Land Grab in Jomoro: Petroleum Hub’s gamble on Nzema communities

Old Kabenlasuazo, once a lively coastal village in Jomoro, now stands quietly. Rows of wooden houses sit empty, and the once-bustling beach is deserted. Not too long ago, children’s laughter, the chatter of fishmongers, and the rhythmic rowing of fishermen’s canoes filled the midday air. Now, the only sign of life is the soft sound of Maame Philomena Asamoah kneading cassava dough. She stares at the silent shore, remembering the vibrant home she used to know.

Philomena, 45, a mother of five, once earned her living as a fishmonger but now survives on selling Atsieke, a processed cassava meal. Her livelihood collapsed when talk of a massive petroleum project unsettled local communities, forcing many to flee. The promises of prosperity and development felt distant, as few details were shared with those whose lives would be disrupted.

“The fishermen are gone,” she laments. “We were told we’d be relocated for a harbour to be built, but no one knows when or where. They keep saying they’ll create jobs – maybe even send our children abroad – but we have no idea if that includes us. Why won’t they tell us more if the project is truly good for us?”

Philomena’s children, once surrounded by friends and neighbors, now play in near isolation. She worries about their future and cannot shake the feeling that those who remain in Old Kabenlasuazo are left in the dark.

Neighbors in turmoil

The sense of unease extends to Bonyere, another coastal community nearby. Kweku (not his real name), a fisherman, is preparing to move his family of fifteen away from Jomoro because fishing no longer supports them. He and his brother Kojo have fished these waters for decades, but with land threatened and the sea rumored off-limits, their livelihood is vanishing.

“I was just a baby when my parents settled here,” he recounts. “Jomoro is the only home we know. If we can’t fish or farm, what else can we do?”

The heartbreak is shared by many, all unsure where they will go if or when government officials demand they vacate.

The Petroleum Hub project

In 2020, the government, under Nana Akufo-Addo as President, announced an ambitious plan: Africa’s first Petroleum Hub. Officials said this would advance Ghana’s oil sector, create more than 11,000 jobs, and boost local development as part of its “Agenda for Jobs” policy. The $60 billion project requires 20,000 acres of land in Jomoro, spanning thirteen communities.

In 2022, the government declared a compulsory land acquisition in these areas. Since then, controversies over compensation have sparked tensions across Jomoro. After a ceremonial groundbreaking in August 2024, rumors of relocation and unanswered questions about how much (and when) residents would be paid spread fear throughout local villages.

Though the Petroleum Hub Development Corporation (PHDC) insists there is a “comprehensive” plan to compensate those uprooted, many residents remain sceptical, unsure and anxious. Officials maintain they cannot share specifics due to privacy. But villagers like 75-year-old Maame Akpanye have yet to see or hear anything concrete. “I take care of my four grandchildren,” she says. “I am losing my land, and no amount of money can fix our plight. I don’t know where we’ll go.”

Allegations of deception and fraud

Beyond missing compensation, locals accuse traditional leaders and the PHDC of complicity in what they call a “land grab.” Under special scrutiny is the Paramount Chief and President of the Western Nzema Traditional Council, Awulae Annor Adjaye III, who also chairs the PHDC’s board. Opponents argue he cannot fairly represent the community if he leads the very corporation claiming ancestral lands.

“We formed the Coalition of Concerned Nzema People (CCNP) to demand accountability,” says engineer and CCNP member Isaac Ndede Kojo. “We want fair, intergenerational compensation and a proper resettlement plan, not this secretive takeover.”

Allegations of coercion have led more than 300 Nzema farmers and landowners to file lawsuits against the PHDC at the Sekondi Circuit Court. They claim strangers, posing as consultant surveyors, appeared with documents for them to sign, provided little information, and left people with the impression that their only option was to comply.

“I didn’t realize I was signing away 50 acres – my entire family’s legacy,” one farmer who gave his name as Kabenla, said. “Farming is all I know. How will I feed my children now?”

Like many, he fears the offered compensation, rumored at just a few thousand cedis, cannot replace generations of heritage and livelihood.

Community outcry and government response

The CCNP staged protests and petitioned the erstwhile Akufo-Addo’s government, the Western Nzema Traditional Council and the Energy Ministry. They demanded complete transparency about the land takeover, fair valuation of property, and the cancellation of a sod-cutting ceremony by President Akufo-Addo. Yet in two separate letters, one from the Western Nzema Traditional Council and the other from the Presidency, officials dismissed the concerns of the group for lack of evidence. Subsequently, the sod-cutting ceremony proceeded on August 19, 2024.

“They silenced us,” Kojo says, adding that he was abruptly transferred from the local government in Jomoro to the Volta Region. “We just want them to address our concerns.”

The Lands Commission’s stand

The Lands Commission, specifically, its Public and Vested Lands Management Division (PVLMD), oversees compulsory acquisitions. However, PVLMD’s Deputy Executive Secretary, Maxwell Adu-Nsafoa, says the 20,000-acre takeover was never fully approved because the PHDC failed to complete required steps – among them proof of compensation capability, detailed stakeholder engagement, and an accurate map excluding the Half-Asini Road, which runs through the demarcated area.

“We had to halt the process. By law, only the Lands Commission pays out compensation. Since these conditions weren’t met, we couldn’t proceed,” he explains.

No Executive Instrument (EI) – the official document legalizing a compulsory acquisition – was issued. Instead, just a notice declaring intent was published in 2022. Mr. Adu-Nsafoa adds that the notice remains valid for only two years, with a possible one-year extension. If the PHDC still wants the land, it may have to restart the process entirely.

PHDC’s response

Former PHDC Chief Executive Officer Charles Owusu, who has just been replaced by a new CEO appointed by President John Mahama, told The Fourth Estate in late 2024 that the hub’s construction won’t begin until compensation issues were resolved.

“We won’t do anything until the Nzema people’s concerns are addressed,” he said assuringly. “They’re a special clan.”

His words, however, conflict with a letter from President Akufo-Addo’s office confirming that “all processes for compulsory acquisition have been complied with.”

A one-story project office was built in Jomoro, but the PHDC claims it lies outside the 20,000-acre boundary. Since its commissioning in August 2024, the building stands empty.

Cultural and chieftaincy conflicts

The Western Nzema Traditional Council defends its stance, explaining how they once begged past governments for development in the area. They firmly support the Petroleum Hub, dismissing local opposition as the byproduct of chieftaincy feuds. According to the council’s Registrar, Abu Sadiq Yakubu, three different chieftaincy-related court cases are fueling dissent against the paramount chief.

“They think Awulae Annor Adjaye III shouldn’t be on the board. But we’re working in the best interest of the people,” Yakubu insists.

Others, like Obaahemaa Ehu V, custodian of lands near Old Kabenlasuazo, worry about tradition and identity. Nzema festivals like Kundum, farmland inheritance, and sacred sites could all be jeopardized by displacement.

“If the government seizes the land and ocean, what do we have left? Our culture, our fishing, our coconut farms – these are the heartbeat of Nzema life,” Obaahemaa Ehu says.

She recalls a past land dispute that resulted in violence and death, warning that ignoring local custodians only risks further unrest. For her, the question is not just about economic gain but also preserving generational ties to the earth and sea.

Environmental risks

A 2022 Strategic Environmental Assessment (SEA) conducted by the Environmental Protection Agency raised alarms about industrial pollution, potential coastal erosion, climate change impacts, and threats to local wildlife. The Domunli enclave, within the 20,000-acre zone, is especially rich in biodiversity.

Conservationists, including Andrea Dempsey of the West African Primate Species Conservation Action (WAPCA), wants the Petroleum Hub project to be relocated elsewhere to spare sensitive habitats.

“We risk losing endangered species like the Roloway monkey and Miss Waldron’s colobus,” Miss Dempsey says. “Pollution and habitat destruction threaten food security and ecology here.”

An uncertain future

Jomoro’s fate hangs on the promise of oil riches that may come at the cost of ancestral land, cultural heritage, and irreplaceable ecosystems. The PHDC claims a resettlement plan exists, but its details and timing remain elusive. Locals like Philomena and Kweku stand on the brink of displacement, uncertain if or when they will be forced from the only homes they have known all their lives.

Farmers, fishermen, and their families in the area of the proposed Petroleum Hub project want concrete plans, fair compensation, and clear communication that builds trust and mutual respect. Only then can they decide if the Petroleum Hub will truly benefit the Nzema people or permanently fracture the communities it pledged to uplift.