Ten Billion Naira and the Unfinished Bridge: A Wake-Up Call to the Niger Delta
By Passman Akpos
Just hours ago, on Wednesday the 15th of October 2025, the news that ex-militant leader Government Ekpemupolo, popularly known as Tompolo, donated a staggering ₦10 billion to the Delta State Security Trust Fund has flooded the headlines.
Across social media, in government circles, and in many Niger Delta communities, applause has echoed loud. But amidst the celebration, very few are asking the most important questions — questions that ordinary people in the creeks, coastal towns, and oil-rich swamps of the Niger Delta have a right, if not a responsibility, to ask.
Who Truly Benefits From This Gesture?
Is it the people — the fishermen who can no longer fish, the farmers whose lands are soaked in crude oil, the jobless youth in Warri, Gbaramatu, Yenagoa, and Bonny — or is it the power structures that have grown fat on control, fear, and security contracts?
Let’s be clear: no one is against genuine acts of philanthropy or investment in public safety. The Niger Delta has suffered insecurity, kidnappings, oil bunkering, and environmental sabotage for far too long. But when the donor of ₦10 billion hails from a region where some of the most basic infrastructure like bridges, roads, schools, and hospitals are still a dream, one must pause and ask: What is the source of this wealth? Who made the region unsafe in the first place? What have these billions done to change the lives of the common people?
The Illusion of Empowerment—In Tompolo’s own hometown, there is reportedly no bridge connecting the community to the rest of the region. This is not a metaphor — it’s a reality. How can billions be moving in and out of a region that remains largely undeveloped?—Go further: how are the lives of those who have worked closely with the so-called “leaders” of the struggle? What pensions do ex-foot soldiers have? What schools do their children attend? What dreams can they still dream?
While the elites of the region dine in Abuja and secure multi-billion Naira contracts, the people in the creeks are told to sing praises and wave flags. And many do, out of fear or false hope. But the truth is this: a system has been built where a few control everything — from oil surveillance to political narratives — while the rest are reduced to servants and cheerleaders.
A Region Betrayed By Its Own—For decades, the Niger Delta has cried out against exploitation by oil multinationals and neglect by the federal government. But today, we must ask a harder question: Has the region also been betrayed by its own?
The struggle for resource control and environmental justice was once noble. Today, it seems that struggle has been hijacked by those who now want control of contracts, control of territories, and control of the people.
Where Are the Hospitals, The Schools, The Jobs?—₦10 billion could build dozens of schools. It could fund community clinics, empower small businesses, or train young people in tech, agriculture, and entrepreneurship. It could connect isolated communities with bridges and roads. But the money went to a “security fund” — another opaque pool that many fear may not translate into real safety or development.
What the region needs is not just surveillance; it needs transformation.
A Call to the People: Ask Questions, Demand Answers—The people of the Niger Delta must rise beyond the politics of handouts. We must stop clapping for every man who throws crumbs from the table while sitting on the breadbasket. We must ask questions:
How did he make that money?
Why is there still poverty in oil-producing communities?
What have our “liberators” done for us since they gained power and contracts?
Why are our sons still dying in the Mediterranean Sea chasing greener pastures?
Nigeria, Wake Up!
This is not just a Niger Delta issue. It is a Nigerian issue. Every region has its “power brokers” who play god and silence the people with money and fear. But the country cannot move forward when public wealth is privatized, when freedom of thought is discouraged, and when those who dare to ask questions are called ungrateful or rebellious.
We must reject hero worship that has no accountability. We must demand transparency from both our leaders and our so-called liberators. And we must remember that no one is above being questioned — especially when they claim to act in the name of the people.
The Road Ahead—It’s time for a new struggle in the Niger Delta — not one fought with guns or militant camps, but with education, organization, accountability, and civic consciousness. The real enemies are not just in faraway boardrooms. Sometimes, they live among us, shielded by the praises of those they oppress.
So before we clap again for another ₦10 billion “gift,” let us ask: Where is our bridge? Where is our school? Where is our future?
Let the people rise. Let the truth be told.
I’m PASSMAN AKPOS
(The Militant with a pen)
