwards, it
Prior to the 2008 spills, girls of secondary school age in Bodo
became a convention every January 1st. The Kozo beach party
were reputed for practicing cooperative farm weeding known as
became increasingly popular and the Kozo beach was at the
‘bonanom’. This happens in rotation on farms of the participating
verge of being transformed into a 21st century tourist centre.
members. At the beginning of every farming season, as clear-
The party featured dancing and singing competitions, canoe
cutting of fallowed farm lots progresses, girls of 14–20 age bracket
620 A. Fentiman, N. Zabbey / The Extractive Industries and Society 2 (2015) 615–624
would form peer groups of between 5 and 7 members each. It was
incumbent on the parents of a weeding cooperative member to
procure for her a make-up basket or box. Each group would take
turns to go to their members’ farm lots preferably on Saturdays to
weed and subsequently plant cash crops. Individuals and groups
that demonstrate superior weeding and planting skills were
celebrated using formulated songs that had the adjudged winner
names embedded in the lyrics whilst less efficient groups were
castigated. At the end of the day’s work, the group members would
trek to a nearby stream, bathe and wear make-up, and return home
dressed in their fineries. Oftentimes, a weeding cooperative would
metamorphose to either periwinkle or bloody cockle harvesting
mates. Proceeds from periwinkle and cockle sales complemented
payback stipend following farm produce sales, with which the girls
paid their school fees and used for their upkeep. Above all,
cooperative weeding had encouraged competitive hard work and
peer group cohesion. This cultural practice has dwindled and
continues to diminish following the massive 2008 oil spills which
impacted island farms and farmlands on the fringes of Bodo
Creeks; a consequence of irreversible shrinkage of farming space
and loss of shellfish collecting ground.
4.5. Impact of oil on beliefs and rituals
Despite the impact of Christianity, and the proliferation of
churches, indigenous belief systems are still an important factor in
the social identity and social cohesion in Ogoni culture. This is
reflected in the following practices:
Coastal Shrines: Shrines of notable deities are erected along
Ogoni coastal areas to fortify the protection of the communal
resources against reckless exploitation. Shrines are also set up to
enhance productivity of the sea and to ward off external invasion or
encroachment by trespassers. For instance, in Bodo, it was (and is
now still mildly) believed that properties, however valuable can be
kept safely at ‘Ke kpaban’ waterfront, as such items are placed in the
custody of the Kpaban deity; the deity will punish spiritually a
defaulter. There are 14 shrines within Bodo Creek, which include
Zor Amaba, Si Eeva, Zor Kpakpazaa, Zor Gei, Si Zoramaabu.
Masquerades. Ritual activities in Ogoni culture acknowledge the
importance of the environment to their livelihood and wellbeing.
Many of the rituals are performed for the water and the land; they
are concerned with successful fishing, growing crops, and the
rearing of animals. Annual display of elumene masquerades
mimicking creatures of the sea/creek such as olor (shrimps) and
otobo (hippopotamus) masquerades—the latter are dressed from
the creek waterfront, decorated with twigs and young leave
branches of the white mangrove (Avicennia germinas); the twigs
and leaves hung in their mouths.
There are also numerous shrines and beliefs associated with the
waterways and creeks as well as the farming areas where the new
yam festival is extremely important. The Ogoni have several types
of sculpture including face masks used for masquerading,
zoomorphic masks, masks depicting wild animals such as ‘sea
dogs’. The owu (or elumene) masks are believed to be spirits that
live in the mangrove swamps and estuaries, and according to Jones
(1988, p. 70): ‘they were usually represented by masquerades by
head masks; the masks are worn on top of the head and facing
upwards. It is believed that this is the way the water spirits
normally appeared to people, with their bodies hidden in the water
and their faces level with the surface’. More recently, Kpone-Tonwe
and Salmons (2002) corroborated the depictions by Jones and
remarked that ‘there are many types of masquerades which are
used for entertainment, punishment, social control, and male
aggression.’ Tanen (2005) points out that some of the ovu or
elumene cultural plays came to Bodo through dealings with the
Ibani. As observed in Bonny, the masquerade served two essential
purposes. First, it honours the water spirits, upon whom the fishing
economy is thought to be dependent. It is believed that by
performing masquerades the fisherfolk will be rewarded with a
successful fishing season. Secondly, the masquerades are used as a
means to unite all village members irrespective of where they
might be (Jewett, 1988: 215). In an in depth interview and meeting
with a master carver in Bodo he showed us the sacred room that
housed all his masks and carvings. He explained the variety of
masks used for masquerades; they depicted a wide range of types
of carvings of water spirits. The various masks were: otobo
(hippopotamus); Ozuvuuma (sea animal); Fingi-bele (big fish in the
water); elubele (tortoise masquerade); kordo (snapper); Kanutete
(old masquerade—an indigenous comic traditional play); kamuu
(sting ray fish).
Oil pollution impacts heavily on the creative endeavours of the
fine and performing arts of the Niger Delta (Bell-gam et al., 2002).
They noted that when oil pollutes forests, materials used in carving
masquerade masks, traditional music instruments, artifacts are
being destroyed. This was confirmed in our interview with the
master carver. The masquerades in Bodo have not been performed
since the oil spills in 2008 because it is believed that the water
spirits have been affected by the oil spills and have gone away to
new locations. When asked where, an elder responded, ‘only God
knows’. Significantly, masquerades are still being performed in
geographically contiguous areas such as Bonny and Elem Kalabari.
For example, in December 2014, several masquerades were
performed in Oloma Village, Bonny and there was a competition
amongst over 20 cultural dance troupes in Bonny town.
Recollections from Bodo elders state how they celebrated in Bodo
before the spills during December homecoming. A male elder
confirmed the importance attached to the belief in the water
spirits, ‘the water spirits would come to the creeks and transfer
into different things such as a python and this would enable us to
have more and more fishes. But now, after the spills, the sprits are
gone and the fish yields are low. The water spirits made people
happy, but now they are sad. Many of the plays are now extinct—
Vikunuke, Nkoo, Zaimon and Kadei. According to another male
elder, 55 yrs from Tegu, ‘The water spirits have moved away
because of the oil spills. There has been an increase in spirit
possession because the spirits are affected and the spirits are angry
and are making people sick and possessing them. He mentioned
that there were different spirits for different waterfronts. Some
were female spirits, Vaazorgu and Vaaoro and others such as
Zormodo (male). These spirits would possess you but not in a
negative way. Now a lot of our spirits have gone away. They were
very important to our livelihood because they would protect us
from stealing but now that they are gone there is an increase in
theft.
The oil is affecting the masquerade societies because there is no
money now; the society is being affected because members cannot
contribute to finance the group. There is an erosion of our cultural
practices; one of the interviewees remarked. If the cleanup is not
commenced soon, our people will find it difficult to stay here.
Asked “How do you feel about the oil spills?” One interviewee
replied, I feel so bad and there is an Ogoni proverb that says, “canoe
says that if people were to see what she is seeing in the river people
would not enter it”. Another says “if you are close to the water you
know how the crocodile cries”. In other words, you know the
secret. Before we knew the river and knew how to benefit from it
now we do not know what to expect.
The master carver in Bodo is also concerned about the impact of
the oil on the wood that he uses for carving. The tree is known
locally as kukee, and he remarked that he uses this special wood for
carving masks, walking sticks, paddles, and sculptures. He said that
the special trees are no longer growing properly and that the trees
are not maturing. He described it as saying that the ‘trees are killed
 A. Fentiman, N. Zabbey / The Extractive Industries and Society 2 (2015) 615–624
inside (hollow) but the outside is still good.’ He can use the wood
for coffins but not for masks. When asked if he could get the wood
from another area, and he said emphatically, ‘no, the wood has to
come from here; this is our homeland.’
Another indigenous society that is undergoing change is the
Amanikpo Society. The origin of Amanikpo is provided in great
detail in Anokari (1987) and Vikoo (2003) and need not be
repeated here. The Amanikpo Society, also known as Gbogim, is one
of the most revered, time-honoured and long-standing secret
societies in Ogoni. The Amanikpo society, which represents the
power and will of ancestral spirits, still plays an important role in
Ogoni culture. It is an institution, which assisted in governance and
in local politico-jural affairs. Alawa (1977) noted that the
Amanikpo Society had a dual function, ‘one governmental and
secondly, social fraternity as well as an entertainment club. The
Amanikpo society had the power to protect property, and to collect
debts from debtors. According to Tanen (2005), it was a highly
prestigious and revered society whose membership enhances
individual social status and engendered respect. Despite efforts by
the growing beliefs in Christianity, the Amanikpo continues to this
day. ‘In 1987, a battle for supremacy between the Amanikpo and
the Christian churches produced chaos and disorder in Bodo’
(2005:41). Irrespective of this clash, the resilience of the Amanikpo
is still regarded as an important aspect of Ogoni cultural heritage.
In a recent interview with the current head of the Amanikpo
society in Bodo, he said that the society still continues and still acts
as a ‘community police force—that settles disputes’. He said that
Amanikpo members from all over the country will come back in
April to take part in the various rituals. Radio broadcasts will be
made to summon members to return. However, he did acknowl-
edge that membership is falling and that one significant impact of
the oil spills is that young men cannot afford the initiation fee
(50,000 Naira; $295) to join the society. You have to contribute
money, buy goats, fowls, drinks, plantains, and other items. You
have to go through an initiation ritual. He said that young men do
not have the money to do this since the oil spills. This concurs with
an earlier view that ‘One has to spend a lot of money to become a
member” (Clement, 2010:143). He also thought that the masks
used by the society are also affected by the spills; they are hanging
on the wall (in a special room) and the ‘smell of the oil’ has
penetrated into the masks.
Cultural singing and dancing troupes. Women were, to a large
extent, excluded from the masquerades and Amanikpo society, but
were members of singing and dancing associations. Several
interviews with women revealed that in the past there were
numerous cultural singing and dancing associations that would
perform in the community. Each village had its own group. These
groups were important for social and community interaction. The
women showed us photos of the dancing groups and the
distinctive cloths the women would wear. Young ladies in each
zone in the community had a dance group in which they would
sing and dance. The groups would practice for a few months and
then there would be competitions with other zones. According to
Tanen, they were used ‘as vehicles for social integration, they
provided avenues for talents and physical emotion as well as
symbolically portrayed the level of community organisation and
sense of oneness (2005: 79). Interviews with women recall how
these institutions have declined and changed particularly because
of economic reasons. People do not have the membership money
and secondly, the sense of community has changed. People are
much more withdrawn than in the past. The sense of collectiveness
and ‘social cohesion’ has changed since the oil spills.
Time-honoured and revered cultural practices, important for
the Bodo identity and sense of community, are eroding. The impact
of the oil spills has had a dramatic impact on institutions both
directly (by destroying the local environment) and indirectly, as
621
local economic decline makes membership of societies such as the
Amanikpo prohibitively expensive. As one male elder responded in
relation to why the cultural practices were eroding: ‘If your house
gets burned, can you still live there? That is why we are losing most
of our culture.
4.6. The traditional experience of childhood
The socialization of children is an important aspect in learning
culturally specific roles and social behavior (Whiting and Whiting,
1975). Children often learn important cognitive and psycho-social
skills by participating in everyday tasks, and by following their
parents/guardians, which is referred to as scaffolding (Vygotsky,
1978). In Bodo children would often accompany their parents to
the creek and learn basic skills associated with the local natural
environment. They would pick shellfish, fish with dragnets or hand
nets, learn to swim, and learn to paddle a canoe. Many skills would
be learned by accompanying a parent or elder sibling to the
waterfront.
Two FGDs held with school children in Senior Secondary
Schools class 3, involving three male pupils from St. Pius X College,
and three females from Bodo City Girls Secondary School (BCGSS).
All the children were from Bodo, and they described life before the
spills. They said that they would go to the creeks to play, to fish, to
swim, and to socialize. They would collect shellfish and small fish
in the creeks and sell them to buy items for school such as pens and
notebooks, sandals and sweets. In many instances they would give
some of the money to their parents. They remarked that fishing
was an activity that yielded ‘instant cash’—unlike farming where
you had to wait for your produce to grow. All six children remarked
that their parents were dependent on the creeks and waterways for
their subsistence. When asked what has been the impact of the oil
spills, they said that now they did not have a ‘defined’ space to play.
The girls said that their school playgrounds have also been
affected; BCGSS abuts the creek. Before they would play games and
sports and that the school was a conducive environment. But,
following the spills, there is an unpleasant odour, dust, the water is
contaminated and it is a decaying environment, which is not
conducive for learning and extracurricular activities.
Children have been affected by changes in their parents’ lives.
One of the students said that he has had to wear the same school
uniform for the past 3 years because he could not afford to buy a
new one. He said it was old and torn but there was nothing he could
do to replace it. He could no longer have access to ‘pin money’ to
assist with his expenses.
Some parents referred to the impact of the oil spills on the
socialization skills of their children. Many parents fear that their
children will no longer be able to participate in the local fishing
culture. As Igbara writes, ‘the upbringing of a child was the
collective responsibility of the entire community . . . children
were able to exploit the resources of the environment. By the time
a child got to adolescence he was able to know the names of the
plants and trees in his environment, the methods of farming,
fishing and grounds and the history of his people’ Igbara and
Keenam (2012, p. 64). This ‘local knowledge’ that was learned by
living in the environment is sadly wasting away. Many elders
interviewed remarked that they learned their skills from their
parents and older siblings; they feared that the young generation
of children would not learn the skills that they had taken for
granted. In an interview with a young father, 25 years, who was
holding his 2-year son was asked: what will the future be like for
his son? He said that life before the spills was good because he had
his own boat and could fish. Now that the spills had happened, he
has lost his livelihood and a fire that had started at the waterside
burned his boat. He fears that his son will not be able to learn the
622 A. Fentiman, N. Zabbey / The Extractive Industries and Society 2 (2015) 615–624
things he had learned from his father about the water and fishing;
he said he felt a sense of despair for the future of his son.
In an interview with a senior fisherman, he revealed the
concern for future generations. He mentioned that his grand-
children would not learn the fishing skills he acquired from his
father and grandfather. He reflected and said, ‘my grandchildren
will not learn in the same detail or have the experiences that I had
during my youth and as a fisherman. In ten years there will be
nothing like fishing . . . the oil has ruined our way of life.’
4.7. Impact of oil on the elderly
Material support for the elderly has also significantly reduced
since the oil spills. Several interviews revealed that elders would sit
at the waterside waiting for the fishermen to arrive back from their
daily fishing activities, and it was culturally expected for elders to
be ‘dashed’ (donu ne tee) some fish, which they would then use for
their own subsistence. This was an accepted way of providing a
means of ‘social security’ to those who could not venture out, and it
was also a sign of respect. In a FGD with four elderly women in
Tene-ol (see Fig. 1) they reminisced about sitting at the waterfront
and being given fish from the fishermen. They said now they could
not do that because it was humiliating. They acknowledged that
the fishermen did not have any fish to give them and that the
waterfront was destroyed; there was no place for them to sit.
4.8. Marriage and death
The economic impact of the oil spills has also affected two
important aspects of the life cycle, marriage and death. Interviews
with young men in their 30s revealed that several of them are
unmarried. The main reason they cited was economic hardship due
to the oil spills and the impact on their livelihood. They could not
afford to marry (See also, Vikoo, pp.121–122). They said that in the
past they would be married by this age but because of the lack of
money to pay for the bride-price (which varies between families)
and the additional costs of a reception put a lot of pressure on
them. They simply could not afford to marry. In an interview with a
male, 35 years old, he listed the expense involved in providing the
bride price in Bodo, which he can no longer afford. He listed the
following: 3 goats (she goats, so more expensive); 3 bunches of
plantain; 6 bottles of Kiki (illicit gin); 12 bottles of ‘hot’ drinks
(schnapps); 300 Naira for the neck of the goat (100N/goat) known
as kpegemenbol, the main bride price (kpezeelila); 10–20,000
Naira, gifts for the friends of the bride including 2 crates of soft
drink; 1 carton of maltina; 2 packets of trebor; 2 packets of
chewing gum; 3 kg of palm wine; cash of 7000 Naira; drinks for the
mother in law; drinks for father in law; and, the costs of the
reception including decorations, food, drink and music.
In several interviews it was also revealed that the cost of
funerals is increasing, and that people are now delaying the burials
because of the lack of money. During a visit to a burial, we
interviewed the family who said that they had to wait over a year to
bury their mother because of the lack of money to pay for the
funeral, and the two-week reception that followed. It is customary
for the bereaved family to receive visitors offering condolences for
a week or two after interment and they are expected to provide
food and drinks to the visitors. One family mentioned that the
economic impact of the oil spills is affecting the release of corpses
from the morgue. In some instances they are left for over 2 years.
4.9. A sense of hopelessness
A sense of hopelessness is prevalent. FGDs reported a growing
sense of despair following the spills. It has been recorded that
dreams and nightmares are an important aspect of the Ogoni belief
system. As Clement (2010) has remarked, ‘it is also a key to their
natural revelation of the abstract information when God and the
ancestors want to reveal or send certain vital data about their
situation, conditions and future happenings to the Ogoni, they are
revealed in dreams’. During interviews it was shown that
individuals experience nightmares about their current economic
situation after the oil spills. One young fisherman who used to fish
near Gbea, (36 yrs), remarked, ‘In my sleeping I am crying, in my
dreaming I am crying; no money, no hope.’In a focus group
discussion with a group of elder fishermen, one interviewee, said
the ‘dead men are better off now than we are’ (Gbo ababee-u le-el
gboa diddum). One elder said before we would sit together at the
waterfront now we have become introverted and sit at our
compounds. We are scared to go out and we are ‘frightened by the
pollution’ and the ‘odour’. Another elder said that after the spills,
people were crying and shouting. He illustrated a visual reaction to
the spills and he said people would sit with their knees brought up
to their chest and with their arms crossed in a foetal position—
which symbolizes a sense of utter disbelief and despair. It is an
action you do when something terrible happens. In fact, it was as if
we had all died. All sense of purpose had eroded’.
4.10. Migration
Social divisions are exacerbated between those able to leave the
community and those unable to do so. A clear distinction needs to
be made between those who reside in Bodo most of the year and
those who have migrated away for education, employment
opportunities, and marriage; some migrants were labelled as
‘environmental refugees’ (Pyagbara, 2007). Those who are ‘left
behind’ in the local communities are dependent on their natural
habitat and environment for survival. Unlike many of the elders
interviewed, most of the youth should have gone to school, but
remained in Ogoniland to pursue traditional local occupations.
Most of those interviewed who are still resident and involved in
fishing said that their ‘local knowledge’ of the environment was
important to their survival, and that until the oil spills they had
food, clothes, shelter and a decent quality of life (see Green, 1982
for an example in Bonny).
When asked how things have changed since the spills, several
remarked that there was no fish in the creeks, that their fishing
boats and gear have been destroyed, and that they were struggling
to make a living. One outcome of the spills is the realization that
many do not have any other skills to fall back on. They are tied to
the water and farmland that they knew. Unlike wealthier families
that had been well educated and had homes in Port Harcourt, they
do not have anywhere to go. Some of the youth interviewed were
angry and disillusioned because they do not see any prospect of
achievement or local employment. When asked why they did not
migrate outside to Port Harcourt, or other areas, they replied, ‘Why,
where are we to go? Who will feed us?’ This highlights the
importance of the community’s sense of belonging and acting as a
safety net to those who have remained in local communities (See
Opukri and Ibaba, 2008). Many want to fish in their communal
creeks and waterways. Another youth remarked, ‘look around you,
look at the waterfront and look at the derelict houses, look at the
half built houses—will those who are building them come back to
invest?’
This is also relevant for young women who have relied on the
local environment for their income. Several of the women
interviewed said that they could not leave Bodo because of their
responsibilities to their families. Many had to look after the elderly
and the young children. One woman said that she had accommo-
dation in Bodo, and that her kin members could assist with
childcare, so she could not leave. The burden on women is
increasing because of the long distances they now have to travel for
 A. Fentiman, N. Zabbey / The Extractive Industries and Society 2 (2015) 615–624
firewood and for their livelihoods. Those who still collect shellfish
have to go much further away to collect, whereas in the past they
could pick close by. The amount of time they spend away is
increasing because of the impact of the oil on the local
environment.
6. Conclusion
It is evident from our research, that the impact of the 2008 oil
spills on many facets of the economic, social and cultural life of the
Bodo community has been extensive. Our research shows that
traditional fishing methods can no longer be employed in the
creeks and waterways and traditional economic practices are no
longer viable; the creek water can no longer be used for a variety of
traditional purposes; the waterfront can no longer be used for
cultural, social, economic and recreational purposes; farmland has
been affected; indigenous belief systems are affected; the
traditional experience of childhood and socialization has been
significantly altered; social interaction has been adversely affected
by a shift from communal to individual activities; material support
for the elderly has also been significantly affected; social
institutions relating to marriage and death have been impacted;
and, a sense of ‘hopelessness’ and ‘despair’ are prevalent. The
cultural erosion of indigenous institutions and activities which are
the pinnacle of Ogoni identity and to the Bodo community, in
particular, are changing at an alarming pace. The impact of the
major oil spills in 2008 has not only significantly altered the
environmental landscape but it also has the potential to alter the
ethnographic landscape. In his book Genocide in Nigeria, Saro-
Wiwa made an emotional plea to the international community to
embrace his demands and to do something to halt the environ-
mental and cultural degradation in Ogoniland. The last point in his
ten-point course of action was: “Prevail on Shell and Chevron to
pay compensation to the Ogoni people for ruining the Ogoni
environment and the health of Ogoni men, women and children”
(1992:103). In December 2014, a landmark settlement between the
Bodo community and Shell Petroleum Development Company
(Nigeria) Ltd., (“SPDC”) was agreed for 55 million pounds
compensation from Shell. The ‘voice’ of Saro-Wiwa lives on as
shown in the determination and resilience of the people of Bodo
who fought for social justice. It is too early to determine the full
impact of the settlement on the Bodo community for it will take
several decades to clean up the environmental damage; however,
the compensation may help to contribute to the preservation and
restoration of their cultural human rights.
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