What Kenya Found in Magadi,and What Guyana Has Not Yet Looked For

592 GUARDIAN◊ACCOUNTABILITY◊INTEGRITY IN JOURNALISM◊GUYANA

What Kenya Found in Magadi,and What Guyana Has Not Yet Looked For


OPINION BY : Hem Kumar 2026

A century-old extraction bargain is unravelling in Kenya. Guyana has the same bargain — gold, bauxite, and now uranium — and has not yet been asked Kenya’s question.

A century ago, Tata Chemicals’ predecessors began pulling soda ash from the shores of Lake Magadi. For most of that century, the arrangement held: exports flowed out, jobs and philanthropy flowed back in, and the Kenyan state asked very little in return. That arrangement is now over. Nairobi has suspended the company’s  operations, President William Ruto has ordered it to leave pending a compliance review, and a joint technical committee is working through a list even a casual reader will recognize — royalties, local processing, employment of citizens, a county government demanding its own seat at the table.

Pres Ruto and Tata’s employess

The proximate trigger was almost administrative in its dryness. A government-wide audit found that Tata had never applied for a mineral right under Kenya’s post-2010 Mining Act, and had instead operated for generations on the strength of its original land concessions. Mining Cabinet Secretary Hassan Joho put the government’s position plainly: past oversights, he said, do not grant immunity from existing laws. Tata disputes none of the history and says it is now cooperating.

What should interest a Guyanese reader is not the soda ash. It is the shape of the thing — a government that found a specific, checkable compliance gap and chose to act on it, and a president willing to say out loud that a century of local philanthropy from an extractive company is not the same as the country’s fair share of the resource.

Guyana has the compliance gaps. It has the philanthropy standing in for state provision. What it has not yet produced is the second half of the Kenyan story: the government that looks and act to correct what’s wrong .

THE GAP THAT GETS ACTED ON, AND THE ONE THAT DOESN’T

Kenya’s case against Tata rests on a fact anyone could verify once someone bothered to check: no mineral right application until July 2024, on an operation that predates Kenyan independence. That is what a functioning audit is for — not to produce a report that sits in a drawer, but to hand a government the specific lever it needs to compel a company back into compliance.

Guyana has its own audit backlog sitting at the Guyana Geology and Mines Commission, and its own instance of a nominally independent oversight body — the Guyana Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative; facing credible allegations that its civil society seats have been captured rather than filled independently.

An audit that is never finished, or a transparency initiative whose civil society check has been quietly hollowed out, produces the same practical result as no audit at all: a regulator that knows things it declines to use.

The difference between Nairobi and Georgetown is not that Guyana lacks the information. It is that Kenya’s government treated a finished compliance finding as the beginning of a negotiation, and Guyana’s has largely treated its own findings as filing.

TWO GOVERNMENTS, TWO DEFINITIONS OF “BENEFIT”

Ruto did not simply demand better compliance from Tata. He told Kajiado County residents that the next investor should be building glass and chemical manufacturing facilities on Kenyan soil — not just shipping the raw mineral out for someone else to process, mark up, and sell. It is a specific, structural demand: keep the value-add, not just the royalty cheque, inside the country.

No comparable demand has been made of Guyana’s gold sector, and none is yet being made of the uranium sector now opening at Kurupung. G2 Goldfields’ recent US$2.2 billion change of control moved entirely through an Ontario court and a shareholder vote; routing around the Guyana Geology and Mines Commission’s own Section 18 change-of-control process even as the Commission was simultaneously warning small local tenure holders against exactly this kind of unapproved transfer. When asked about it directly, President Ali defended the practice as ordinary global mining industry behavior.

That is a government declining, in real time, to ask Kenya’s question: what does the country keep, beyond the jobs?

Kurupung is still early enough that the question has not foreclosed itself. U92 Corp holds two exploration licenses running to April 2027, extendable to 2029, over ground that produced no economic discovery in over a years  of prior exploration by COGEMA, Denison Mines, and U3O8 Corp before it. There is, as yet, no uranium-specific regulatory framework in Guyana, no settled royalty floor, and — as former EPA Executive Director Dr. Vincent Adams has said on the record; no government capacity to monitor a uranium operation even if one is eventually built.

Guyana is not yet at the point Kenya has reached with Tata. It is at the point Kenya was at decades ago, before anyone thought to ask what “past oversight” was worth.

THE COUNTY THAT INSISTED, AND THE REGION THAT COULD NOT

Kajiado’s Governor, Joseph Ole Lenku, made a point of saying that his county government’s participation in the Tata negotiations was non-negotiable, and that unpaid land rates were the county’s own irreducible minimum. Whatever else is unresolved in Magadi, a subnational government asserted itself against a hundred-year-old multinational and a national ministry, and was heard.

Guyana’s Region Ten has spent over a year unable even to seat a functioning Regional Administration following the September 2025 elections — an impasse the Carter Center did not so much as mention despite an August 2026 monitoring visit to the country.

A region cannot negotiate its share of anything, royalties included, if it cannot first agree on who is entitled to sit in the chair.

THE LIFELINE PROBLEM

The most uncomfortable parallel is the one embedded in what Magadi residents actually said. One resident called Tata “our lifeline” — pointing to bursaries, water, and health services the state itself had not reliably provided. A former subcounty children’s officer confirmed that the only piped clean water in the area runs to the company’s own facility, not to the surrounding villages.

The company’s philanthropy is not a bonus on top of state provision. In Magadi, it has functioned as a substitute for state provision, and residents know it — which is exactly why so many of them fear its departure more than they resent its presence.

That is not a uniquely Kenyan condition. It was the same logic behind GGMC’s own recent donation drive of used clothing and footwear for residents of Guyana’s gold-mining districts — a regulator, sitting on gold above US$4,000 an ounce and combined reserves in the tens of millions of ounces among its licensed operators, choosing charity over the revenue capture that was always its actual job. It was the same logic behind a private donation of generators to cover a Region Ten power shortfall the state itself was supposed to have solved.

A company or a state-adjacent actor stepping into a gap the government left open is not generosity in either country. It is a quiet admission of where the state’s obligations have gone missing — an admission both governments have been content to let stand, in one case for a century, in the other for as long as the oil, gold, and now uranium keep coming.

THE FORK GUYANA HAS NOT REACHED YET

Kenya’s story is not a clean victory. The technical committee has not finished its work, Tata’s future in Magadi is still unresolved, and residents are still asking what, precisely, a new investor would owe them that the old one did not. But the process that got Kenya to this point — an audit that produced consequences, a head of state willing to name the beneficiation gap out loud, a subnational government that made its own seat at the table non-negotiable — is not a process Guyana has yet run, on gold, on bauxite, or on the uranium now sitting in the ground at Kurupung with a licence clock already running toward 2027.

The Kenyan case is not a warning about what happens after a century of extraction without local benefit. Guyana already knows that story; it has been living an abbreviated version of it since 2015.

The more useful thing Magadi offers is a fork: an audit can be finished or left in a drawer; a president can ask for beneficiation or defend the flip; a regulator can capture revenue or hand out clothing. Kenya, a century late, chose the first branch of each. Guyana, with Kurupung’s clock still running, has not yet chosen at all.

— The Board

 

 

GOLD, CRIME AND THE CUYUNÍ THE CUYUNÍ MACHINE

592 GUARDIAN◊ACCOUNTABILITY◊INTEGRITY IN JOURNALISM◊GUYANA

PART II  · GOLD, CRIME AND THE CUYUNÍ THE CUYUNÍ MACHINE


OPINION BY: Hem  Kumar September 2026

The Enforcement That Isn’t Aimed at the Real Flow

Guyana does not lack a legal architecture for gold. It has one of the older, more formally complete regulatory regimes in the region for the sector: a Gold Board created in 1982, an Anti-Money Laundering and Countering the Financing of Terrorism Act that has been amended repeatedly since 2009 to keep pace with international standards, a licensing regime under the Gold Board (Dealers) Regulations of 1997, and a legal requirement — Section 8 of the Guyana Gold Board Act — that no gold be sold, bought or exported by anyone except the Board or its authorized agents. On paper, every ounce that leaves this country is supposed to pass through a single, accountable, taxed and royalty-paying chokepoint.

 Guyana has also shown, this year, that it is capable of using that architecture with real force — against one flow of illicit gold. The question this instalment puts to the government is why that same force has not yet appeared anywhere near the flow this series has been documenting.

WHAT A REAL CRACKDOWN LOOKS LIKE

On January 5, acting on a presidential edict from President Ali that gave non-compliant operators 24 hours to regularize their position, Guyana’s Geology and Mines Commission suspended the licenses of 107 Brazilian miners operating in the country’s western and southwestern interior. GGMC Commissioner Newell Dennison did not mince words about why: the miners, using industrial river and land dredges, were producing large volumes of raw gold and sending most of it back to Brazil rather than declaring it or selling it to the Gold Board or an authorized dealer, as the law requires. Summonses went out to every affected permit holder. Dennison’s ultimatum was blunt — come in and open your records, or your operation stays suspended, because “the information they have given us usually proves to be bogus.”

That is not a press-conference commitment. It is a dated, numbered, named enforcement action, backed by a head of state’s own edict and executed by the regulator with a specific evidentiary standard attached. It deserves to be recorded as such, and thispublication records it as such

It is also, on the government’s own account of the problem, aimed at the wrong river. Guyana’s special organized crime unit has itself estimated that as much as 15,000 troy ounces of gold are smuggled out of the country every week — not primarily toward Venezuela, but through the river border with Suriname and onward to the United States, Europe and the Middle East. The January crackdown targeted the Brazilian dredge operators feeding that western smuggling pattern. It said nothing about the Cuyuní corridor, the Lethem-to-Boa Vista road route, or the crypto-for-gold settlements this series documented in Part One — the flow that has inverted since 2023 and now moves Guyanese gold into the hands of Venezuelan generals at an 8 percent premium, rather than out through Suriname to Western markets.

TWO FLOWS, TWO DIFFERENT LEVELS OF ATTENTION

This is not a minor distinction. It is the whole story.

The Brazil-bound smuggling pattern GGMC moved against in January is, structurally, a tax and royalty evasion problem: gold produced legally under license, then diverted around the point of sale to avoid Guyanese duties, flowing toward ordinary commercial markets in the West. It is serious, and the government was right to act on it. But it is also the kind of illicit flow a state can move against without touching anything politically sensitive — the operators are foreign nationals, the destination is a friendly neighbor with its own parallel crackdown underway (Brazil’s 2023 regulatory tightening, which triggered an 84 percent decline in that country’s own artisanal gold output, is precisely what pushed regional trafficking networks to reroute toward Venezuela in the first place), and the optics of “protecting state revenue from foreign miners” cost Georgetown nothing with Washington or with Caracas.

Two crackdowns were available. One was cheap. The other has not, as of this writing, been attempted.

The Venezuela-bound flow is a different animal entirely, and a considerably more dangerous one. It routes gold from Guyanese soil into an economy that GI-TOC researchers describe as structurally criminalized at the level of the state itself — purchased at a premium by serving Venezuelan military generals, some of whom sit inside the same Orinoco Mining Arc protection networks the Legal Gold and Mining Partnership Act now moving through the US Senate specifically names Tren de Aragua and the ELN as beneficiaries of. Confronting that flow means confronting armed actors operating with the acquiescence, and in some documented instances the direct involvement, of a neighboring state’s security apparatus — along a border Venezuela itself disputes, where Guyana Defense Force patrols have already taken fire twice this year.

It also means confronting the reality that some of the gold moving into that flow may be leaving Guyana with the knowledge, or the negligence, of licensed dealers operating inside the very AML—CFT-supervised system the Gold Board is legally responsible for policing.

THE GAP THE LAW ITSELF CREATES ROOM FOR

None of this required new legislation to address. Guyana’s AML—CFT framework already designates licensed gold dealers as “Designated Non-Financial Businesses and Professions”; reporting entities required to conduct customer due diligence, monitor transactions and report suspicious activity, with the Gold Board itself named as the supervisory authority responsible for overseeing that compliance. If gold is leaving licensed hands in Guyana bound for buyers connected to a foreign military accused of laundering proceeds through cryptocurrency, that is precisely the kind of transaction pattern a functioning AML—CFT supervisory authority exists to catch.

The infrastructure to ask the question is already in the statute book. What has not yet been demonstrated, publicly, is that anyone is asking it.

There is a caution worth building into this critique before it hardens into something unfair. International experience with sweeping supply-chain legislation is not uniformly encouraging: implementation of Section 1502 of the US Dodd-Frank Act — the “conflict minerals” provision aimed at central African supply chains — is widely documented to have pushed legitimate artisanal miners into the arms of the same criminal networks the law was meant to disrupt, while largely failing to touch the traders and companies who had profited from the trade for years. A blunt instrument aimed at Guyana’s own artisanal and small-scale miners, in the name of stopping a Venezuela-bound flow those miners have no part in, would replicate that failure and punish the wrong people. The Legal Gold and Mining Partnership Act’s own drafters appear to understand this, building in language intended to distinguish informal-but-legal small-scale mining from the increasingly mechanized, increasingly sophisticated criminal operations the bill is actually meant to target.

That distinction is exactly the one Georgetown has not yet drawn in public. The government has shown, in January, that it can move fast and hard against a licensing violation with an easy villain and no diplomatic downside. It has not yet shown — through a single named prosecution, a disclosed dealer investigation, or so much as a public acknowledgment that the Cuyuní flow exists as a distinct problem from the Suriname one — that it is prepared to do the harder thing.

WHAT COMES NEXT

The pattern this series exists to track is not that Guyana never enforces its own laws. It is that enforcement arrives reliably where it is politically convenient, and far more unevenly where it would require confronting Guyana’s own licensed actors, its own regional alliances, or the criminal governance structures now consolidating on the other side of a border this country still cannot fully control.

The Legal Gold and Mining Partnership Act, if it passes the US Senate in anything like its current form, will hand Guyana a genuine intelligence-sharing partnership and a classified-briefing mechanism specifically built around Venezuela’s gold trade with Turkey and Iran. It will not, on its own, produce a single Guyanese prosecution. Only Georgetown can do that.

Part Three of this series will examine what is known — and what remains conspicuously undisclosed — about the licensed Guyanese dealers and export documentation implicated in the Cuyuní flow.

SOURCES

Global Initiative Against Transnational Organized Crime, “Illicit Gold Trafficking to Venezuela and the Implications of US Action” (March 2026); Associated Press, “Guyana suspends mining licenses of more than 100 Brazilians in gold smuggling crackdown” (January 6, 2026, via Washington Post/ABC News/WTOP/Barchart republication); Guyana Gold Board, official Legal Framework and AML/CFT pages (ggb.gov.gy); Guyana Gold Board Act, Chapter 66:01; Anti-Money Laundering and Countering the Financing of Terrorism Act No. 13 of 2009; “2026 in Guyana,” Wikipedia chronology.

Snr Supt Narine the messenger, not decisionmaker (Pt I)

592 GUARDIAN◊ACCOUNTABILITY◊INTEGRITY IN JOURNALISM◊GUYANA

Snr Supt Narine the messenger, not decisionmaker (Pt I)


OPINION BY :GHK LALL September 2026

The nation owes a debt to Snr Supt of Police, Mr. Prem Narine, for his forthrightness.  Six execution-style murders allegedly evidence the hand of Opposition Leader, Azruddin Mohamed.  The alleged murders go back to the time when Mr. Mohamed ranked close to the top of the pile of PPP friendships, PPP allies, and PPP financiers.  In thinking of these murders, I recognize Snr Supt Narine as today’s messenger.  With respect to Mr. Narine, I must discard him as a decisionmaker.

First, a Detective Constable, Corporal, or Sergeant doesn’t get to make the decision to charge or not charge.  Not for six execution-style murders, and not for murders where a top PPP Govt bankroller is the prime suspect. 

More than the prime suspect.  Maybe the only suspect with a smoking gun in his hand.  And all as alleged in the court delivery given by the man who now holds the rank of senior superintendent.  With such an elevated rank, and its accompanying considerable reach, it is surprising that Mr. Narine left those cold cases in their artic tombs.  But that’s another conversation.

Second, one murder is routine.  Two executive-style murders are exceptional.  Three such murders are now a crime wave.  What to make of six of them?  What to make of them and where they remained buried out of the sight of Guyanese, when one murderer is allegedly the perpetrator a half dozen times over?  Six execution-style murders spread around separate murderers are a problem.  Six of them by one hand are a crisis.  The Police Commissioner of the time couldn’t have kept that to himself.  The Hon Minister of Home Affairs at the time should have known, would have been apprised, if only to cover the Guyana Police Force brass.  Would a responsible Home Affairs Minister not share that with his cabinet colleagues, his president?  He would have had to, since six execution-style murders by one hand meant that same hand had declared war on Guyana, Guyana’s laws, Guyanese, and the Guyanese way of life. 

The commissioner would want his minister to know and the minister would want his cabinet comrades and his president to know.  As a matter of form.  As a mandatory standard.  As a matter of safety and justice in Guyana.

Third, did this happen or not?  Or what did minister, cabinet, and president know about six execution-style murders and when?  And that all the evidence points to a close friend of the PPP Govt.  To cut to the chase, what did the PPP minister, the PPP Govt, and the PPP president do?  Let no one in this country play any games with these murders.  All Guyanese know of the relationship between Guyana Governments and the Guyana Police Force, going back to Burnham time.  So, for anyone to say that the government wasn’t informed and the president was kept out of the loop (to give him plausible deniability) is a load of bull.  The president had to know given the identity of the alleged murderer.  This wasn’t a Police matter anymore, it was a national government matter. 

A catastrophic one, with a genuine insider allegedly the murderer, multiplied by six.  In other words, a serial killer.

Fourth, the PPP Govt used to boast about crimefighting successes when violent crime was in its ascendancy.  The ancient question returns: were crime successes the result of more crimes committed?

Fifth, with six-execution style murders fastened to his name. it troubles immensely that the PPP still took money from Mr. Mohamed.  He said he was the PPP bankroller, not I.  In real-life that’s labeled aiding and abetting, or consorting.

Sixth, it staggers the senses that very senior people in national governments, all PPP Govts, had some knowledge, probably the entire slates of evidence, and in August 2020, Guyana’s president preferred method of travel to his inauguration was in a vehicle owned by that alleged murderer, who was a most trusted partner.  What else to say, other than more consorting, more insulting recklessness?

Seventh, is this alleged serial murderer the only one shielded by the PPP of old and the PPP Govt of today? 

Eighth, the six execution-style murders were bloody, bareknuckle, likely gun barrel crimes, that got covered up, were given the thickest national security blanket.  I now drag into this dirty, bloody, smelly, and sickly mess of a national slaughterhouse (the U.S. Embassy has a duty to read and report), the litany of white-collar crimes in their countless billions. 

If murders could be covered up so efficiently, white-collar crimes are easy game, with even more competencies hired.  Instead of detectives, there are diggers who smooth over crimes, camouflage corruptions.

Ninth, Snr Supt Narine unwittingly exposed commissioners, ministers, cabinets, and presidents, and who inside the PPP High Command decides who gets charged, who does not.  What gets published, what is not.

Tenth and last, with all of this now in broad daylight, will anything come out of it?  Maybe a Mohamed in shackles.  But exclude any commissioner, minister, or national leader.  Dead or alive.  Whether they are at the controls, or pretending at being Guyana’s Houdini.  Or some damn lowlife comedian.

 

Par for the Course

592 GUARDIAN♦ACCOUNTABILITY♦INTEGRITY IN JOURNALISM♦GUYANA

Par for the Course


OPINION BY: Hem Kumar September 2026 

BBCI’s former company chairman says the government paid $400 million for 400 million ordinary shares at $1 apiece. That confirms an arithmetic exercise, not a valuation — and it leaves the only question that matters to the public unanswered.

Kiskadee Watch’s report on the winding-up of the Berbice Bridge Company Inc. (BBCI) has been described, including by its own framing, as bringing clarity to the government’s acquisition of the bridge. It does nothing of the sort. What  Paul Cheong disclosed to that outlet is a division of a sum, not an accounting of value. The distinction is not a technicality. It is the entire story. 

WHAT WAS ACTUALLY DISCLOSED

According to Cheong’s account, six shareholders held BBCI’s ordinary shares between them, and each was paid the par value of their holding, in full:

Shareholder Ordinary Shares Amt. Received
National Insurance Scheme (NIS) 80.000.000 80.000.000
Secure International FinanceCompany  80.000.000 80.000.000
Queens Atlantic Investments Inc 80.000.000 80.000.000
New GPC Inc 80.000.000 80.000.000
Hand-in-Hand Mutual Fire Insurance  40,000,000 40,000,000
NICIL 40,000,000 40,000,000
TOTAL 40,000,000,000 40,000,000,000

The arithmetic is clean, and there is no reason to doubt it: 400,000,000 shares at $1 each produces exactly $400,000,000, which matches the figure originally reported. Cheong further stated that BBCI’s “other outstanding obligations were settled from the company’s own funds,” without identifying what those obligations were, their total value, or what was paid to holders of preference shares, bonds, or subordinated debt. He declined to release the Cabinet memorandum authorising the acquisition, calling it a confidential Cabinet document, and directed further questions to the Secretary to the Cabinet.

PAR VALUE IS NOT VALUE

An ordinary share is a unit of ownership in a company, not a claim on any specific asset the company holds. BBCI shareholders owned a proportional stake in the corporate entity that held the concession to operate the Berbice River Bridge and collect tolls on it — not a physical fraction of the bridge itself.

The figure Cheong provided — $1 per share — is the par value: a nominal figure fixed at incorporation for legal and accounting purposes, unrelated to what the company, or the asset it controls, is actually worth. A company can carry a $1 par value on its shares while the underlying enterprise is worth billions, or comparatively little, depending entirely on the balance sheet behind it. Confirming that the government paid par confirms only that — not that par reflected the bridge’s value, BBCI’s asset base, or the state’s total cost of assuming control.

The $400 million figure prices one instrument, at a nominal rate, with no balance sheet attached to it. It is not a valuation of the bridge. It was never presented as one.

THE NUMBER THAT WAS NOT ASKED FOR

Former Public Works Minister David Patterson has said the $400 million price struck him as “surprisingly low” set against BBCI’s own former position — pointing to an $8 billion asking price the company placed on the bridge between 2015 and 2020, and to documents showing BBCI reported debts exceeding $6 billion in October 2018 while seeking steep toll increases from the then government. Those increases were rejected. Patterson has since said he suspects “there is something else in the arrangement” beyond the straightforward sale of ordinary shares.

None of that gap has been reconciled by anything Cheong has said. A $6 billion 2018 debt position and an $8 billion self-assessed asking price sit, unexplained, alongside a $400 million transaction described only as the nominal value of one class of equity. If BBCI’s finances genuinely improved enough after 2020 — through higher traffic, cost controls, and a more constructive relationship with government, as the company itself has claimed — to make a sub-par sale plausible, that improvement should be demonstrable on a balance sheet. No such balance sheet has been produced, to Kiskadee Watch or to this newsroom.

THE QUESTION A PUBLISHED PIECE SHOULD ASK

It is not productive to ask Cheong, or BBCI, for the Cabinet documents a second time. That door has already been closed, and there is no reason to expect it opens on request from a different outlet. The more productive question is not addressed to BBCI at all. It is addressed to the institutions accountable for how public money was spent and what the public now owns as a result:

♦ What did the people, by way of the government, receive for $400 million?

That is the only question this transaction was ever really about, and it remains entirely open. It requires answers on at least four fronts:

♦Asset valuation. Was any independent valuation of BBCI’s shares, assets, or the bridge itself conducted before the acquisition — by the Finance Ministry, NICIL, or the Auditor General? NICIL was itself a BBCI shareholder and is the state’s designated asset-holding vehicle; it is positioned to answer this directly.

♦Assumed liabilities. What obligations, if any, did the state assume beyond the $400 million ordinary-share payment? Cheong’s claim that other obligations were “settled from the company’s own funds” asserts BBCI had sufficient reserves to clear a debt position Patterson placed above $6 billion in 2018 — a claim that itself warrants scrutiny rather than acceptance.

♦The preference shares and other instruments. The National Insurance Scheme alone has been reported to hold $950 million in BBCI preference shares — more than double the entire ordinary-share transaction — separate from the $80 million in ordinary shares addressed in Cheong’s disclosure. What became of that holding, and of any bonds or subordinated debt, has not been stated.

♦The cost of the arrangement since. Crossings have been free to the public since August 2025, with government covering tolls directly. What is the annual cost of that commitment, and was it weighed against the $400 million figure in any account of whether this was value for public money? 

WHAT THIS IS NOT

This is not an allegation of wrongdoing in the transaction itself. Nothing in the public record establishes that the price paid was improper, only that it has not been explained. The government is entitled to acquire the bridge on whatever terms it negotiated. The public is equally entitled to know what those terms actually secured — in assets, in liabilities retired, and in the total cost of the state’s new ownership of a bridge it says it will now replace with a four-lane, high-span successor, on a timeline it has not connected to this transaction in any public statement.

A par-value share count is not that account. Until the Finance Ministry, NICIL, or the Auditor General produce one, the $400 million figure remains what it has been from the outset: a number without a balance sheet behind it.

— The Board

 

Enforce First, Verify Never

592 GUARDIAN◊ACCOUNTABILITY◊INTEGRITY IN JOURNALISM◊GUYANA

 Enforce First, Verify Never


A sitting High Court judge was turned away at Georgetown’s check-in counter over a US visa flag the American Embassy itself says it knew nothing about. Four days on, no institution named in this sequence has explained how a decision with that much weight was allowed to travel faster than the truth

On Saturday, September 19, High Court Judge Gino Persaud arrived to travel to Kingston, Jamaica, for the Commonwealth Magistrates’ and Judges’ Association Annual Conference — a gathering whose stated purpose is judicial independence, integrity, and good governance. He did not board. Airline staff informed him his United States visa was “under review” and advised him to contact the US Embassy.  His itinerary required transit through Miami; he was stopped in Georgetown, before ever leaving Guyanese soil. He rebooked on another carrier and reached Kingston a day late.

That a judge missed a day of a conference is not, by itself, the story. What is the story is the order in which things happened — and the list of people who, by their own account, did not know why.

THE SEQUENCE

By the time US Ambassador Nicole Theriot addressed the matter on the sidelines of the Americas Regional Conference, the visa flag had already reached an airline’s boarding system in Georgetown, already stopped a sitting judge from traveling, and already become public knowledge in Guyana — all before, on her account, the Embassy she leads had any idea why.

“I don’t have that information because those reviews are done back in Washington, and we are not told until a decision is made. So we don’t find out here in Guyana until a visa has been revoked, and then we have to convey that information to the person.”

Set beside her own qualification — that the Embassy does, “on occasion,” submit the information that triggers such reviews, just not in this case; the timeline does not describe an Embassy that was informed and stayed quiet. It describes a flag that reached an airline’s system in Guyana before it reached the people Washington maintains here specifically to handle Guyana.

If that is accurate, it is not a communication delay. It is a process that enforces before it verifies, and verifies only when a newsroom asks.

A CASE THAT WAS ALREADY ON FILE

This did not happen to an anonymous traveler. Attorney General Anil Nandlall has confirmed that government was critical of a ruling by Justice Persaud barring the Guyana Revenue Authority from reopening a tax assessment on imported vehicles after duties had already been calculated — a ruling that intersects, at minimum by subject matter, with a Lamborghini import cited in a US federal grand jury’s eleven-count indictment. Whether that intersection is the reason for the visa review is not established. It does not need to be established to ask the question: did anyone, at any point in this chain, check whether the sitting judge they were about to deny boarding to was the same judge named in connection with a live US prosecution file — before, not after, the denial?

Nandlall says the government had no hand in the US decision. Neither the President nor the Vice President, he notes, has authority over American visa policy. That may well be true, and it answers one question. It does not answer the others. A denial of government involvement is not a demonstration of due diligence by anyone else in the chain — the airline, the reviewing authority in Washington, or the Embassy that says it was not consulted.

WHO WAS SILENT

Georgetown’s airport and airline staff deal with a small, known pool of frequent travelers. A sitting High Court judge, traveling with a delegation of Guyanese judicial officers to a judicial conference, is not a name that passes through unrecognized. Whether frontline staff had the authority to pause and escalate before enforcing a system flag is a fair question to the airline. Whether anyone with that authority chose not to use it is a fair question to whoever operated behind them.

The Commonwealth Magistrates’ and Judges’ Association convened more than 430 delegates from 44 countries in Kingston under the banner “Sustainable Justice, For Today, For Tomorrow, For All.” One of its own delegates was stopped en route to that conference over an unexplained flag on the day the conference opened. Four days into a five-day gathering built around judicial independence, the Association, the Jamaican Judiciary hosting it, and the Guyanese Judiciary have said nothing public about a member of their own being turned back.

Silence from an institution whose entire mandate is the integrity of judicial office, in a case involving one of its own delegates, is itself a fact worth recording.

WHAT WE ARE ASKING

This board does not allege coordination it cannot prove. We are asking, in public, the questions that four institutions have so far left unanswered:

1.To the United States Embassy in Georgetown: If the review was not initiated on information the Embassy submitted, what is the standard process by which a visa flag reaches an airline’s boarding system in a third country before the resident Embassy is briefed — and does that process allow for local verification before enforcement, or only after?

2.To the US Department of State: Is a boarding denial based on a visa “under review” status standard practice absent a final revocation, and what safeguards, if any, apply when the traveler holds sitting judicial office in the host country?

3.To the Guyana Revenue Authority and the Attorney General’s Chambers: Has any Guyanese authority, formally or informally, shared information related to Justice Persaud’s ruling on vehicle-import tax assessments with any US agency, at any point before September 19?

4.To the Commonwealth Magistrates’ and Judges’ Association and the Judiciary of Guyana: Given the Association’s stated mandate on judicial independence and integrity, why has neither body publicly acknowledged that a delegate travelling to this year’s conference was blocked en route on his way to attend it?

5.To American Airlines’ Georgetown operation: At what point in the boarding process was the visa flag received, and did any staff member with authority to escalate have the opportunity to verify the traveler’s identity and status before enforcing the denial?

WHY THIS BOARD IS ASKING

This board has long noted — in our coverage of this government’s own “bite with no teeth” pattern; that public bodies announce measures they never enforce. This is close to the inverse: a measure enforced before anyone charged with explaining it had an answer ready. Both patterns share the same defect. The public, and in this case a sitting judge, is left to absorb the consequence of a decision that the people responsible for it cannot yet account for.

We note, too, that scrutiny in this country is not evenly distributed. Activism and independent journalism in Guyana draw swift local response — official and otherwise. The country with genuine leverage over who crosses its borders has, on this occasion and by its own ambassador’s account, moved without anyone here being consulted at all.

A system that enforces first and explains only under press inquiry is not accountable by design. It becomes accountable only when someone insists on it.

We are insisting on it. We will publish what we receive, and we will note, by name, whoever declines to answer.

— The Board

From America to Guyana: Witch hunt (visa review)

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From America to Guyana: Witch hunt (visa review)


OPINION BY : GHK LALL September 2026

Over three hundred years after Massachusetts, its plague strikes Georgetown.  Over three quarters of a century after Wisconsin, that same meteor hits Guyana.  It’s a bunker buster.  Everyone keeping their heads low; who doesn’t have cover run to find it.  In Massachusetts, the place was called Salem.  It earned immortal infamy for witch hunts; the many set afire to drive the devil out of them.  From Wisconsin came a washed-out alcoholic who became an American hero.  Joe McCarthy was his name; scaring people was his game.  Even his own Republican Senators, even his Republican President, war superstar Eisenhower, feared him.  Joe McCarthy hated commies.  Wonder about his disposition with the closet ones here. 

For Guyanese unfamiliar with ‘McCarthyism’ a primer.  It was about hunting for red snakes in offices, in the army, anywhere he could find them.  He was adaptable.  When he couldn’t find subversives, he manufactured them.  McCarthyism didn’t die when he died. McCarthyism has fastened its fangs deep in Guyana, thanks to PPP Guyana.  In fairness to the dead senator’s memory, witch hunts are not new to Guyana.  The PPP Govt has Live in Guyana.  Guyana’s Minister of Justice, Hon Anil Nandlall is tongue-tied, handcuffed, trussed up (chickenlike) when Live in Guyana practices its dirty scares, its witch hunts.  If I had the secret support of Guyana’s biggest presences, witch hunting might be a calling considered.  Senior Counsel Nandlall pretends ignorance of that existence, helpless in doing anything.  Dr. Clifton Hicken, Top Cop, also respects darkness, seeks distance.  Thus, witch hunts and red scares (the proper party color) abound unchecked.  Live in Guyana is a Guyana’s equivalent that embodies the characteristics of Germany’s Goebbels, Russia’s Stalin, and Guyana’s Burnham.  The PPP Govt respects Forbes Burnham so much that it hired one of his stars for its dirty work.

In sum, Guyanese who speak differently are diabolical, demonic degenerates .  Thus, the PPP witch hunts began.  So, they flourish.  Enter Washington.  Not Seattle, Washington, but Washington, District of Columbia.  The new McCarthyite red scare, the new American witch hunt, has a two-word name: visa review.  The loyalty factor of Harry Truman days.  The oath of honorable citizens demanded as proof of patriotism.  What standard was violated that necessitated “visa review” in the particular situation that now transfixes Guyana?  If a judge today, the jury is next, the public last.  If a judge, then damage has been done, mission accomplished.  The special relationship between PPP Guyana and Trump America marches deeper into local mudflats.  Deportees yesterday, visa review today.  Tomorrow could bring ICE to Guyana.  Cooling is needed.  Just not that chilling kind.

In the two-word hammer of “visa review” I recall other two-word labels that engineered much destruction.  One is Manifest Destiny, the second is domino effect.  Cheddi Jagan could have written books about both, if still here.  Manifest Destiny today means to own and control all the oil in this hemisphere.  Midterm changes or none, no one is walking those gains back.  Meanwhile, the domino effect means that no one must stand in the way.  No plan, no program, no plank must topple.  Therefore, a sacrificial lamb swaddles “visa review”, seemingly prompted by Guyana.  I hear a Final Solution warning: buckle down or be broken-down.  My God!  This is the America to which I gave my best years.

Wherever “visa review” terminates for a judge now besieged, of this one development, this one environment, this one commitment, be assured.  Guyana is now cow country.  Cowed into silence.  Cowed by the American hysterectomies performed on Guyanese men.  Cowed by American castrations of Guyanese womanhood.  Some balls must be developed on which to roll.  Because when the ball bearings go, the brains were already boiled and shredded.  I can see a Confederate Flag flying around Office of the President, Freedom House, Carmichael Street, other high Guyana offices.  It’s the price of power.

It is 2026.  In Guyana, it’s a redux of Salem in 1696 and McCarthy in 1956.  Consider the witch hunts and demagogic scares that now prosper in Guyana, or coming into Guyana from America.

THE LEDGER AND THE LOOPHOLE

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THE LEDGER AND THE LOOPHOLE


OPINION BY: Hem Kumar September 2026

What a Russian mine, a Trump donor, and a silent Treasury tell Guyana about how the powerful now do business

In June, the United States Treasury Department quietly granted a license permitting a Texas-registered shell company to acquire one of Armenia’s largest copper mines — a mine whose majority shareholder was VTB Bank, the Russian state institution Washington itself has called a “critical artery” of Moscow’s war economy. The company completing the purchase, Dynamic Frontier Holdings, is run by  Konstantin Sokolov, a Russian-American investor who had, weeks earlier, been appointed by the same administration to chair a $201 million State Department fund for infrastructure investment across the same region. Sokolov was also one of three dozen donors who financed President Trump’s $350 million White House ballroom.

The Treasury Department will not say why the license was granted. Sokolov’s spokesperson insists there is “no evidential basis” linking the donation to the approval. Perhaps there isn’t. But the absence of an evidentiary trail is not, in this case, evidence of the absence of a pattern — it is the pattern. What the Teghut transaction exposes is not a single instance of favor-trading, provable or otherwise. It exposes a mode of governance in which access to a sanctioned adversary’s assets, appointment to steward the public’s money, and private commercial gain sit so close together that no one; not Treasury, not the State Department, not the beneficiary himself; feels obliged to draw a line between them.

A FUND BUILT AROUND ITS OWN CHAIRMAN’S PORTFOLIO

The particulars matter. Sokolov’s TRIPP+ Enterprise Fund was created to direct capital into transportation, energy infrastructure, and critical minerals across the South Caucasus and Central Asia. Sokolov’s private holdings — telecommunications, fiber-optic networks, copper-molybdenum mining — sit in precisely those sectors, in precisely that region. No founding charter, governance framework, or recusal policy for the fund has been made public. Reporters asking who actually controls investment decisions have been told, in effect, that the answer is not available. Then, within weeks of that appointment, the same government cleared the path for Sokolov’s company to absorb a strategic mineral asset out of a sanctioned Russian bank’s hands; a bank that itself described the transaction only in the vaguest terms, telling a Russian news agency it had sold to a “group of international investors” for roughly $46.5 million, without naming Sokolov at all.

Even the ownership trail beneath the deal is contested. When reporters pressed Sergei Virabyan — a former Armenian banking official whose company has also been named in connection with the purchase — on whether Sokolov was the mine’s true owner, he called the answer a “commercial secret.”

A strategic mineral deposit, sold by a sanctioned state bank, licensed by the US Treasury, and even now no one on the record will confirm who actually owns i

THIS IS NOT AN ISOLATED ARRANGEMENT — IT IS HOW THE LEDGER IS KEPT

Guyanese readers should not mistake this for a uniquely Armenian, or even uniquely Russian, story. A June 2026 analysis by the watchdog group Public Citizen found that two-thirds of the corporate donors to Trump’s ballroom project had received government contracts over the preceding five and a half years worth a combined $338 billion — and that more than half had secured new or expanded contracts, worth over $50 billion, in the six months immediately following their donations.

Sokolov’s case is not the exception that proves the rule. It is the rule, with a name attached.

Nor is Sokolov the only figure whose family ties intersect with foreign resource access under this administration. When Kazakhstan’s president offered a major tungsten mining concession to a US investment group, Trump’s own sons acquired a stake in the venture — backed, in turn, by more than a billion dollars in US Export-Import Bank and Development Finance Corporation commitments.

Different metal, different country, same architecture: proximity to the president converts, with startling regularity, into access to state-controlled resources abroad.

A PATTERN THIS NEWSROOM RECOGNIZES

We raise this not merely as an American story but because its shape is one Guyanese readers should know by now — because we have documented its outline closer to home. This newsroom has tracked, over more than a year, how the deepwater port planned for the mouth of the Berbice River moved from a 2015 Chinese pre-feasibility interest to a Bechtel- and Hess-led feasibility study, without either government ever issuing a public statement establishing that the earlier arrangement had lapsed, been superseded, or been formally terminated. We have asked, repeatedly and so far without answer, whether Guyana’s own government or Beijing’s has anything to say about how or why that shift occurred.

Neither has said anything. The silence has simply been left to stand, as though a strategic national asset changing geopolitical hands required no explanation to the public whose asset it is.

That is the same silence sitting underneath the Teghut sale. It is the same silence that let a $201 million public fund be handed to a donor without a published governance charter. It is not that Washington and Georgetown are engaged in the same transaction, or even the same rivalry — they are not.

It is that both capitals have discovered, independently, that the public no longer needs to be told how its strategic assets move, so long as no law technically requires it. Opacity, in both cases, is not a failure of disclosure. It is the operating method.

WHAT ACCOUNTABILITY WOULD ACTUALLY REQUIRE

A defensible OFAC license is not, by itself, corrupt. Specific licenses exist precisely so that sanctioned counterparties can be wound down in an orderly way, and Treasury’s discretion to grant one is not inherently suspect. What is indefensible is a system in which the public — American or Guyanese is asked to trust that discretion was exercised on its merits, while every party positioned to explain those merits declines to do so. Treasury will not answer questions about the license. The fund has no public charter. The bank that sold the asset won’t name the buyer. The buyer’s own business partner calls the ownership a secret.

Guyana’s own experience should make this legible in an instant. We have asked before, and we ask again: when a strategic asset moves between great powers, at what point does the public whose country it concerns have a right to be told what happened, and why? Washington has just supplied a fresh, well-documented answer: not automatically, and not unless someone insists.

— The Board

The Balloon Squeeze

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 The Balloon Squeeze


OPINION BY : Hem Kumar September 2026         

 How a failed drug war became the biggest oil deal in history — and pushed the traffic our way

One year ago, the United States announced it had killed eleven people aboard a boat off the Venezuelan coast. The justification was drugs. There was no wreckage shown, no court, no named organization at first — only a Truth Social post and a video of an explosion at sea. President Trump called the dead “narco-terrorists.” The campaign that began with that strike now has a name, Operation Southern Spear, a body count exceeding 220, and an outcome its own architects did not advertise: it did not stop a single kilogram of cocaine from reaching the United States. It did, however, end with Washington holding a controlling stake in 65 billion barrels of Venezuelan oil, and with drug flights over Guyanese and Surinamese airspace rising as traffickers rerouted around it.  

Both facts come from the record. Neither made it into President Trump’s account of his own foreign policy at the United Nations General Assembly this week, where he told the world the strikes had cut drug flows by 97 percent. His own Drug Enforcement Administration disagrees.

THE PRETEXT

The strikes began September 2, 2025, under the banner of interdiction. The legal theory was that the United States was in “armed conflict” with drug cartels, which meant the normal law-enforcement framework — interception, arrest, prosecution — could be replaced by summary lethal strikes in international waters, without congressional authorization and without the burden of proving, in any court, that the people killed were doing what they were accused of. Senator Jack Reed, the ranking Democrat on the Senate Armed Services Committee, said plainly at the time that the military was not “empowered to hunt down suspected criminals and kill them without trial.” The administration proceeded anyway.

By December, the total stood at 87 dead across 22 strikes. By the time reporters could compile a fuller account in the spring, more than twenty strikes had killed over 100 people. The pace never slowed. Following reports that the first strike had included a follow-on hit to kill survivors in the water, Congress opened an inquiry and summoned the Navy commander who had overseen the operation for classified briefings. The administration’s answer to skepticism was less evidence, not more: officials described “big bags of cocaine and fentanyl” spattered across the ocean after one strike, and released no images to support the claim.

Venezuela’s government denied throughout that it played any organizing role in the trafficking the strikes were meant to punish. American intelligence agencies, by multiple accounts, disputed the administration’s central claim that Nicolás Maduro’s government was directing Tren de Aragua and the drug trade themselves. One argument aired early and often, including by critics inside the security establishment: the true objective was not interdiction but regime change, with the drug war supplying the pretext oil politics alone could not.

THE ESCALATION

By October 2025 the campaign had outgrown its own justification. Strikes that began near the Venezuelan coast expanded into the wider Caribbean and the eastern Pacific, hitting boats near Colombia and Ecuador. Trump authorized covert CIA operations inside Venezuela. The military buildup in the region became, by multiple accounts, the largest in Latin America in decades; an aircraft carrier, F-35s, a nuclear submarine — and Trump began speaking openly of land strikes to come.

They came. In January 2026, U.S. forces struck inside Venezuela and captured Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores. Within days, Trump was no longer talking about interdicting drug shipments. He was announcing that Venezuela’s new interim government, led by Delcy Rodríguez, would hand over 30 to 50 million barrels of oil to the United States — “to benefit the people,” he said, of both countries.

That was the opening bid. By August, it had grown by three orders of magnitude.

THE PAYOFF

On August 28, 2026, Trump announced what the White House called “the biggest oil deal in world history”: majority U.S. control of more than 65 billion barrels of Venezuela’s proven reserves. The structure, released days later, was not a direct state transfer Venezuela’s interim authorities granted North American Blue Energy Partners — a private company controlled by Venezuelan businessman Alejandro Betancourt, headquartered in Barbados; 100-year concessions across 17 oil fields. NABEP in turn gave the U.S. Office of Strategic Capital a 35 percent equity stake in its corporate parent, which the White House factsheet said represented “up to hundreds of billions in value and dividends for the United States.”

Washington does not directly own the oil in the ground. It owns a piece of the company that now controls a century of access to it.

The fact-check arithmetic on Trump’s UN claim; that the U.S. and Venezuela together hold “more than 60 percent of the oil in the world” — is worth sitting with for what it reveals about the whole campaign’s rhetorical method, not just its inaccuracy. Venezuela’s proven reserves run to roughly 303 billion barrels; the U.S. holds about 46 billion. Together that is closer to 22 percent of global reserves, not 60. But the deeper distortion is upstream of the arithmetic: Trump described a 65-billion-barrel concession, routed through a private Barbadian holding company in which the U.S. holds a minority equity stake, as if it were sovereign American possession of the entire Venezuelan reserve base.

A year of strikes justified as narcotics enforcement produced, at the end of the line, a resource-access arrangement that the President Trump then rounded up to ownership of most of the world’s oil.

THE FAILURE AT THE CENTER OF IT

What the campaign did not produce is the part the administration has had to fight hardest to keep quiet. A Drug Enforcement Administration assessment, reported by the Washington Post in July and independently corroborated in a closed-door congressional briefing, found that the strikes had not moved the price, purity, or street availability of cocaine in the United States at any point in the year. Customs and Border Protection’s own seizure data showed cocaine volumes in the ten months after the strikes began were two percent higher than in the ten months before. Pentagon officials confirmed the same finding to the Senate Armed Services Committee. The current commander overseeing the operation has told Congress the boat strikes “aren’t the answer.”

What the strikes did produce was displacement, not deterrence. Traffickers abandoned the small “go-fast” boats that were the strikes’ preferred target, shifted to larger commercial vessels, moved closer to coastlines where the U.S. is less willing to fire, and increasingly turned to aircraft leaving clandestine airstrips on the Colombia-Venezuela border. According to the DEA’s own assessment, those flights now head east — to Guyana and Suriname.

“When you squeeze the balloon on one side, it always expands on the other side,” one DEA official told the Post. Guyana is where part of it expanded to.

WHAT THIS MEANS HERE

The  592 Guardian has documented separately the migration cooperation framework under which the United States is routing third-country deportees through Guyana, with the vetting process and accommodation arrangements undisclosed and no legislative framework governing any of it. That arrangement did not emerge in a vacuum. It sits inside a wider regional posture in which Washington has spent a year building the largest military presence in Latin America in generations, capturing a head of state, and converting the operation’s aftermath into a resource-access deal — all while the stated purpose of the campaign, drug interdiction, failed on every metric the government itself tracks.

Displaced trafficking routes are not an abstraction for a country sitting on the flight path traffickers have chosen specifically because it is harder for U.S. forces to reach. It is a regional security fact with a Guyanese address, generated by a policy Guyana had no part in shaping and was not consulted on. The oil deal’s optics — American equity in Venezuelan concessions, American forces reshaping Venezuelan governance — sit alongside the accelerating US-China positioning this media has tracked around the Berbice deepwater port and the Hess-Bechtel financing shift.

Guyana is not a bystander to what Washington does in this hemisphere. It is increasingly a receiving end.

The timeline sharpens the point. On August 12, 2026, the United States signed an enhanced US$2 million security cooperation memorandum with Guyana for “air domain awareness and unmanned aerial systems,” announced by Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau and Foreign Minister Hugh Todd and framed publicly around organised crime and drug trafficking in general terms. No operational detail was disclosed — not the data-sharing architecture, not what triggered the timing, not why air surveillance specifically. That MoU was signed two weeks after the Washington Post’s report on the DEA’s internal assessment, which had already identified Guyana by name as a destination for trafficking flights displaced by the boat-strike campaign.

A modest line item pitched as routine security cooperation reads differently once it is placed next to the document that shows Washington’s own drug agency had, by then, mapped the very air corridor the MoU was funded to watch.

This publication  has been unable to confirm operational linkage between the two — the administration has disclosed neither — but the sequence is no longer circumstantial enough to ignore, and it belongs in the same accountability file as the deportee framework: another arrangement whose real rationale was not the one stated in public, but was kept shrouded in secrecy .

None of this required Guyanese officials to say a word for it to reach Guyanese airspace. That, more than any single fact-check of a UN speech, is the story: a policy sold on one metric, justified after the fact by a different and much larger prize, whose actual costs are still being paid by the people standing nearest to the parts of it that failed.


Footage of an actual strike : https://www.southcom.mil/News/PressReleases/Article/4606750/lethal-kinetic-strike-september-19-2026/?fbclid=IwRlRTSAUgu7VwZG9mAWZkaWQWUO_VnyLw8ytO0kvC4L4g5G6EHOlyM2V4dG4DYWVtAjExAHNydGMGYXBwX2lkCjY2Mjg1NjgzNzkAAR6CfgAVMZ_Jk7YLrgmYwBW9_gzyFmWaVHD_dkgBSSKG1qYJvfFY9qrSzgGDXQ_aem_hAzwVhysSQEMLXip1jShMg 


Sources: The New York Times (Linda Qiu, Sept. 22, 2026); The Washington Post (Alex Horton, July 27, 2026, and Post opinion desk, July 28, 2026); NPR (Nov. 12, 2025; Jan. 7, 2026; July 28, 2026); Axios (Oct. 28, 2025); Britannica; Georgetown School of Foreign Service (Michael Shifter analysis); Bloomberg (Sept. 1, 2026); Foundation for Defense of Democracies (Sept. 2, 2026); Energy Connects; WOLA civil society letter (Sept. 2026); Fortune (Jan. 3, 2026); U.S.-Guyana Security Cooperation MoU, Aug. 12, 2026 (Landau/Todd).

The Silence in Two Places

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 The Silence in Two Places


OPINION BY: Hem Kumar September 2026

Guyana disappears from PAHO’s public warning. Its own Ministry of Health has been just as quiet.

When the Pan American Health Organization issued its first regional Situation Report on the strengthening El Niño phenomenon this month, Guyana was nowhere in it. Not in the Caribbean drought list. Not among the eight countries or territories with formal emergency declarations. Not in the Andean or Amazonian sections that named Colombia, Peru, and Brazil in specific and sobering detail. Every regional outlet that picked up the wire summary — Kaieteur News, Breaking Belize News, Carib Pulse — repeated the same list, and Guyana was absent from all of them.

Table 1. Summary of key public health risks in the context of El Niño, 2026–2027

Dry conditions   Wet conditions  
Public health  Level of risk Public health risk  Level of risk
Malnutrition  Very High Risk  Malnutrition Very High Risk 
Cholera waterborne diseases Very High Risk  Cholera waterborne disease Very High Risk 
Heat stress  Very High Malaria  Very High Risk 
Arboviral disease  Dengue, Zika, Chikungunya, Oropouche and Yellow Fever  Very High Arboviral disease  Dengue, Zika, Chikungunya, Oropouche and Yellow Fever  Very High Risk 
Measles  Very High Measles  Very High Risk 
Malaria  High Risk  vector-borne diseases  High Risk 
vector-borne diseases  High Risk  vaccine-preventable diseases  High Risk 
vaccine-preventable High Risk  Respiratory diseases  High Risk 
Respiratory High Risk  Maternal and child High Risk 
Maternal and child High Risk  Direct injuries  High Risk 
Direct injuries  High Risk  Gender- violence High Risk 
Gender- violence High Risk  mental-psychosocial (MHPSS) High Risk 
mental-psychosocial (MHPSS) High Risk  Accidents by venomous animals  High Risk 
Accidents by venomous animals High Risk  Rodent-borne diseases  Moderate Risk 
Rodent- diseases  Moderate Human rabies   Moderate
Human rabies  Moderate Biotoxins: fish and shellfish poisoning  Moderate
Biotoxins: fish and shellfish poisoning  Moderate Myasis caused by New World screwworm Moderate
Myasis caused by New World screwworm Moderate Heat stress  Moderate

 It would be easy to read that as good news. It isn’t. It’s an omission — and pairing PAHO’s public silence with our own health authorities’ silence tells a more useful story than either one alone.

Guyana is in PAHO’s data. It just isn’t in PAHO’s headline.

The Situation Report is a press summary. The document underneath it;  PAHO’s June 2026 Public Health Situation Analysis, ninety-some pages of technical risk assessment — tells a different story, and Guyana is in it repeatedly.

It appears in the historical table of countries with documented dry-condition El Niño impacts, alongside Suriname, Venezuela, and northern Brazil. It appears by name in the subregional risk overview, which identifies “portions of Colombia, Venezuela, Guyana, Suriname, northern Brazil, and the Amazon basin” as high-risk areas for the drier, hotter conditions El Niño typically brings to northern South America. And it appears, more pointedly, in the malaria section: PAHO’s own researchers cite a “statistically significant relationship” between El Niño and malaria incidence specifically in “Colombia, Guyana, Peru, and Venezuela,” with droughts historically preceding epidemics in exactly this cluster of countries.

So the technical analysis has Guyana flagged, by name, for one of the diseases with the clearest documented climate linkage anywhere in the report. The public-facing press release — the version that made international news, the version most Guyanese would actually encounter — dropped it.

That is not a scandal. Press releases summarize; they can’t carry every country. But it does mean the accountability question was never really about PAHO’s institutional knowledge. PAHO knows. The question is what happens to that knowledge once it’s supposed to travel from a regional technical document into a national health response — and there, the silence changes character entirely.

Hydromet has been loud. The Ministry of Health has not.

To be fair to Guyana’s institutions: this is not a case of nobody speaking. The Hydrometeorological Service has been issuing advisories since May, warning of below-normal rainfall, up to 80 heatwave days, and short-term drought risk in Regions Eight and Nine. The Ministry of Agriculture ran a stakeholders’ preparedness forum on September 1st, bringing farmers, cattle rearers, and fisherfolk together with Hydromet and the National Drainage and Irrigation Authority to talk water conservation and climate-smart planning.

That is real, credible, public preparedness work — on the climate and agricultural side.

What’s missing is the equivalent public activation on the health side. PAHO’s own analysis names malaria as a very-high-risk disease for Guyana specifically under El Niño’s dry-condition pathway — the same pathway Hydromet is actively warning about. Guyana still carries a meaningful malaria burden concentrated in mining and hinterland regions, the same remote areas that will be hit first and hardest by the water scarcity Hydromet is forecasting. Yet nothing has surfaced from the Ministry of Health specifically invoking El Niño, activating a contingency plan, or briefing the public on disease surveillance in the way its climate counterparts have.

The comparison worth making isn’t to Brazil or Peru — countries with structurally different exposure. It’s to Kenya, a country of comparable income level and comparable seasonal vulnerability, whose Ministry of Health has, this El Niño cycle, publicly activated a named “Health Sector El Niño Contingency Plan,” issued advisories to all 47 counties, pre-positioned laboratory supplies and rapid diagnostic kits, and put a named official on record explaining exactly which diseases are being watched and why. Whatever the internal reality inside Guyana’s Ministry of Health — and there may well be preparation happening that has simply not been made public — the public record shows a gap where Kenya shows a plan.

Two silences, one pattern

This fits a shape readers of this outlet will recognize. It is not that nothing is happening — Hydromet’s advisories are genuine, technical, and reasonably frequent. It is that the health dimension of a documented health risk, flagged by the region’s own health authority, has not generated the same public accountability trail as the climate dimension has. Malaria surveillance data, contingency planning, and public risk communication from the Ministry of Health are precisely the kind of specifics that would either confirm preparedness or expose its absence — and right now, there is nothing on the public record to check against.

We are not asserting that Guyana’s health authorities are unprepared. We are asserting that the public has no way to know either way, and that a PAHO document naming this country, by name, for a specific and documented disease risk should have produced a public answer by now.

We have sought comment from the Ministry of Health on whether an El Niño-specific health contingency plan exists, and whether malaria surveillance in Regions One, Seven, Eight, and Nine has been adjusted in light of the current forecast. We will publish their response in full if and when it comes.

This is the latest installment in The 592 Guardian’s ongoing coverage of El Niño preparedness and accountability in Guyana.

Pres Ali on fire; Guyanese go up in smoke

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Pres Ali on fire; Guyanese go up in smoke


OPINION BY: GHK LALL September 2026

On each occasion that I think I am the craziest person in this swath of South America, there’s someone crazier than I can ever be.  And don’t be mistaken.  It’s not dollars and cents crazy.  Try a million dollars crazier, maybe as much as a billion.  These are the circumstances that ran through the mind, then became stick.  Because the idea stuck.

Try hand and luck.  Take the plunge.  Apply for a GY$3 million loan from the sparking new, and promisingly different, Guyana Development (GDB).  Why not?  It’s money up for grabs, and a sweet bargain from the PPP Govt is as good as any.  The first hiccup came as a warning.  Made me pause.  Think things over.  Then, the second hiccup came, thanks to the good and caring offices of Guyana’s erudite president, Dr. Ali.  Whatever hesitation I had before came to a full reversal.  Not I.  Me nah dah stupidee. 

The first warning hiccup sneaked into the consciousness in the form of a question.  What if the loan application is leaked into the public space?  Jesus Christ!  There would be hell to pay; it would be the end of me.  Follow the thread, please.  He duz baad taak de PPP Guvement, but he run fuh barrow the millions frum de same people he cuss.  If there is any Guyanese who see reasoning with that kind of mentality, please come forward for a ringside seat.  Is he not the same man that cast a suspicious eye at the minister and the bank managers even before the latter was name?  Did he not have the audacity to ask some hard questions of the same new bank, where the millions are not enough for him to put out his paws?  Whoever thinks any diehard or PPP hardhead has time for nuisances, such as it is not Excellency Ali or Dr. Jagdeo’s money, had better think again.  I was hanging on a string.  Should I change my mind and let the GDB loan facility go to waste?  Or do I step boldly forward?

Pres Ali then came to the rescue and sealed the decision.  No more thinking of, no longer applying for, a loan from the GDB.  Not even for a $100 to give to a homeless brother or sister down on their luck.  As an aside, they outright reject any $20 offering.  This is to what the once prized ‘Malali’ has now degraded.  According to the media releases, borrowers from the GDB will be honored by having their names placed in the public domain.  Whoever is thrilled at that development can have it.  Whoever sees a positive in that idea is so far gone as to be beyond salvaging.  Did somebody say it is a branch of Pres Ali’s vaunted transparency (on which he is yet to deliver)?

If that is so, then they encourage their own quiet and conservative commercial bank to put the details of their borrowings on some portal that the world can easily access. Such is done only to deadbeats and welshers.

In my time, I have come across some real hairbrained situations.  The GDB publishing of borrowers’ interest and approval must rank right up there among the biggest losers.  Is the president hallucinating?  Wherever he is at, and whatever is his objective, I can’t help thinking that he believes with all his heart that this is a great, big, idea that is unmatched anywhere that sound banking practices are in operation. 

He is right.  It is unmatched, but not in the way that the president may be thinking.  In short, bankers and lenders do not go near to what sounds and looks like some half-baked and half-dead vision. 

Whichever the school Pres Ali that attended, I must remind myself to steer clear of it.  The challenge for me is that whenever there is the belief that Guyana’s president can’t descend into the unknown, he proves everyone wrong, by doing precisely so.