
We walk on them, drive on them, and complain about them. But how often do we think about the complex journey a road takes before it becomes the tarmac beneath our wheels? It’s a journey of legal frameworks, competitive bidding, and watchful oversight.
To understand how infrastructure gets built, I decided to look under the hood of two very different places: Tilbury, Essex, a county in the UK, and Benin City, the capital of Edo State in Nigeria.
On the surface, they are worlds apart. One has a mature, centuries-old network of highways; the other is a rapidly growing African metropolis with pressing infrastructure needs. But both need roads that are durable, fairly procured, and built to last.
The stories of how they do it reveal not just different processes, but different philosophies about transparency, quality, and trust.
Phase 1: The Idea and the Money
Every road starts as an idea, and in both places, that idea must be attached to a budget.
In Essex, a major project begins with a formal “Business Case.” For a complex junction, this means proving its worth to secure funding, sometimes even from the national government in London. It’s a front-loaded system that requires significant planning and justification before a single shovel hits the ground. The funding can come from the council, but a huge amount comes from private developers through legal agreements like Section 278 and Section 38, where builders pay to improve the roads their new housing estates will rely on.
In Benin City, the project is born when a Ministry, like the Ministry of Works, identifies a need and ensures it’s written into the state’s approved budget. The funding is primarily public. The big difference is that the process is designed to be incredibly open from the start. Thanks to the Edo State Public Procurement Law (2020) , a project cannot move forward without a formal Procurement Planning Committee. This isn’t just bureaucracy; it’s a legal requirement designed to prevent the old days of “gentlemen’s agreements.”
Phase 2: Finding a Builder (The Great Tender)
This is where the two systems diverge most dramatically.
Essex takes a “Framework” approach. They don’t just advertise to anyone. Instead, they use pre-approved lists of contractors, like the Eastern Highways Alliance (EHA3). Think of it as an exclusive club. To get in, a company has already proven its financial stability and technical skill. When a project is tendered, it’s offered to these trusted suppliers. It’s efficient and reduces risk, but it can feel closed off to newcomers.
Benin City takes the opposite, hyper-transparent approach. It pioneered a mandatory e-procurement system. Every single invitation to tender is published on a public online portal. A contractor in Lagos, or even London, can log on and bid for a road project in Benin City.
This “leapfrog” technology is a direct response to a legacy of opacity. By forcing every bid to be submitted and opened electronically, human interference is minimized. The goal is to ensure the contract goes to the “lowest responsive and qualified bidder,” based purely on the merits of their bid, not their connections.
Phase 3: Keeping an Eye on Things (The Oversight)
A signed contract is just a piece of paper. The real test is on the ground.
In Essex, the guardian of quality is a dedicated, highly trained professional: The Clerk of Works. This person is the council’s eyes and ears. They don’t just do a weekly drive-by; they are on-site, checking materials, ensuring compliance with the technical “Design Manual,” and holding the contractor to account. They are the gatekeeper, especially for new roads built by developers. If the Clerk of Works decides the road isn’t up to standard, the council won’t “adopt” it, leaving the builder responsible for its maintenance forever. It’s a powerful motivator for quality.
In Benin City, the oversight role is held by the supervising Ministry. While they perform similar checks, the intensity can vary. However, the state has introduced a fascinating and modern twist: citizen feedback. After a project is “completed,” the government actively seeks validation from the people who use the road. It’s a form of mass oversight, turning every driver into a potential inspector. If the road fails, the community will be the first to sound the alarm. Though there are structural difficulties with this mode of feedback, no phone to call and where available, no actions on calls received. These systems as described as usual on bidding papers for foreign aid by donor countries or organisations.
Phase 4: Getting Paid and Moving On
Finally, the money flows, and the road is handed over.
In Essex, payments are milestone-based and contractually rigid, often following the rules of the “NEC4” contract. The Clerk of Works must sign off on the work before the contractor gets paid. The final step is the “adoption,” where the road officially becomes the council’s problem—and its responsibility for future potholes.
In Benin City, payment is also tied to “verified completion” . But the system’s real strength is in its attempt to close the loop. By using its e-procurement portal to track projects through their milestones and combining it with real-world citizen feedback, the government is building a digital record of delivery. It’s a system designed to prove that the money was spent and the work was done.
The Verdict: Two Models of Trust
So, which system is better?
It’s not that simple. They are each a product of their environment.
Essex represents a “Professional Trust” model. It relies on a class of certified experts—framework managers, contract lawyers, and the all-important Clerk of Works—to safeguard the public interest. It’s a system built on credentials and legal liability.
Benin City is building a “Systemic Trust” model. It doesn’t rely on a single expert figure; it relies on an open, digital system to prevent corruption at the procurement stage, and on the collective power of the community to validate the final product.
Essex invests in people to ensure the road is built right. Benin City invests in technology and transparency to ensure the process is fair.
One thing is clear: whether you’re in a quiet English village or a bustling Nigerian city, a good road is more than just asphalt and aggregate. It’s a testament to the system that built it.


