In a dramatic escalation of hostilities within Nigeria’s maritime sector, Hadiza Bala Usman—Special Adviser on Policy Coordination to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and former Managing Director of the Nigerian Ports Authority (NPA)—has publicly accused Alhaji Abdul Samad Rabiu, President of BUA Group, of violating a long-standing concession agreement over the Rivers State Port.
The confrontation, first ignited when Usman terminated BUA’s lease in late 2016, resurfaced recently in Rabiu’s book, “Two Years of President Tinubu: A Business Perspective,” prompting a scathing rebuttal from Usman that threatens to expose deep fractures in the nation’s regulatory framework and private sector confidence.
The stakes could not be higher: Rivers Port, once a bustling gateway for eastern Nigeria’s oil and agricultural exports, now stands at a crossroads of political intrigue and commercial jeopardy.
Rabiu’s narrative, as published in his latest volume, paints a picture of abrupt and unexplained hostility towards BUA’s Port Harcourt operations.
He recounts how, after nearly a decade of compliant service under a concession agreement with the NPA, his group’s terminal was suddenly deprived of its operating rights:
“One day, we woke up to a letter stating that the concession had been revoked, the terminal shut down, and the lease agreement terminated. There was no warning, no issue, no conflict… We later discovered that the managing director of the NPA at the time decided to close the business, simply because our operations were competing with those of her friend. She wanted to impress her friend. That was the only reason.”
Such allegations, if accepted, hint at a reckless abuse of regulatory power for personal or partisan gain—a charge that, in Nigeria’s notoriously opaque patronage networks, resonates like a clarion call to investigators and entrepreneurs alike.
Rabiu’s account also lauds President Tinubu for allegedly dismantling the “arbitrary shutdowns” that once plagued private concerns, implying that under the current administration, businesses now operate in a more predictable environment—a stark contrast to BUA’s experience under Usman.
However, Usman’s rejoinder is equally blistering and rooted in documented compliance failures. According to Usman, BUA Group was forewarned of its contractual breaches long before her tenure as NPA MD officially began.
She emphasises that in February 2016—ten years after being granted the concession—BUA had yet to commence reconstruction of Berths 5–8, despite explicit provisions requiring the works to start within 90 days of handover.
A “Notice of Default” dated 11 February 2016, followed by further correspondence on 27 July 2016, clearly outlined BUA’s non-compliance with the approved development plan.
These warnings formed the legal basis for the subsequent termination notice issued in November 2016.
Yet BUA disputes this version of events, insisting that the NPA failed in its own fundamental obligations.
In a statement issued to the press, the Group asserted that the NPA neglected to dredge the port channels and mend the quay apron—critical tasks that were unambiguously stipulated in the same lease agreement.
Without navigable channels or a stable quay apron, BUA argues, any terminal expansion or berth rehabilitation was rendered futile.
BUA further points to the arbitration clause within the lease, which explicitly directs disputes to be resolved by arbitration, not unilateral termination.
In line with that clause, BUA secured an injunction from the Federal High Court in Lagos, stalling NPA’s intended takeover until the matter could be arbitrated.
Analysts say that this tug-of-war leaves more than corporate reputations hanging in the balance.
At its peak, Rivers Port handled over 1.65 million tonnes of cargo in a single half-year—signalling its potential as an eastern corridor rival to Lagos’s congested terminals.
Yet, owing to years of underinvestment and silting, ship calls at Rivers and other eastern ports have dwindled; existing seaports remain grossly under-utilised compared to their designed capacity (with national container throughput dipping from 1.68 million TEUs in 2022 to 1.57 million in 2023).
At a time when Nigeria loses approximately $14 billion annually due to congestion and inefficiencies in the maritime sector, every functional berth matters.
The dispute also carries severe socio-economic implications. BUA’s terminal, valued at roughly $400 million, was projected to support up to 1,000 direct jobs and countless indirect roles across haulage, logistics, and downstream manufacturing linked to the adjacent flour, sugar, and pasta facilities.
By February 2019, just ahead of decommissioning, stakeholders feared that up to ₦500,000 in monthly government revenue (and as much as $85,000–105,000 in monthly concession fees) could be forfeited, compounding Port Harcourt’s declining status as a vibrant industrial hub.
Indeed, Rivers State, once Nigeria’s second-largest contributor to national GDP (estimated at $51.5 billion in 2021), contends with high unemployment and dwindling investor confidence.
Critics argue that the conflict exposes a deeper malaise in Nigeria’s governance of critical infrastructure: where political allegiances and personal vendettas can override contractual sanctity, and where regulatory bodies, such as the NPA, may overreach without accountability.
In an era when President Tinubu’s “Renewed Hope Agenda” highlights ambitious targets to revamp Port Harcourt’s refining capacity and expand multimodal transport links—initiatives purportedly designed to attract over $10 billion in oil-and-gas investments—the BUA-Usman clash casts a shadow over Nigeria’s commitment to a predictable business environment.
If concessionaires cannot rely on the sanctity of due process, foreign and local investors may look elsewhere, jeopardising the very economic resurgence Tinubu claims to champion.
Yet, with litigation and arbitration already in motion, there is a sliver of hope that Nigeria’s courts and dispute-resolution mechanisms can ultimately deliver justice.
If arbitration proceeds impartially, and if both parties adhere to its outcome, it could restore a measure of faith in contractual order and reignite interest in Nigeria’s eastern ports.
Still, the urgency is palpable: every month the terminal remains offline risks exacerbating supply-chain bottlenecks, stalling job creation, and dragging Rivers State further into economic despondency.
As port scholarships fade and berths lie idle, many now ask: can Nigeria’s regulatory ecosystem evolve beyond arbitrary shutdowns to foster true public-private partnership?
For now, the iron fist of accountability must contend with the velvet glove of political influence.
BUA’s resilience will hinge on the arbitration outcome, whereas the NPA—and by extension, the Federal Government—must contend with mounting criticism over selective enforcement and perceived overreach.
Until the courts issue their verdict, Rivers Port remains a geopolitical chess piece, with livelihoods and national revenue hanging in the balance.
Sensational though these claims may be, they illuminate an uncomfortable truth: in Nigeria, even the most established concession can unravel overnight when ambition and authority collide.
Additional reporting from Taiwo Adebowale & Kalada Jumbo
