Over coffee and sandwiches in the whipping cold of Jos, the second managing director of the Nigerian Mining Corporation tells of how he stood his ground at risk of getting the sack and all about a Nigerian mining scene that was about to conquer the world in its day.
Davou T. Pwajok is not your typical octogenarian. While many would dish out advice and harp on things going wrong, he would rather watch and say little.
Even as we shake hands and make the introductions, he is wary and a little taciturn.
While we take our seats and reach for hot cups of coffee, I steal a glance at the man we have come to see.
His deep-set eyes do not give you an inkling of the chronicles filed away; a library he would rather keep locked than spill its contents.
“It would be a great read for contemporary Nigerian miners and policymakers to read about how things went wrong at the Nigerian Mining Corporation (NMC) and how best a repeat can be prevented,” I tell him. An attempt to get him to not to turn us away like he did once before.
He looks at me from under his lids and explains that he has nothing against this generation of miners.
“These days, everything is electronic and digital and they can get solutions from anywhere. Who needs advice, what will it change?” fastening his cloak against the whistling wind.
He seems to weigh it all for a bit and, after a short pause, sighs and says: “Those days, we were just doing our things at our work places when the Nigerian Mining Corporation (NMC) was about to be formed. Some of us, mining engineers, were hand-picked to come join. I think I, a mining engineer; Mr. Olayemi, a geologist; late Mr. Olinze, a mining engineer; Dr O.M. Ojo and Dr. Offodile, a geologist, were invited. There was one who refused to report…..”
Another pause ensues, as he tries to recall the name. A number of emotions register on his face, as he jogs his memory.
I assure him that it is nothing and he gives me that look.
“You don’t get it. I’m supposed to know. I am supposed to remember,” he shoots back.
Finally, he sighs. “Rahman, that’s him, even though I am not sure now.”
We share a laugh and I mention that, true, I do know Prof. Rahman.
“At that time,” he says, picking up from where he left off, “the Europeans were the ones mostly involved in large-scale, mechanised mining. I was with Jantar Nigeria Company Ltd. as a project manager. They sent me abroad to Camborne School of Mines for training and I was there from ’61 to ’64.
“In those days, the Plateau Hospital was ‘European Hospital’, the Yelwa Club was ‘European Club’, Barkin Ladi Club was ‘European Club’. The current Catholic Bishops Court’ was the house of our general manager, a South African. I was the only Nigerian amongst the senior staff,” he recollects.
When he was tapped by the NMC, he did not look back. It paid off to a great extent, he recalls, for he became a part of the most defining moments of Nigeria’s first public mining enterprise.
“At the NMC, my initial responsibility was to run a project that could engage in tin mining. That was how the Tin & Allied Minerals’ Project (TAMP) came about. We were running it as a private organisation, even though a decree gave us options to be exempted from obeying certain provisions of the Minerals’ Act. But, we did not. We ran the show like a private company. We obeyed all the rules and paid all the dues. We applied for SEPLs, EPLs and, eventually, mining leases and special mining leases like everybody else did. It became such an issue in the industry because we had too many titles.”
He eventually took over from the late Alhaji Rilwanu Lukman, whom he described as his mentor; a man who is touted to have defined the soul of the NMC and went on to become one of Nigeria’s most influential petroleum ministers.
We take a break from his riveting narrative to replenish our cups.
Great coffee, I say to him, lifting my cup in gratitude.
“Our coffee here is not bad,” he replies, going for his second cup.
He sighs and looks up as he draws his shawl tighter around his neck.
His thoughts drift to the public service and how it has changed over the years. He points out, though, that it is not too late to re-position it. The only snag, he insists, is a lack of self-belief.
“We must believe in ourselves. The Malaysians came here, took away our oil palm trees. They became a leading vegetable oil supplier to the world; they added value to their product.” Here, he even permits himself a chuckle at the irony, rubbing his hands together.
We sigh and reach for our cups of coffee. I pay some attention to my sandwich, taking a bite. I mention that the coffee is now lukewarm.
“Oh, we’ll get a hot jug then,” he assures.
We take a minute to enjoy a bite and a sip, while the cold winds whip around our ears. The sun is overhead, but it gives no warm comfort.
“You see,” his voice comes at me, somewhat jolting. “Agriculture and solid minerals have got very high potentials towards our development. We must add value always. All the minerals needed for the steel industry are here. We (at the NMC back then) did a lot of work to tell people that we can supply everything to them – all the raw materials they needed, except the caking coal.
“Look at the barites. At the Nigerian Mining Corporation, (NMC), with our geologists, we defined the structural characteristics of the barite deposits; we also mined, processed and supplied it to consumers. For cement-making, we had local gypsum, but instead of our industry to use the local gypsum, we were importing,” he pokes at the table, emphasising his point.
We are back to that point: believing in ourselves.
A time came when they accused the NMC of thwarting the importation. “They did?” I ask, quite shocked. “Why?”
“Well,” he began, “one of the major decisions we took to remain on our own, instead of running cap-in-hand to government for subventions was that we converted all our projects which were being run as profit/loss centres into limited liability companies under the Company Act. This created conducive conditions for their operations.
“The following year, we were getting enough money and didn’t need government finances. But, due to our success, individual interests were building up and the process collapsed.”
Taking advantage of the silence, we reach for our cups of coffee. It is warm refuge.
He recalls his invitation to Malaysia by the general manager of the Malaysian Mining Corporation.
“It was privatised and their general manager drove them into all sorts of businesses – mining, construction, oil palm production etc – to raise money for the corporation. I saw these. I saw what they did to theirs. See what we did to ours.” He chuckles, a mite embarrassed. Again, he rubs his hands; perhaps, to keep the cold out.
I ask him if the problem is grooming or not learning enough from our mistakes. “We should have more young ones coming through the ranks,” I say. But he shakes his head. “We groom, but we don’t let them learn from mistakes.”
He speaks of how he learnt from his superior while working as a trainee mining engineer.
“Once, I was with my superior (an expatriate) in Jantar, Tony Bowley and we were planning a blasting exercise at a mining site about 2km from the office I showed him my drilling pattern He asked ‘Tim, are you sure?’ I said I was. He sat upstairs and waited. Later, when he heard the sound of the explosion, he waited for me. The debris covered everything from the monitor to the gravel pump itself. When I returned to him in the office he showed me the plan and the mistake I made. Instead of recovering the operations as he expected in two weeks, I did it in five days. This earned me a double salary increment. I never did it again. It was a learning curve for me
“In those days, we believed that the development of a nation is directly related to the way in which they utilise their industrial minerals. I do not think that principle has changed. We decided to begin with kaolin, because it is the most used industrial mineral; in food, clothes, shoes, pharmaceuticals, rubber etc, as fillers. We decided to contact some manufacturers in Nnewi to make some equipment for us. Some of the machines are still functioning.
“Sadly, we do not believe in ourselves. We can fabricate anything here. Remember one Engr. Kwa? He was a fabricator here. He designed the machine for trashing this grain called ‘acha’ (fonio). He also fabricated machines for us at NMC.
“See, believe in your abilities and see no boundaries,” he rubbed his hands together again. “Once you believe in yourself, you can do it. If we believe in ourselves, even now, it is not late. We can arise when we want to.”
He shrugs, reaches for his cup and sighs…again.
“You see, I can tell you what happened to me, but not what can be done today. It would make no sense. Things have changed so much. If I say ‘go back and do this and this’, knowing that they have been taken over by events… If you put those days and today side-by-side, then you can see how things worked back then and how you can incorporate some into today’s workings.”
So far, we flow and get him talking, but, now, it does seem as if we are back at one. I didn’t see that coming.
But he cheers up and keeps at it.
The 82-year-old mining engineer stretches, gets up and walks around.
After four cups of coffee and two sandwiches, I guess our little chat must have come to an end. That is the signal I need.
All rights reserved. This material and any other digital content on this platform may not be reproduced, published, broadcast, written or distributed in full or in part, without written permission from The Rock Post Publications
