The struggle for the rightful ownership and benefit of oil wells located in the borderlands of Edo and Delta States is neither a trivial territorial disagreement nor a community squabble. It is a matter of economic justice, political integrity, and institutional accountability.

At the heart of the dispute lies a dangerous pattern of quiet expropriation, fueled by federal inertia, administrative ambiguity, and a glaring failure of representation. If there were ever a time for Edo State to reclaim its oil wells, that time is now.

When Shell Petroleum Development Company (SPDC) operated in the disputed areas under Oil Mining Lease (OML) 40, from 1993 until 2010, the arrangement was clear: royalties were paid to Edo State, and corporate social responsibility (CSR) initiatives flowed to Edo host communities like Opuama, Polobubo (Tsekelewu), and the Egbema axis.

The reason was simple — these communities fell well within Edo’s administrative boundaries, and there was no ambiguity about where the oil was being drilled or who deserved the benefits.

That changed drastically after 2010 when Seplat Energy Plc, an indigenous company, acquired SPDC’s 45% stake in OML 40. Seplat’s entry into the equation marked the beginning of a slow but deliberate erosion of Edo’s benefits from the wells.

This was not merely a result of operational handover; it was a culmination of years of political complacency, boundary disputes, and federal complicity in skewing recognition to favor Delta State.

The turning point can be traced to two developments. First was the intensification of boundary disputes following Nigeria’s return to democracy in 1999. Delta State began asserting claims over oil-bearing communities traditionally affiliated with Edo.

Second was the failure of the National Boundary Commission and related institutions to resolve these disputes definitively. This administrative vacuum allowed for interpretations of maps and coordinates that began to shift recognition — not based on historical or cultural affiliations, but on political expediency and lobbying.

Unlike Shell, which had deep-rooted relationships and a structured CSR approach tied to community realities, Seplat took a more bureaucratic route.

It leaned heavily on federal guidelines from institutions like the Department of Petroleum Resources (now NUPRC) and the Revenue Mobilisation Allocation and Fiscal Commission (RMAFC).

These agencies, in turn, began recognizing Delta State as the primary oil-producing jurisdiction based on politically tainted maps and ill-defined wellhead locations. This directly redirected the 13% derivation benefits — meant for oil-producing states — from Edo to Delta.

The implications for Edo State and its oil-rich communities have been devastating. Communities once identified as hosts were suddenly cut off from CSR programs, social investments, and employment quotas.

They watched helplessly as Seplat’s CSR shifted focus to communities now reclassified as Delta hosts. This has bred resentment, fostered protests, and created a deep sense of marginalization among Edo people — especially in Orhionmwon and its environs.

Let us be clear: royalties are not paid by Seplat or any oil company directly to state governments. They are paid into the Federation Account, and distributed based on derivation principles.

This means that who gets what depends entirely on which state the RMAFC identifies as the legal oil-producing entity. The shift in recognition, therefore, is not just technical — it is economic robbery carried out under the guise of institutional protocol.

More damning, however, is the apparent inaction by successive Edo State governments. After SPDC’s exit in 2010, there was little to no sustained pushback from Benin City.

There was no aggressive legal action, no persistent boundary clarification, and no visible pressure on the federal government to uphold Edo’s interests. Without gazetted boundaries or vocal political champions, Edo’s oil wells were gradually — and silently — appropriated.

But history is not destiny. The current administration of Governor Monday Okpebholo, with his Deputy Dennis Idahosa, has a chance to break this cycle.

The recent field verification exercise by EdoGIS confirming the location of the wells within Edo territory is a powerful first step. Now, the government must escalate this process into full-blown diplomatic, legal, and legislative advocacy.

They must engage the Nigerian Upstream Petroleum Regulatory Commission (NUPRC), the National Boundary Commission, and RMAFC with unambiguous demands and evidence.

Edo State’s representatives at the National Assembly must also wake up from their slumber. They should move motions, initiate public hearings, and put pressure on relevant federal bodies to do what is just.

The Edo State House of Assembly must pass strong resolutions affirming the state’s ownership and demanding restitution for years of diverted revenue and lost CSR opportunities.

Above all, this moment calls for unity — across party lines, communities, and institutions. What is at stake is not just money, but fairness, dignity, and the right of Edo people to benefit from the resources under their soil. If Akwa Ibom could reclaim its 76 oil wells from Cross River, then Edo can — and must — reclaim its own.

This is a battle that Edo must fight with the urgency of a state that knows its future is being stolen in broad daylight. The facts are clear, the laws can be tested, and the people are ready. It is not just a matter of economic necessity — it is a moral imperative.

It’s about time Edo reclaims its oil wells.