The human cost of oil extraction, an oil child’s story
By Adesuwa James Jang
An oil child’s story of resistance in Otuabagi community of Bayelsa State, Nigeria
By Adesuwa James Jang. Team Lead, Youth for Environmental Sustainability and Development (YESD).
As I stand amidst the ravaged landscape of the great Otuabagi community of Bayelsa State, Nigeria, I am reminded of the agonising consequences of relentless oil extraction. The once-thriving ecosystem now lies polluted and on the brink of extinction, a stark testament to the destructive power of capitalist greed as well as the potency of such greed in shaping the narrative of a generation.
As a youth project coordinator for Environmental Rights Action Nigeria and founder of Youth for Environmental Sustainability and Development, I have long dedicated myself to championing environmental justice and sustainable development in the resource-rich region of Nigeria at large. A pivotal moment in my journey was in 2017, when I met with the youth from the country’s oil-producing and tin-mining communities. One of those young people was named Peremoboere.
My personal story is intertwined with hers. A tragic journey that fuels our collective determination to build resistance in natural resource-producing communities of Nigeria.
Our changing land
16 years ago, Peremoboere settled by the bank of Otuabagi’s community river with her toes dipping in the cool, moist soil. The waters were gold with the sun’s rays and she was surrounded by the scents of the soil and the fresh fish. This was the same river that her father had fished in for years; a source of not just food, but livelihood.
Having spent most of her life in this remote part of Bayelsa State in Nigeria, all Peremoboere knew growing up was fishing, the sounds of the chirping birds and the smell of this river. She did not attend school – but that didn’t really matter much to her; the river was her school; the mangroves, her play area.
Hers is a story of pollution as a result of oil extraction. The change was gradual and began with a tale of false hope. At first, when we heard the sounds of heavy machines in the distance, we believed what we’d been told by the companies in charge of the machinery – that this would bring progress to our community and our lands.
Then we started catching fewer fish. Eventually, the water in our beloved river came to look like a sad imitation of its former self. Oil floated on its surface, and the water – once full of life – was empty of fish, and emitted the sickening stench of death.
The true costs of this extraction were laid bare. The previously fertile and productive land turned into wastelands because of chemical and oil spills; the roof of Peremoboere’s home corroded after the acid rains poured down. Her father lost his job, as fishing and farming became impossible. The rivers changed colour to black, barren and lifeless; the pristine air became unbreathable, infused with the odour of poisonous gas that degraded the atmosphere day and night.
Organising against oil giants and globalising the fight for justice
“The oil companies made a small number of people rich while almost all residents of Otuabagi were impoverished,” Peremoboere tells me. In a trick of colonial capitalism which is repeated time and again, the earnings that we’d been told our community would receive from the development were not given to the people to whom the oilfields belonged – but went to external sources such as Government operatives and corporations, which only cared about profit.
Peremoboere was not able to stay quiet. She decided to build a movement — one that had not been seen before. It wasn’t usual for a woman to lead this kind of actions, but Peremoboere understood that protecting her land from the devastating impacts of oil extraction was a matter of survival. She had to protect their land and their future.
Initially, it seemed like an impossible idea. Oil companies had strong political backing, and any dissenting voices were suppressed by force or money. But Peremoboere and a few other courageous individuals began to strategise, realising that their only opportunity was to unite. To keep themselves safe while doing so, they had to remain undercover.
One of the movements’ grievances was oil spills and the oil extraction, its health impacts as well as raising awareness of what the oil industry’s actual consequences are. They knew that their pain did not only stem from environmental degradation but was also part of a systemic pattern of inequality and exploitation.
A legacy of resilience
For Peremoboere, land activism went beyond reclaiming land. It was about stamping out capitalist establishments that appropriated people’s land and livelihood for so-called ‘progress’ and utility, while oppressing people. Oil companies and their investors created a colonial structure which treated communities such as Peremoboere’s as mere nuisances – easily replaceable with more willing contributors to global capitalism.
Hers was a long fight. The oil companies retaliated with divide-and-rule tactics but the more they attempted to stifle the resistance, the more it intensified.
Otuabagi was no longer Peremoboere’s sole focus, as other communities had experienced the same horror. They began to link their struggles, understanding that the fight against oil displacement was one for justice, for equity, and their lives. What began as a few brave villagers soon grew into a regional crusade for the accountability of oil corporations and their political backers.
They also recognised that the land was worth every struggle. It was not only about them; it was about their children and their grandchildren, so that they never experience the consequences of capitalism.
Inspiring a sustainable future for youth in the Niger Delta
Peremoboere is now a youth coordinator for Young Friends of Earth, Nigeria. Working together, we’ve realised that our initiatives must focus on sustainable livelihoods, renewable energy and community-led restoration. Today, our struggle transcends environmentalism; it's a battle against inequality, marginalisation and cultural erasure of peasant farmers in the Niger Delta and beyond.
As I look toward the future, I draw strength from the dedication of Nigerian writer and social rights activist Saro-Wiwa who led a peaceful movement for the environmental and human rights of Nigeria's Ogoni people whose oil-rich land has been exploited by multinational oil companies. I often look to his words when I need hope, "We, the Ogoni people, will not rest." Together, we rise against devastation, whilst forging sustainability and a platform of inspiration for generations yet unborn.
Peremoboere’s life, like the Otuabagi community river, is still winding its way into the bends. The oil companies and artisan tin miners continue to exploit the land, and the landscape is still in tatters. But the people will not remain quiet anymore. They have come up from the ashes and are working to create a resilience that seeks to do more than just endure but excel even amidst the fiercest of conditions. And in their defiance is contained the promise of restoring their homeland, their self-respect and their tomorrow.
What can you do?
As people of the Niger Delta, we have created a manifesto with our demands.
Read more Shado articles on the Niger Delta:
This is the fifth article in our collaborative series with Shado Mag, which explores how humanity and the natural world are completely entwined. Each piece offers examples of Indigenous knowledge systems and tools that can be used to dismantle exploitation and build a more equitable future. Stay tuned for more, and follow our series on Instagram, too!
This article by Jennifer Clapp for The Coversation, breaks down how technological boosters for food production are missing the root causes of hunger, calling for courageous political choices in order to truly advance food security.
This article by Husam Mahjoub for the Transnational Institute on the sub-imperial power of the United Arab Emirates in Africa, “understanding its role in reshaping regional geopolitics is critical for resistance and justice movements to challenge imperialist power structures effectively.”
This article by Naoki Nitta for Civil Eats celebrates the restoration of kava, a traditional Hawaiian drink that is helping sustain native culture and encourage state food sovereignty.
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Reading this felt like standing ankle-deep in that same river — witnessing both the destruction and the defiance. The story of Peremoboere isn’t just about environmental activism; it’s about the courage to reclaim dignity when everything—land, livelihood, even breath—has been stolen.
Thank you, Adesuwa, for documenting this resistance with such clarity and heart. These aren’t abstract crises; they’re lived realities. May this piece ripple far beyond Bayelsa and echo wherever extraction masks itself as “progress.”
Thank you for this story. Is there a way we can link up?