From Burutu to London: Can Nigeria’s new port deal avoid past mistakes?

For any nation, ports are more than concrete quays and container cranes. They are the arteries of global trade, handling roughly 70 per cent of the world’s merchandise by value. From the ancient harbours of the Indus Valley to Singapore’s automated terminals, maritime infrastructure has always been a cornerstone of economic power and national security. […]

For any nation, ports are more than concrete quays and container cranes. They are the arteries of global trade, handling roughly 70 per cent of the world’s merchandise by value. From the ancient harbours of the Indus Valley to Singapore’s automated terminals, maritime infrastructure has always been a cornerstone of economic power and national security. In Nigeria, the story of ports is also the story of development—colonial beginnings, post‑independence stagnation, and now a pivotal moment marked by a £746 million (about N1.45‑N1.5 trillion) loan from the United Kingdom to rehabilitate the Apapa and Tin Can Island ports. Yet, unlike in mature democracies where such a commitment would spark months of parliamentary debate, this deal was sealed during President Bola Tinubu’s March 2026 state visit to the UK with little public scrutiny. For ordinary Nigerians, who will ultimately repay this debt, the silence is unsettling.

Nigeria’s maritime history is rich and, in some respects, bitterly ironic. The country’s first modern port was not Apapa but Burutu, established in 1887 in the present Delta State—making it the oldest such facility in Africa. For decades, Burutu, Warri, Koko and Sapele formed a vibrant eastern port network that competed fiercely with Lagos. Yet, as the decades passed, federal investment drifted westward. The 1954 Ports Act created the Nigerian Ports Authority (NPA) to manage six major port complexes, but by the turn of the millennium, congestion and inefficiency had become endemic. The landmark 2003 port reform introduced the “landlord model”, transferring terminal operations to private concessionaires while the NPA retained regulation. Private capital breathed new life into the sector, but the underlying infrastructure—especially at Apapa and Tin Can Island—continued to deteriorate.

Today, Nigeria’s ports are paradoxically both vital and vulnerable. The NPA projects revenues of N1.28 trillion for 2025, a 40 per cent jump from 2024’s N894.86 billion. Yet the agency cannot fund its own renewal because of excessive central government deductions. Hence the attraction of the £746 million UK Export Finance facility, coordinated by Citibank, which will supply British steel and expertise while modernising the two Lagos ports. The deal is hailed by officials as a strategic partnership that will strengthen Nigeria’s position as a West African maritime hub. But the absence of basic transparency has left citizens in the dark about the loan’s interest rate, repayment timeline, and whether sovereign guarantees were issued. Converting the figure to naira makes it tangible: Nigerians are on the hook for roughly (N1.45‑1.5 trillion,) with at least 20 per cent of the project value (some £149 million) required to be sourced from British suppliers—a condition that will channel scarce public resources to foreign firms.

Even more troubling is the lack of legislative engagement. When the Minister of Marine and Blue Economy, Adegboyega Oyetola, presented a N10.5 billion budget for 2026, he called it “grossly inadequate”. Yet the National Assembly has held no public hearings on the £746 million loan that is supposed to fill the gap. There has been no debate on the floor about the terms, no questioning of how the project will interact with the terminal concessions awarded after 2003. Concessionaires have invested heavily in those terminals. How will massive rehabilitation works affect their operations? Will there be closures, diversions, or cost overruns? Will the government renegotiate concession agreements, and if so, on what basis? These questions remain unanswered, leaving stakeholders—from shipping lines to freight forwarders—to guess at the disruptions ahead.

Meanwhile, the concentration of this investment in Lagos has revived long‑standing accusations of nepotism in infrastructure allocation. For communities in the South‑South, the neglect of Burutu, Warri and Koko is a painful reminder of how federal projects have historically favoured the South West, often to the benefit of political and commercial elites from that region. According to some estimates, over 20,000 jobs were lost when the eastern ports fell silent. The NPA’s current leadership has begun to reverse that trend with emergency dredging of the Escravos Channel, new navigational aids, and the deployment of security boats. Burutu is finally seeing underwater surveys and quay restorations. Local leaders report that for the first time in decades, they are being consulted and their contractors employed. Yet these efforts are not part of the UK‑funded rehabilitation, and without a clear timeline for completion, the perception of nepotism will persist, further eroding public trust in the fairness of national development policy.

Another promising development comes from the private sector. In January 2026, President Tinubu gave the green light for  Dangote’s proposed Olokola port in Ogun State—a deep‑water facility that, when completed, will be able to handle the world’s largest vessels. Crucially, it is financed with private capital, sparing the federal treasury further debt. Sited within the Olokola Free Trade Zone and integrated with Dangote’s refinery and fertiliser complex, the port aims to exceed Nigeria LNG’s export capacity and decongest the overstretched Lagos ports. Its location, roughly 100 kilometres from Lagos, also makes it more accessible to industries in the South West and North Central regions, especially when paired with the revived Itakpe‑Warri rail line and other rail connections that the Nigerian Railway Corporation says are now a “priority”.

For a nation with Africa’s largest economy, the strategic importance of world‑class ports cannot be overstated. The Lekki Deep Seaport, already operational, demonstrates what public‑private partnerships can achieve. The planned rehabilitation of Apapa and Tin Can Island could similarly boost efficiency, shorten cargo dwell times, and lower the cost of goods—if it is executed transparently and without the governance deficits that have plagued other infrastructure projects. To build public confidence, the government must immediately disclose the full loan terms, including interest rates and repayment schedules. The National Assembly must convene public hearings before any funds are disbursed, inviting stakeholders, experts, terminal operators, and civil society to scrutinise the plan. A clear coordination strategy between the new contractors and existing concessionaires must be published, detailing how disruptions will be minimised. And the federal government should commit to a concrete timeline for the full restoration of the eastern ports—starting with Burutu, Africa’s oldest modern port—to demonstrate that the national port network is being built for all Nigerians, not just those in the commercial capital.

Ports are indeed national assets, but their value lies not in concrete alone. They represent a nation’s ability to connect with the world, to create jobs, and to distribute prosperity equitably. The £746 million loan is a significant opportunity, but it also carries a heavy responsibility. If the project proceeds without legislative oversight, transparent terms, and a credible plan for inclusive development, it risks becoming another symbol of lost trust. If, however, the government rises to the moment and embraces openness, it can turn this single investment into a catalyst for a truly national maritime transformation—one that honours the legacy of Burutu, leverages private initiative like Olokola, and finally gives every region a stake in Nigeria’s blue economy. The cranes that will soon swing over Apapa and Tin Can Island should be seen not as instruments of centralisation or nepotism, but as part of a broader network that lifts the entire nation. That story begins with the transparency that Nigerians deserve.