seamen’s rights. The infighting that characterized the union in the 1950s engrossed both the leadership and dissenting factions, and left little time to effectively challenge the shipping companies. According to Hakeem Tijani, leadership of the seamen’s union continually changed hands, as “existing officials were thrown out of office through the same methods of intrigue which they themselves had employed to get into power.”88 The shipping companies and the colonial government followed the conflicts almost with amusement. One government review from the period stated, “The record of the Union’s activities over the years makes a most pathetic reading. Almost from its inception, there have always been instances of endless strife, distrust, intrigues, tribal discrimination, police arrests, litigation, rifts of members into factions, one faction trying at one time or the other, and often quite successfully, to overthrow the other from office, and to install itself into power. No set of officials of the union would appear to have held office happily together for any reasonable length of time.”89
The self-serving practices of the union leadership created additional obstacles standing in the way of effective organizing among seamen. Union officers routinely attempted to leverage their proximity to the shipping company in order to advance their own interests. This could be seen in a report from an Elder Dempster official in 1958 following his meeting with President Ekore. According to the report, President Ekore complained of his low salary from the union, and claimed that he would be far better off back at sea. Ekore asked the shipping company if he could be allowed to supply chickens to Elder Dempster vessels as a ship chandler, thereby earning more income. The conflict of interest was noted by the local official: “We think this was the most important point of the meeting so far as Ekore was concerned. We pointed out that, under the present circumstances, this would not be desirable and that we already had an efficient Ships’ Chandler.”90
The focus of the leadership constituted a colossal divide between the concerns of union officials and the everyday experiences of seamen on ships. This divide was partly unavoidable, as the unique nature of seamen’s work took them away from Lagos and union headquarters for most of the time they were under contract. On the other hand, officers based in Lagos were either Westernized elites posing as professional trade unionists and never actually employed as seamen, or seamen who had been denied work due to disciplinary actions taken against them on board or criminal activity such as smuggling or drug trafficking. Thus, the gap separating the rank-and-file seamen from the leadership and decision-making organs of the union was exceptionally wide. In a May 1959 address to the union, President Ekore described the problematic situation: “The Seamen’s Union is not like any other and why trouble always finds a way easy, is because when a resolution has passed and [been] adopted by a handful of members ashore without the knowledge of members at sea, on arrival they will declare their stand of ignorance and thereby seek to oppose the adopted resolution which actually is right.”91
The internal conflicts in the union were attributed time and again to tribalism, as competition for leadership positions and resources often fueled ethnic tensions between members. As Ekore said in his address, “From its origin, there had been no time of peace and understanding among [the union’s] members. . . . [A] fact that lay low the glory and reputation of the Union is a Tribal Hatred and discrimination among its members. The daily struggle is, I want me Tribe’s man in the office.”92 According to the chief steward of the MV Aureol, the conflict was mainly between coastal groups originating in eastern and western Nigeria, as he reported to Elder Dempster officials: “The bone of contention in the Union is Tribal rivalry of who are to hold Office, at present it is dominated by Eboe and Ejaw tribes who come from the Eastern region, and it would appear that the Warri and Calabar people are objecting to all the officers being from these two tribes. . . . I do not anticipate any upset with the men, it is just that being mostly illiterate, they can be so easy led up the Garden Path, and that would seem what is happening.”93
While union officials busied themselves with power struggles and political intrigue, everyday seamen continued to confront the tough realities of onboard discrimination and poor working conditions. It has been seen that seamen endured grueling, and at times perilous, working lives on board colonial ships. They worked long hours in jobs that were demeaning, physically difficult, and dangerous. They suffered from wage discrimination in the colonial shipping industry, and lacked the organizational means for effectively improving their conditions of work. Journeys took them away from their families for months or years, and their wives back home had to endure the challenges of maintaining a household in their husbands’ long absences. In addition, Nigerian seamen suffered from racism on board ships and in ports of call, but their protests against this mistreatment fell on deaf ears. The union leadership, preoccupied with Lagos-based politics, remained largely useless and irrelevant in organizing and initiating seamen’s protests, and did little to address the sources of their discontent.
But as will be seen, seamen did not wait around for the union to address their needs. Rather, they employed a full range of options and leveraged the skills that were available to them in their unique position as seamen in order to improve the conditions of their lives. Instead of accepting their disempowerment, seamen continually exploited the various opportunities that presented themselves on each voyage across the sea. The next chapter will examine entrepreneurial efforts, cultural alliances, and social ideologies of resistance that seamen mobilized to meet basic needs and better their lives.
2
Seamen and the Cosmopolitan Imaginary
The social imaginary is not a set of ideas; rather it is what enables, through making sense of, the practices of a society.*
—Charles Taylor
WHEN COSMOS NIAGWAN was a youth in the village of Shendam in northern Nigeria during the colonial era, he dreamed of becoming a truck driver. As he recalled, “My idea was to do something manly,” and he envisioned himself behind the wheel of a larger trailer truck. This plan for his future quickly changed one night while he was still in secondary school. The colonial Information Service arrived in Shendam with a mobile cinema, and he went along with the rest of the village to watch a film projected onto a makeshift screen set up in front of the local chief’s house. During the newsreels, he saw images of new trailer trucks arriving in Nigeria and being unloaded from a large cargo ship. As he recalled, he was suddenly struck with the realization that a ship is much larger than a truck. Impressed with the immense size of these seagoing vessels, he told himself, “Now THAT is what I am going to drive!”1 As soon as he finished secondary school, he set out on a journey that indeed culminated in his commanding of ships. Niagwan began his career as a seaman with the Nigerian Port Authority (NPA) in 1963 as a marine officer cadet. That year, he was sent by the NPA for study and training at the King Edward VII Nautical College in London, and he worked with Elder Dempster until he earned his second mate certificate of competency in 1967. Following his formal studies, he worked for seven years with the Black Star Line of Ghana and then moved to the Bangladesh Shipping Corporation for two more years before returning to work for the Nigerian National Shipping Line (NNSL) in 1987.
Captain Niagwan’s journey to becoming a seaman began with a set of social imaginaries that organized his view of the world and grounded his course of action. His recounting of the process that brought him to seafaring began with a clear vision of his own potent masculinity and an unhindered sense of possibility. When considering the obstacles that might have stood in the way of the son of a farmer born eight hundred kilometers from the sea in northern Nigeria under the shadow of British colonial rule, his recounting of how he came to command ships appears all the more extraordinary. The sense of empowerment and opportunity revealed in his story is a crucial starting point for any investigation into Captain Niagwan’s life trajectory. Indeed, for most of the Nigerian seamen whose stories are presented here, the journey to seafaring began with an anticipation of opportunity and an openness to adventure. Although many had never left Nigeria before becoming seamen, they were keenly attuned to the prospects that transnational
