Special Report: How Gas Flaring Turns Akwa Ibom’s Oil Communities into A Furnace

In three Akwa Ibom oil communities, families now live within metres of blazing gas flares that have turned night into daylight, poisoned air and water, and exposed the widening gap between Nigeria’s oil wealth and the lives sacrificed for it. 

In some oil-producing communities in Onna, Akwa Ibom State, South-south of Nigeria, darkness has been replaced by fire.

As dusk settles over Ikot Ebekpo, Ikot Ebidang and Ikot Annang in Onna, an orange glare pierces the sky. The flame rises and roars from twin stacks, casting long shadows across zinc rooftops and vibrating through walls like a low-flying jet that never passes.

Children wake in fright. Mothers sit outside fanning their babies. Men pace restlessly, waiting for morning to come.

“It was supposed to burn for only seven days,” says Edward George, standing metres from the flare in Ikot Ebekpo. “That is what we were told.” The flare has been burning for more than a month.

“At night, the community becomes day. You cannot sleep. The heat enters your body, and you become restless. The vibration shakes your house,” he says. “No one told us this would happen.”

A week after the gas flare started in early January, causing sleepless nights due to the heat, Mr George sent his children away to relatives outside the local government area.

“Let me breathe the burning gas and die, not my children,” he says, his voice steady but heavy. “I cannot allow these Indians who own the company to send me packing from my own community.”

In the mornings, he says, residents pull soot from their nostrils. His cassava and vegetables have withered from the relentless heat. And yet his livelihood depends on farming. Those with asthma have fled.

PREMIUM TIMES observed two flare stacks blazing close to residential buildings. Using Google Earth, an open-source intelligent tool that provides satellite imagery for measurement, the nearest house sits just 118.31 metres from the flare, barely longer than a 105-metre FIFA football pitch. In denser residential clusters, homes are 256.62 metres apart, roughly 60 average cars lined bumper to bumper.

From those distances, the heat is felt, and the tremor and the fiery glow are constant.

Some houses now stand abandoned, overrun by weeds, thus becoming silent witnesses to the exodus taking place in the community.

Skin that burns, rivers that no longer produce fish

Margaret Akpan’s voice carries both worry and anger. “Since last month when the flare started, I have had heat rashes,” she narrated. “My children, too. We have taken medication, but it refuses to go.”

She says the heat rashes not only affect her family and people in the neighbourhood. “In the market, people complain of the same thing. Cough is also common now, more than before.”

Across the narrow waterways of Ikot Ebidang, fishers speak of a different loss that affects their daily sustenance.

When PREMIUM TIMES visited the community riverbank, the absence was striking. Neither were boats seen fishing in the waters nor bobbing against the shore. No nets lay drying in the sun.

Francis Ekanem, a fisherman, says a strange substance now coats the water’s surface.

“We suspect it is residue from the flare. The water is hotter. The fish have migrated,” he says.

For a month, he has caught nothing. “I feed my family from fishing. Now I borrow money to eat. I am in serious debt.”

The Village Secretary, Nsa Victor, says the impact reaches beyond the river.

“Our roofs have turned brown since the flare started in 2024 in the nearby local government area. Now that the flare is in our community, our roofs have turned black, and many roofing sheets are gone,” he explained.

He rubs his eyes as he speaks. “There is itching. There are rashes. From what we have read, this flare is cancerous.”

The former youth president of Ikot Ebidang, Victor Ituen, says, “The moment you arrive in Onna, the air changes. This is not global warming. This is community burning.”

He says the sound is relentless, like ocean waves crashing at the shore.

“We need help,” Mr Ituen said.

Oil wealth beneath, fire above

The flaring is linked to the Utapate field asset, wholly owned by NNPC Exploration and Production Limited (NEPL), the upstream subsidiary of Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited.

Operations at the Utapate field are handled by Natural Oilfield Services Limited (NOSL), a subsidiary of Sterling Oil Exploration and Energy Production Company Limited, under a 15-year agreement signed in 2019. Production commenced in May 2024.

According to NNPC Ltd data, the block is estimated to hold more than 330 million barrels of oil, 45 million barrels of condensate, and 3.5 trillion cubic feet of natural gas.

Despite the wealth that Sterling Oil and NNPC Ltd rake in in Oniong East, that wealth dissipates into the air as wasted energy, raising several concerns for the host communities.

Since operations began, controversies have trailed the company’s operations.

In March 2025, the Petroleum & Natural Gas Senior Staff Association of Nigeria picketed the Sterling Oil over alleged anti-labour practices. In April 2025, the Akwa Ibom State Government accused the company of illegal operations and encroachment beyond the legally allotted land in Eastern Obolo, one of the host local government areas, and surrounding communities. Now, residents in Oniong East fear the expansion of the challenges into their communities.

A new rig has been constructed within Ikot Ebidang’s residential area, though flaring has not yet begun there.

“We are afraid it will get worse,” says Regina Udonsek, the women’s leader. “If they must flare, let it be very far from where people live, please.”

The yearning of Uta Harry, a chief in Ikot Ebidang, is simple: “This is a residential area. Lay the pipes and flare the gas far away. They are doing this at the detriment of the people.”

Law and the silence

Nigeria’s Petroleum Industry Act prohibits gas flaring except in emergencies or where exemptions are granted by the Nigerian Upstream Petroleum Regulatory Commission (NUPRC).

Section 104(1) provides that flaring without approval constitutes an offence.

When contacted, Sterling Oil’s Akwa Ibom Media Manager, Aniekeme Finbarr, said the company had obtained necessary exemptions and permits.

He said, “All permissions and certifications have been well done.” Mr Finbarr added that the company was informed about the issues by the Onna Local Government Council Chairman, Kufre Umoren.

He said, “There is a plan for a meeting between the (Onna local government) council, community and the company for further discussions on the matter to have an understanding of what the complaints are. We heard something about heat and so on.

“The situation will be reassessed and handled. That we can assure you.”

PREMIUM TIMES sought clarification from NEPL regarding proximity to homes, mitigation measures and compensation plans. NNPC’s Chief Corporate Communications Officer, Andy Odeh, did not respond to calls or messages by the time this report was filed.

The Akwa Ibom State Coordinator of NUPRC, Etukudoh Williams, declined comment and directed enquiries to the Abuja headquarters. Attempts to reach the commission’s national media office were unsuccessful. The Head of Media and Corporate Communications at NUPRC, Eniola Akinkuotu, did not respond to calls or messages sent to his phone.

For residents living under the flare’s glow, regulatory procedure feels distant.

Holding the line for survival

On 11 February, the Health of Mother Earth Foundation (HOMEF), in collaboration with the Peace Point Development Foundation, convened a renewable energy dialogue in Ikot Ebidang.

Community members listed what they had observed since exploration began: declining crop yields, dwindling fish catch, corroded rooftops, noise-induced insomnia, skin infections and persistent cough.

Nnimmo Bassey, the executive director of HOMEF, warned that these are only immediate impacts.

“If this is not stopped, there could be reproductive problems, cancer, and blood disorders,” he said. “The company responsible must be held to account, and they must take steps to allow the people to live in a healthy environment. We will accompany the community to demand accountability.”

The Coordinator of Peace Point Development Foundation, Umo Isuaikoh, showed participants how to document evidence using GPS data, engage regulators such as NOSDRA and NUPRC, and renegotiate the Memorandum of Understanding governing company access.

In the community’s communiqué, they demanded that associated gas be piped away from residential areas rather than flared within them, and that compensation be paid for livelihood losses.

The community also demanded that health facilities and services be provided to address their health challenges caused by oil production in the area and that the government must prioritise the well-being of their communities rather than sacrificing them in efforts to increase oil production targets.

Nation’s choice

Nigeria seeks to raise oil production to 3 million barrels per day, while the Utapate field in Akwa Ibom is expected to contribute 80,000 barrels per day.

According to data from NOSDRA gas flare tracker, between May 2024 and January 2026, 12.5 million standard cubic feet (MSCF) of gas valued at 43.7 million United States dollars and with the power generation potential of 1.2 thousand gigawatt-hour has been flared within the Utapate field. While average Nigerian household use about 1,500 kWh per year, 1.2 thousand gigawatt-hour (GWh,) which translates to 1.2 billion kWh could power about 800,000 households for one year.

However, in Oniong East, families measure oil production in sleepless nights, withering farms and empty fishing nets.

While the NOSDRA data puts the power generation potential of the gas burnt within the field at 1.2 thousand GWh, the gas that could power homes continues to be incinerated into the sky despite the poor electricity situation in the communities.

As the communities continue to sit in forced daylight and breathe soot, they await a moment when someone in authority will decide that their lives are worth more than a burning stack.