By Chukwunonye Okereke
On July 2, 2024, the Enugu State Government announced with fanfare the award of a multi-billion-naira contract to Sujimoto Luxury Construction Ltd for the building of 22 “Smart Green Schools.” The schools were part of Governor Peter Mbah’s ambitious promise to deliver 260 world-class learning centres, one in each political ward.
But barely ten months later, the project has collapsed into a scandal. That is, ₦5.76 billion in taxpayer funds has already left the state treasury, work at most sites is either non-existent or skeletal, and the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) has declared Sujimoto’s chief executive wanted.
The state government itself now admits that “minimal to no significant work” has been carried out. What was conceived as a shining education legacy is instead exposing disturbing gaps in procurement procedure, contract supervision, and financial accountability.
Who is Sujimoto?
The man behind the Sujimoto brand is Olasijibomi “Sijibomi” Ogundele, a Lagos luxury real estate entrepreneur who founded Sujimoto Construction in 2013. The company built its reputation on premium apartment complexes in Ikoyi and Banana Island.
Ogundele has styled himself as Nigeria’s face of luxury property development, more developer than contractor. Until the Enugu deal, Sujimoto’s portfolio was largely residential, not public-sector infrastructure.
According to Enugu’s Commissioner for Information, Sujimoto was awarded a contract worth ₦11,457,930,950.52 on July 2, 2024 for the construction of 22 Smart Green Schools. The project was to be completed within six months.
The government also confirms that on its instruction the State Ministry of Works released ₦5,762,565,475.25 — exactly 50% of the contract sum — to Sujimoto as mobilisation. This was intended, officials said, “to fast-track delivery.”
Yet questions persist: Was the contract ever advertised? Was there open competitive bidding? Did the Bureau of Public Procurement (BPP) issue a no-objection?
No public tender notice has been sighted. No list of competing bidders has been released. In effect, one of the biggest education contracts in the state’s history appears to have been processed with minimal transparency.
In May 2025, after public outcry and petitions, a joint team of EFCC officials and the Ministry of Works officials inspected the 22 sites. Their findings, as relayed by the state, were damning: most sites had no meaningful progress, some had no excavation at all, and none were anywhere near completion.
Faced with this, the state claims it has reassigned some sites to “credible contractors.” But that only deepens the question: how did an untested contractor in public education construction get ₦5.7 billion upfront without watertight safeguards?
Perhaps the most explosive detail is the performance bond.
The government alleges that Sujimoto provided a bond issued by a bank but registered a different operational account with the Ministry of Works at another bank, where the mobilisation payment was actually made.
In theory, a performance bond protects the government: if the contractor defaults, the bank that issued the bond pays the state. But if funds are routed through another bank, enforcement becomes murky.
Enugu’s information commissioner bluntly called this a “premeditated” scheme to render the Jaiz bond unenforceable. Legal experts warn that such a mismatch “defeats the essence of a guarantee” because the beneficiary may not be able to call on the bank that issued it.
The result: the state may have lost both its money and its legal shield. The EFCC journey most likely is going to be a waste of time and resources and at best it will be a lengthy legal battle.
Sujimoto’s CEO has denied wrongdoing. In public comments, he blamed cost escalation and project design changes for the delays, insisting that he remains committed to delivering.
He has also suggested that the political climate has turned hostile, portraying himself as a victim of government scapegoating.
But those explanations are cold comfort to citizens who see idle sites and vanished billions.
Nigeria’s Public Procurement Act (2007) and state procurement laws set out clear rules:
Competitive bidding with public advertisement is mandatory, except under narrow exceptions.
No contractor should receive more than 15% mobilisation without a valid bank guarantee.
Performance bonds must be enforceable and aligned with the payment account.
Yet in Enugu’s Smart School deal, 50% mobilisation was paid out — more than three times the statutory maximum. The procurement file has not been published. And the bond/account mismatch undermines the contract’s legal safeguards.
Even if no fraud is ultimately proven, these procedural breaches alone are grave. They suggest a government willing to subordinate law to political haste.
Governor Peter Mbah has promoted the Smart Schools as a signature legacy. Awarding such a contract to a flashy Lagos developer, without evidence of competitive bidding, looks less like prudent governance and more like political favouritism.
There is no public evidence that Sujimoto has any formal link to Pinnacle Oil & Gas — the company long associated with Mbah — but the optics of awarding billions to a politically connected newcomer in education construction are troubling.
At best, this was reckless procurement. At worst, it was wilful subversion of due process.
Beyond the ₦5.7 billion already gone, the scandal raises deeper issues.
If state governments can override procurement law, if bonds can be neutralised by administrative sleight of hand, and if inspections can be ignored until projects collapse, then public contracting itself becomes meaningless.
Where is the full contract document?
Where are the tender adverts and bid records?
What exactly did the Jaiz Bank guarantee say, and why was payment routed through Zenith?
Who signed off on the 50% mobilisation?
Until these questions are answered with documents — not press statements — the Smart School project will remain a case study in how not to govern.
The Smart School scandal is not just about Sujimoto. It is about a government that chose speed over scrutiny, spectacle over safeguards.
Governor Peter Mbah may yet rescue his education legacy by publishing every contract, every bond, and every payment record, and by holding his own officials accountable.
But until then, the project stands as an indictment: of a state that talks transparency while practising opacity, of a procurement process bent out of shape, and of a political class too eager to spend billions without following the law.
Enugu deserves better.
*Chukwunonye Okereke, Public Affairs Analyst and Political Strategist
Leave a Reply