The Accidental Public Servant

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The Accidental Public Servant Page 20

by El-Rufai, Nasir


  was once upon a time known as BP Nigeria. President Obasanjo nationalized the company in 1978 as

  a retaliatory manoeuvre against Margaret Thatcher's British government for allegedly selling our oil

  to South Africa during the apartheid era and changed the name to African Petroleum (AP). For some

  20-odd years the Nigerian government, through its national oil company, the Nigerian National

  Petroleum Corporation (NNPC), owned 100 per cent of the company, with a minority portion of it

  subsequently listed on the stock exchange. In 1999, the BPE plan was to sell 40 per cent of the

  company to an investing group that would also have management control.

  We advertised the sale and received responses from a handful of companies interested in

  participating in the bidding process: BP South Africa, a company called Sadiq Petroleum, and a third

  company which then bowed out before we even got underway. Sadiq Petroleum was a Nigerian

  company owned by a man named Peter Okocha, a very close friend of Vice President, Atiku

  Abubakar. Both BP South Africa and Sadiq Petroleum passed our pre-qualification hurdles without

  any difficulty. However, just before we began the bidding process, the representative of BP South

  Africa whose task was to conduct the due diligence – a Nigerian – surprised all of us by submitting a

  curtly-worded letter withdrawing from the bidding process. In a meeting with me, he explained that

  they were going to write a more detailed letter explaining their withdrawal but there were at least

  two reasons that he could cite up front. The first reason was that the health, safety and environmental

  (HSE) standards of the company were so poor that if BP South Africa bought the company, upgrading

  the company to be aligned with BP’s global environmental standards would cost so much money that

  the bid price they would have to submit to justify it would be so low that they were going to lose the

  bid anyway. This was the official reason the forthcoming letter would detail. The second reason,

  which would not be mentioned in the letter, or anywhere, really, outside of our private conversation,

  was quite disturbing:

  “In addition to this reason that we intend to make official, off the record, since you have been so

  helpful to us, you need to know that African Petroleum has a huge financial hole in its accounts of

  more than $20 million. At least, some twenty million dollars have been systematically stolen from the

  company. We discovered this while conducting our due diligence. The money is reflected in the

  books as income but it does not exist anywhere in cash or assets, and was never ever there.”

  I took a moment to digest this. “Wow. Can you give me the financial due diligence report which

  reveals that?”

  He promised to send it to me as a favour and 'unofficially'. Then he disappeared and the next time I

  saw him was about four years later at an oil and gas conference in London. He had moved to another

  major oil company, and explained that there was no way he could have shared the report with me

  then. Even though he failed to send me the report, I had the unconfirmed information in my

  consciousness. In the meantime, we ended up with a single bid from Sadiq Petroleum. Aware of this

  new information about AP's finances, and because it was our very first ‘core investor’ transaction, a

  single bidder situation would send the wrong signal, particularly if that single bid came from a friend

  of the vice president. We therefore decided to be cautious because if there is only one bid, there can

  only be one winner, which would defeat the entire purpose of competitive bidding at this early,

  critical stage of our programme. I consulted with the chairman of the privatization council’s technical

  committee, Mr Akin Kekere-Ekun, who agreed with me that we should abort the bid process, re-

  advertise the sale of the company and re-bid at a future date. Without informing any of the BPE staff

  or council members, I went with Akin to see the vice-president.

  “Mr Vice-President, we have ended up with only one bid. Our recommendation would be to cancel

  the auction and advertise again at a future date.”

  “But why? You went through all the required steps,” he asked.

  “Yes,” Akin said, “but you know; if we end up with only one bid and the winner is your friend, it will

  look like it was all pre-arranged, so it is not in your interest as the chairman of the privatization

  council for us to go ahead with this.”

  I joined Akin Kekere-Ekun in weighing in along similar lines, and Atiku agreed with both of us, that

  we should cancel and rebid in the near future. He suggested that we bring the matter to the

  privatization council for discussion and ratification.

  Quite honestly, to me, at the time (and indeed throughout most of my time in BPE), Atiku came across

  as a fairly objective person for accepting the recommendation. After the council approved the

  cancellation of the bid process, the vice-president made some comments before the council that struck

  me as quite strange but commendable for its openness.

  “I am happy the council has approved the cancellation of this process and we particularly appreciate

  the efforts of the chairman of the technical committee and the director-general,”– that was me – “for

  having the courage of conviction to bring this recommendation to the council.” He continued, “Let me

  tell you a story. Just before this council meeting started, the president called me and said one of the

  members of this council, and he was not going to reveal who it was, went to him yesterday and said,

  ‘Mr President, Sadiq is the same name in Arabic as Abubakar. So Sadiq Petroleum is owned by the

  vice-president, whose name happens to be Atiku Abubakar.’ One of the members, one of the people

  sitting here, went to the president and said I owned this company. I hope that person will go back to

  the president and say that I presided over the cancellation of an open and fair process which this

  company would have undoubtedly won.”

  Everybody was silent. We started looking at people and began suspecting who may have said what.

  God forgive me, but I thought it was a certain cranky member of the council that I did not get along

  with. It was not until many years later, at some point that President Obasanjo and I were between

  quarrels that I learned who told him the story: it was not any member of the council – it was another

  senior government official familiar with Arabic names. Indeed, in the Islamic world, it is true that

  Abubakar and Sadiq are interchangeable names, but Abubakar was not Atiku’s name but his father’s.

  Months later, we re-advertised African Petroleum for sale. We again received an expression of

  interest from Sadiq Petroleum, as well as from Consolidated Oil, which is owned by Mike Adenuga.

  We went through the pre-qualification process and Sadiq Petroleum submitted a much higher bid

  price than Consolidated Oil, so Sadiq ended up buying the 40% stake afterall.

  But this time, with the fore-knowledge of suspicions about Sadiq's ownership, we decided to conduct

  more extensive investigations into the company to accompany the memo to the council. We found that

  Sadiq Petroleum was incorporated in late 1980s or thereabouts and that the original subscribers were

  Peter Okocha and his family members, including his son, Sadiq Okocha, among other names. BPE’s

  lawyers obtained the original incorporation documents and looked at
all the changes filed in

  directorships and ownership of the company’s shares over the decade of the company’s existence.

  Atiku Abubakar did not feature even once, at any time in the history of the company as a shareholder

  or director. In fact, we found out where the Sadiq name came from - the son of Peter Okocha. It may

  well be that the son was named in honour of Atiku’s deceased father, a practice common in our

  culture between friends, [31] but found nothing more to establish a factual nexus between Atiku and

  the company.

  Our memo to the council concluded accordingly and noted that the fact that the chairman or owner of

  the company happened to be a friend of the vice-president's should not disqualify him from bidding

  for privatization assets. The guidelines for the privatization had been published and did not exclude

  friends of council members from buying shares or privatization assets. Under the rules and regulations

  (and our self-imposed ethics), only the vice-president, council members and BPE staff were

  disqualified from bidding on or buying any assets. Any other person, Nigerian or foreign, had a legal

  right to bid if technically qualified. In fact, technically, even the president could purchase any

  privatization asset since he was not a member of the Privatization Council or within the decision loop

  of the divestiture process. I made a very passionate case for approving the transaction and it was

  approved without much comment. After we approved the transaction and announced it, Obasanjo

  called and asked me to see him.

  “I hear that you have given AP to Sadiq Petroleum. I got the papers,” he said. “I have seen all your

  arguments, you’ve done a very good job, but you know, are you sure that there is nothing and no-one

  behind this company?”

  “I can’t be sure of anything that is behind the company, sir,” I said. “I can only deal with facts, logic

  and what I can see. Only God knows everything. I can’t know what is not documented; neither can we

  rely on beer-parlour rumours. Those that allege should come out and provide proof. Based on every

  document that we came across, what I presented was what we saw. I do not see how Peter Okocha

  would be so foresighted that he would incorporate a company in the 1980s for the sole purpose of

  waiting some 16 years later to buy a company when his friend would be vice-president. If he had that

  kind of foresight, then we really should concede and give the company to him in spite of our unproven

  suspicions.”

  Obasanjo seemed satisfied with this. “But you know what, Mr President?” I continued. “I have not

  mentioned this in the memorandum because I am yet to have the documentary evidence, and could not

  therefore put it on the record anywhere. But that company is suspected of having a $20 million hole.

  So if they bought it – the VP and this man – they might be in for a surprise. Only a person with deep

  pockets and commitment can clean up that company. It has some valuable assets that could be sold to

  cover the financial gap; it is an old company, the first company to sell gasoline in Nigeria. It is British

  Petroleum, remember, so they have assets, particularly real estate assets, all over the place, petrol

  stations, two lube blending plants, and so on. With good management and financial reengineering, they

  may be able to get out of it, but there is a big hole there.”

  “Really? How? What happened?”

  I proceeded to relate to him the story the BP South Africa representative told me. Obasanjo looked

  visibly more relieved.

  Prior to the second round of bid, I had quietly and privately counselled Peter Okocha that I have

  heard rumours of a financial hole. This information neither surprised nor alarmed him. He seemed to

  be vaguely aware of it, and was nevertheless determined to go ahead with the bid. As soon as Sadiq

  took control of AP, we hired an accounting firm to undertake a governance audit into the affairs of

  AP. The findings were sobering to say the least. It was found that the company’s NNPC-appointed

  management had made unauthorized borrowings of 11.75 billion naira through the issuance of

  Commercial Papers and Bankers Acceptances and obtained other bank loans without following due

  process. It had also purchased and sold assets without providing adequate details of sale proceeds

  and the identity of the buyers. In addition, it not only failed to reconcile huge debts owed to NNPC

  (estimated at between four and ten billion naira) but was also alleged to have been involved in

  insider trading, diverting revenues from bunkering and marine activities, and other general abuses.

  Sadiq Petroleum, the core investors, claimed that not only were these issues not disclosed, they were

  actively concealed from them during their pre-sale due diligence on the company. In order to

  establish the legitimacy of these claims, BPE held meetings with the core investors, Mr Umar Abba

  Gana (the former Managing Director of AP), the issuing house which supervised the due diligence

  exercise and Ernst & Young, the statutory auditors of the company, to resolve the conflicting records.

  For months, none of the parties could agree on the money owed to NNPC, the banks and other

  creditors and this remained unresolved throughout my tenure.

  Sadiq Petroleum was not an innocent victim in this whole imbroglio either. The company was found

  to have colluded with the issuing house (NAL Merchant Bank) and the registrars (IMB Securities

  Ltd.) to corner the 20 per cent shares sold to the public on the open market; withheld refunds to

  unsuccessful applicants and went as far as forging NIPOST despatch records to facilitate these

  dubious transactions. We reported the capital market operators to the Securities & Exchange

  Commission (SEC) and the Attorney-General for further action.

  In the end, neither the management of Sadiq Petroleum nor the findings of the governance audit fully

  established the size of the accounting hole until a couple of years later, after I had moved on to

  administer Abuja. Of course, this discovery was compounded by other issues which led to Sadiq

  demanding an immediate refund from the government. They found the hole largely because the NNPC,

  a government-owned company, supplied products to African Petroleum on credit, had better records

  and insisted on full payment of all outstanding accounts. AP's successive managements simply sold

  the products on to dealers and distributors, but apparently failed to remit the proceeds into AP's

  accounts, but allegedly diverted the proceeds to various private pockets – those running African

  Petroleum since 1978 were all seconded NNPC staff. They simply collected products from their

  parent company on credit, sold, and did not pay NNPC back - and literally stealing the money, and

  many of them had retired and were living happily ever after, in affluence.

  Sadiq first approached BPE for a refund of purchase price, but we referred Peter Okocha and his

  directors to the disclaimers in the contract that BPE sold the company “as is, where is” and my

  warnings to him about the existence of the accounting hole. Sadiq Petroleum even engaged political

  operator and PDP chieftain Abba Dabo as consultant to facilitate the cancellation of the sale but he

  too was rebuffed. In the end, a couple of years after I left BPE, the company was re-nationalized and

  the government directed the BPE to refund Sadiq Petroleum the original proceeds of the sale. AP wasr />
  then re-privatized a few years after that, this time sold to Jimoh Ibrahim, someone alleged to be close

  to Obasanjo, and similar speculations began, except that this time, it was Obasanjo rather than Atiku

  that became the suspected 'owner'. It was all very amusing to me. Subsequently, AP was acquired

  without any involvement of the BPE by Femi Otedola, another close friend of successive presidents,

  who has renamed it Forte Oil.

  The rumours of Atiku’s interest in the AP deal continued to make the rounds until we left office In any

  event, Atiku was a sitting vice-president at the time, there was nothing anyone could do because he

  had constitutional immunity from prosecution even if pursued. At any rate, even if true, I am not sure

  any crime was committed. A breach of administrative rules and NCP’s code of conduct, yes!

  Unethical behaviour, perhaps, but not a violation of any law that I know of since any public servant

  can be a shareholder in any business, but is prohibited from being a director while in office, except it

  is an agricultural enterprise. By the time Atiku left office, the whole thing became a moot point and

  Nuhu Ribadu, who would have had the courage to pursue the matter further, got kicked out of his job

  anyway.

  Nobody was going to take on somebody like Atiku Abubakar except the US Senate, [32] which has

  now published a report showing that his wife, a US citizen, laundered some $40 million through her

  personal bank accounts in the United States, including a $2.8 million wire transfer acknowledged by

  Siemens AG of Germany. Atiku and his wife, Jennifer, left the US in good time before the FBI got to

  ask them some questions. He is back in political contention in Nigeria as a leading member of the

  ruling party and a presidential hopeful for 2015.

  Mike Adenuga Sends Cash

  Not all manoeuvres in BPE’s universe were as covert as the vice-president’s alleged stake in Sadiq

 

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