Shell Gas Station...or Hell Gas Station?
A dead oil well has remained untapped for 20 years now. It was forced to bleed the earth of one of its most valuable resources: crude oil. There was a time when this well pumped non-stop, thirstily sucking the oil from the ground. But now it’s only left to observe its surroundings; the consequences of its career as a juicer of the land.
To the near East, an impoverished village struggles for survival. Barefoot children play in the battered dirt pathways, told by their mothers to avoid the ditches that surround the houses because feces, urine, and mounds of trash flood the lowlands. This is hardly a habitat for animals let alone humans. The houses are modest, sculpted with a simple mixture of a compact dirt and dead grass, topped off with straw roofing.
A mile West of the dead well lies a river, blackened by pollution. The dirt surrounding the waterfront is crusted over by clumps of dry oil, which has slowly formed due to oil leaks in the pipelines. Most of these leaks remained unrepaired, up to the day the well was deemed unusable—or, squeezed dry of oil, at least. This river doesn’t harbor water acceptable for drinking, but the villagers to the East use it as their only water source anyways.
Many miles north, a larger village exists with nicer roads, houses, and better technology; many government officials live here. The oil company, “Mr. Government” many call it, has paid the officials of this “host community,” nicely for allowing it to pump oil here, even though the oil well is located a small walk away from the Village to the East. This northern village proves to be even more unsanitary, though. Besides the rich government leaders and oil company contractors, the average population is pushed into depths of the slums; scrap metal and garbage construct the foundations for their homes.
South of this oil well, a rebel group is plotting its payback to Mr. Government, or the Royal Dutch Shell Company in proper terms. This group, named MEND (Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta), is formed from over five-thousand young men—young men that grew up in the village to the East and many more from the Village to the North (Rebels). These hopeful rebels plan on making a change in the local politics, and will call upon drastic and radical measures to make sure this change happens. To each young man an A.K. 47 is within an arm’s grip—a grip that finds its strength in years of exploitation. This is the Niger Delta region of Nigeria, Africa’s most populous country and Africa’s largest oil producer (Rebels). The interactions that take place in these distant wetlands, immensely affect the rest of the world.
“TEN POINTS,” shouts Gaelyn, leaning forward in the passenger seat of my car, pointing her freshly painted finger nail at an extremely aged woman making a pathetic, hunched attempt to cross the street. This had become a common time-filler game between Gaelyn and me. The rules to this entertainment apply as following: during any driving occasion, if either of us recognizes a poor pedestrian making an attempt to cross traffic, one of us will evaluate the victim’s physical dexterity, shout how many points they should be worth, and it instantly becomes the driver’s primary goal to smash into them. Once smashed into the pedestrian, the points are awarded. Though, of course, we never actually hit anyone.
The old woman was a good block away from my car’s hood, but at the snail pace she was taking, I felt like I could easily snag her. She was the perfect target for my sixty miles-per-hour rush—the rush to get to our Orchestra concert on time. And with our Orchestra Director, who was blessed with the stare of death intended to whip his musical students into shape, attendance in a timely manner was demanded on every occasion.
“C’mon, she’s clearly worth more than ten points,” I applied a tad more pressure to the gas pedal, “she’s an antique! Rarity deserves a point boost—I’d say at least twenty points.” During this bargaining plea, I glanced down at my gas gauge: empty—no, wait, passed empty; the pointer was resting below the red line. “Jeeze, I got to get some gas, or else we won’t make it to the concert at all.”
I let up on the speed, while Gaelyn and I’s attention suddenly shifted from the cripple and instead towards a mad search for a Gas Station; meanwhile the old woman found refuge on the side of the road. There was only one in sight on our route: a Shell station. “No, I’m not going to get gas there,” I mildly asserted.
“Erik, we’re already going to be late for our call time—we can’t waste anymore time looking for another gas station, just go to Shell.” Gaelyn’s hair curled into a bun, and her long, elegant black dress met my floor’s carpet. She was right; we had no time, so I reluctantly turned into the station. As I swung my vehicle’s door open, my car stereo began unintentionally preaching at me. Mathangi Arulpragasm—on stage known as M.I.A.—was singing her song “20 Dollar.” She had composed this song, which also includes some famous lyrics by the Pixies, during an African tour she had taken for musical inspiration—and her political lyrics proved how she had witnessed the real, war-torn Africa. There was something about her words that tore through me.
...the cost of AK’s up in Africa. Twenty dollars ain’t shit to you, but that’s how much they are…Little boys are acting up. And baby, mamas are going crazy. And leaders all around cracking up.
Card swiped, nozzle inserted, leaving me for my ritual two minutes as I witness the digital screen simultaneously alarming me of the gasoline flowing into my car and of the money streaming out of my account. Gazing up at the gigantic Shell sign over my head, I felt an unrelenting guilt applying pressure to my stomach. I tear my eyes away from the sign and take in my surroundings. The two pumps next to me are also occupied: a twenty-something blonde girl leaning up against her flashy, red BMW convertible, aimlessly chatting with who I can only assume is a friend since she’s speaking with a nasally speed way beyond my own ability; the pump next to her is occupied by a bald, thirty-something male sitting half inside his gargantuan sized Hummer. I can only imagine he’s resting in his seat due to the extended amount of time it probably took him to fill his very own personal Titanic.
…Who made me like this? Was it me and God in co-production? My devil’s on speed dial, every time I take the wrong direction.
I had seen a documentary about Shell’s contribution to the exploitation of the Nigerian population, and that these actions were causing “terrorist groups” to rise against the Nigerian government, but once again, I had caved. But my mind couldn’t help but to wonder: was all of that information true anyways? It couldn’t be as bad as those people were making it out to be. But my gut still told me otherwise.
…sometimes I go lose my mind, and I feel numb…your head will collapse when there’s nothing in it. And you’ll ask yourself: Where is my mind?
I had already told myself I wouldn’t do this again, but as most Americans do, I had also fallen for the seduction of convenience.
My doubts about the authenticity of the information I had learned about Nigeria’s problem couldn’t constitute as an excuse for my actions. I had to educate myself, so I set out to discover for myself what was really going on between Nigeria and Shell. The first resource I turned to was the CIA’s World Factbook, which promises accurate information concerning population and economics on every country in the world. According to this source, Nigeria’s largest natural resource is crude oil (or petroleum), which is eventually used to make gasoline, diesel fuels, ethane, and kerosene. Nigeria is expected to export an average of two and half million barrels of crude oil on a daily basis—each barrel consisting of 42 gallons (Nigeria). This statistic places it as the fifth country in the world for total oil export, only following Saudi Arabia, Russia, Iran, and the United Arab Emirates. But what separates these multi-marketed, developed economies from the economy of Nigeria, is that the Nigeria relies on oil for 80 percent of its budgetary revenues—bringing in almost 20 billion dollars a year (Nigeria).
In a developing country you would assume that this was a great opportunity: oil-rich Nigeria, having the opportunity to export oil for billions of dollars a year, enabling it to create a system for higher development. This could create new roads, build schools, and hopefully stimulate the internal economy, providing more jobs within the country. But unfortunately those scenarios are not one of the statistics representing Nigeria. Instead, ninety-two percent of the population lives on less than two dollars a day (Poverty). The facts don’t add up.
But there’s a third factor: the corrupt business happenings between the oil companies and the federal government of Nigeria. In Nigeria, Shell—and a couple other companies such as Chevron and Mobil—primarily have full reign over the oil reserves, making them the most powerful influence in the nation. The CIA’s Factbook words Nigeria’s situation perfectly, without pointing any fingers: “The government continues to face the daunting task of reforming a petroleum-based economy, whose revenues have been squandered through corruption and mismanagement, and institutionalizing democracy.”
To fully understand the relationship between Nigeria’s federal government and these oil companies, we have to take a historical tour of the region. In 1960, Nigeria finally gained its independence from the United Kingdom after sixty years of colonial rule (Falola 93). The next forty years following only offered political chaos within the country, as it teeter-tottered between years of military rule and instable republics, until democracy finally made ground in 1999 with a new constitution (216). In the early 1960s, during this period of borderline anarchy, the country’s oil wealth was beginning to be fully explored. With the oil boom of the 1970s, Nigeria’s leaders made the prudent decision of joining the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries, opening it to a world willing to pay large bucks for oil, and allowing the country’s wealth to begin flowing in (138). So began the Nigerian leaders’ unhealthy obsession with oil.
The Federal government decided that since the wealth was from the land, the government should handle interactions with the oil companies, making it the only institution to receive oil revenue (Margonelli 240). From there, it would then determine how it was dispersed among the twelve provinces. But even with this oil rush, only the government benefited, leaving the average population to their previous forms of income: agriculture. Upon Nigeria’s independence in 1960, “agricultural products accounted for ninety-seven percent of export revenue,” within the country (Okanta 24). But unfortunately for these blue collar workers, “the oil boom [had] caused an inflationary spiral in the country, and there [had not been] a corresponding increase in the price of such export crops as palm oil and rubber” (25). This economic cause-and-effect began the mass impoverishment of the people in Nigeria, which had once held a prosperous middle class (Falola 138). Before oil wealth was found in the 70s, “the poverty rate was around 25 percent,” but has since climbed to seventy percent; here, “poverty” meaning a daily budget of less than one dollar (Margonelli 252).
Shell’s introduction to the scene has been deep rooted—it even built Nigeria’s first oil well back in 1956, (Okanta 22). Despite the Nigerian government’s blatant corruption, Shell has decided to take full advantage of the situation. In the Niger Delta, the country’s main oil producing region, Shell is considered the largest form of corruption, higher than the irresponsible leaders: “Shell supplies the income to the brutal regime bent on suppressing dissent,” (Okanta 58). It’s estimated that “between 1960 and 1999, Nigerian leaders wasted or stole nearly 400 billion dollars in oil Revenue,” (Rebels). A segment of this fortune was spent on the government’s military regime, which, in polite terms, maintained a form of “population control” in the country. For every revolutionary movement led by the Nigerian minorities who sought an end to the federal government’s corruption—whether the movement was peaceful or violent—a large military counter-force has taken place, to keep the people in line. After an attempt led to create an independent Niger Delta region in 1966, the “Nigerian army showed up in boats provided by Shell and blew the revolutionaries away,” (Margonelli 242). And this behavior is still in activation. It’s been estimated by international human rights groups, that “nearly a dozen Delta communities have been destroyed with a mixture of killing, firebombing, and rape,” (242). Shortly put, Shell has certainly created a monstrous name for itself in the communities of Nigeria.
All of this information had confirmed my prior knowledge; Shell was knowingly dipping its hands into a torn country, as if were some chubby, red-cheeked boy raiding a stuffed refrigerator. But, for entertainment’s sake, I decided I would check out Shell’s website to see if I could dig anything up. The first thing that jumped out at me on the homepage was a blue bubble of information, titled “Innovation.” Apparently, this blue bubble was making me aware that Shell strove to develop much-needed technology “to squeeze more [oil] out,” of reservoirs (Shell). Somehow, this didn’t impress me. But as I searched every page, I discovered that the website was immaculate; its hands had been washed of all corrupt business agreements. Instead, colorful bubbles told me of how great the company was. According to the book Where Vultures Feast: Shell, Human Rights, and Oil in the Niger Delta, “Shell employs a sophisticated array of damage-control experts, scenario planners, lobbyists, and spin doctors to present the image of a caring, thoughtful, and socially responsible company to the outside world,” (44). By this website’s appearance, not a single consumer would predict that this company had slyly gone against a 1979 OPEC embargo, which outlawed the sale of oil to South Africa (48). This shady interaction supplied oil to the apartheid regime, which allowed the Shell Company to benefit greatly.
I maneuvered the website to the “station locator.” I was interested in how many Shell stations were actually located near me. Since I moved to Tallahassee three months ago, I had realized the hefty number of Shell Stations at my convenience; there were multiple stations on every major road I drove on. According to the Shell Station Finder, there are about twenty-four Shell gas stations located in Tallahassee. To put you into perspective of this ridiculously large quantity, let me point out that there are only sixteen McDonalds in the same town. I decided to go to the Shell Station closest to my apartment, which was under a mile away, to see if any of the station workers could explain any of the information I had discovered.
Upon stepping out of my car, I looked down the busy street that was being abused by Tallahassee’s bumper-to-bumper traffic. From where I was standing, I could see another large Shell sign down the road, signaling for another station not even two blocks away. I took a breath. I wanted to confront the monstrous person who ran this station—and who would work for this negligent company. But I was shocked when I met the affable, calm and collected Eddie Navi, who was the store manager, and only working employee. He styled average college-aged clothing, and often spoke more animatedly with his hands than with his rough Middle Eastern accent. To him, this business was nothing but a headache—full of gratuitous drama. He began working here as a manager because his friend, also the store’s owner, had offered him a job, and in his own words, “it helps [him] pay for college.” His temperament radiated openness, so when I asked him if he knew where his station’s gasoline came from, he simply searched through some paperwork kept in a file folder and verified that it came from a refinery somewhere in Georgia. Beyond this location, he had no clue. He informed me that this particular gas station sold around three-thousand gallons of gasoline per day. This means if all the Tallahassee Shell stations averaged the same output, about seventy-two-thousand gallons were being sold a day at these Shell stations every day.
And then Eddie began dishing some juice to me about Shell. He called them strict and nasty business people, who only really care about image and sales. Eddie had apparently been informed by strict corporate guidelines that he should have nothing to do with the outside appearance of the station. Instead, the pumps would be decorated with the fresh advertisements Shells executives had designed, and only the Shell logo sign and gas prices were to remain visible from the road. Everything on the inside of the store, however, was individually owned, keeping Shell only about the gasoline and diesel. Eddie told me that Circle K and Shell had recently teamed up, creating the perfect duo—the Circle K store on the inside, and the oil pumping business on the outside. But even with this type teaming up, the stores’ owners received very little. Out of the seven stations Eddie’s boss owns in Tallahassee, his Shell station receives the least income—only receiving three cents for every gallon sold. This means, even with three thousand gallons sold a day, only ninety bucks is paid to him from his business with Shell.
After my meeting with Eddie, it was clear to me that only the people at the top of the Shell operation were reaping any real benefits. And we’re not talking pocket change here: “every year Shell competes with Exxon for the title of the world’s biggest oil company,” and Shell has also been deemed by some as “the most profitable company in the World,” (Okonta 43).
But because of this company’s unethical business arrangements, the Niger Delta region of Nigeria has now developed into a full-blown, undeveloped warzone. Violent Rebel groups armed with A.K. 47s are quickly popping up throughout the wetlands of the country, planning attacks on both the government and the oil companies. Oil workers, sent from across the world to work Nigeria’s rich oil lands, are being kidnapped for ransom by these rebels (Rebels). These acts have been declared as terrorism by many global institutions, but who says this isn’t just a waving of an extremely large white flag? Lisa Margonelli witnessed this broad cry for help during her visit to Nigeria when an elder man pleaded, “we are happy you’re white. You will see and go directly so that people will come to help us. They should come directly,” (244). This plea aimed towards privileged Americans was heard in the midst of the most hellish of settings: low and horizontal fire flares, caused by leaking natural gas, consume this area of the Delta. Supposedly, these flares are visible from space; yet they still haven't received any real attention.
With the Royal Dutch Shell Company in control of more than forty percent of Nigeria’s oil wealth, and another forty percent in the hands of Mobil and Chevron, there seems to be nowhere for the Nigerian people to turn, as these companies will continue their exploitation with the corrupt Nigerian government (Okonta 54).
But there is something that we, as educated Americans, can do. According to The U.S. Department of Energy’s Energy Information Administration, each American consumes daily an average of three gallons, which is fifteen times the amount of the global average (Demand). This isn’t about over-consumption, but rather about the importance of educated consumption. We are the global consumers of this oil, and our choices affect others on a whole different continent than our own. If you’re still not convinced enough to consider changing your gas station route, let us look at my final statistic, offered by our very own Central Intelligence Agency: forty-five percent of Nigeria’s business exports are done with the United States. That places Americans as the primary consumers of this exploited oil, whether we buy gas from Shell, Chevron or Mobil.
With policy makers such as former vice president, Dick Cheney, who promised that “West Africa is expected to be one of the fastest-growing sources of oil and gas for the American market,” it’s our duty to take affirmative action, as responsible global citizens, since our very own leaders aren’t setting moral standards for us (Cheney). Whether that entails going a mile out of your way to find another gas station for your daily route, educating yourself about where your gas really comes from and who it’s indirectly affecting, or merely making others aware of these statistics. It’s an individual act that can create a movement. It’s up to you: where is your mind?
Works Cited
Cheney, Dick. U.S. National Energy Policy Report. Issue brief. 2001. Print.
"Demand." U.S. Department of Energy. Energy Information Administration. Web. 13 Oct. 2009.
Falola, Toyin. The History of Nigeria. Westport: Greenwood Press, 1999. Print.
Margonelli, Lisa. Oil on the Brain. New York: Random House Inc., 2007. Print.
Navi, Eddie. "Shell Station Interview." Personal interview. 16 Oct. 2009.
"Nigeria." World Factbook. Central Intelligence Agency. Web. 13 Oct. 2009.
Okonta, Ike, and Oronto Douglas. Where Vultures Feast: Shell, Human Rights, and Oil in the Niger Delta. New York: Sierra Club, 2001. Print.
"Poverty Resource: Nigeria." Earth Trends. World Resources Institute. Web. 13 Oct. 2009.
Rebels in the Pipeline. Prod. Darren M. Foster. Perf. Marianna van Zeller. Current Television's Vanguard Journalism, 2008. Documentary.
Shell International B.V. Shell. Web. 14 Oct. 2009.
