Archive for category: Special Feature

The Nouveau Riche of Oil: How Guyana Grew a Class It Never Had

OPINION BY: Hem Kumar . —September 2026 

There was no capital base large enough to produce a true domestic wealthy class, only a colonial one that left with the colonizers and a commercial layer that never approached the scale of what oil has now made possible.

Whatever else can be said about that era, it did not have a Guyanese class of people who could write personal checks in the hundreds of thousands of US dollars.

That class exists now. The question this piece asks is not whether wealth has grown in Guyana since 2019 — it obviously has, nationally, by any macroeconomic measure. The question is whether that wealth has produced, for the first time in the country’s history, a domestic class positioned above the law of ordinary income — a class whose wealth accumulation has outpaced anything a public salary could produce, sitting inside a state that has neither the will nor the machinery to ask how.

The mechanism, not just the outcome

Two documented cases now sit in the public record — not as opposition talking points, but as filings.

Mustapha. The Guyana Geology and Mines Commission’s own Mineral Map shows 7,614 acres of mining land allocated since 2023 to Agriculture Minister Zulfikar Mustapha’s two sons and daughter-in-law — allocations that bypassed long-standing local applicants, according to the allegation that prompted the minister’s public response. Mustapha’s rebuttal does not dispute the acreage; it disputes the characterization, insisting the allocations followed lawful procedure, and counters that the family of his chief accuser, WIN leader Azruddin Mohamed, controls more mining land still. Both things can be true.

Rodrigues. The documentary trail here is this writer’s own, published across a series of Stabroek News letters beginning January 7, 2026, built entirely on public Florida and Broward County records, and unrebutted by any competing document in the nine months since. Florida Division of Corporations filings list Tourism Minister Susan Rodrigues as Manager and Authorized Person of Revelle Investments LLC, registered January 16, 2024, alongside Denisha Bobb — who, per a September 2025 shareholder resolution filed with a separate Guyana-registered company, has since legally changed her name to Denisha Rodrigues by new birth certificate.

On March 11, 2024, a Warranty Deed shows Amil Dial Homes LLC selling a property at 8601 NW 46th Ct, Lauderhill, to “Susan Margaret Rodrigues, Single,” for US$540,000, financed by a US$378,000 mortgage from A&D Mortgage. The very next day, March 12, Rodrigues executed a Quit Claim Deed transferring the same property from her own name into Revelle Investments LLC for a nominal $10 — a deed that, per my own  reporting, specifically states no title search was performed. That deed was recorded with Broward County on April 9, 2024, and the Broward County Property Appraiser’s records now list Revelle Investments LLC as owner.

A&D Mortgage’s own 2024 Form 1098 — the official tax document Rodrigues has pointed to as proof of transparency — shows the loan originating March 11, 2024 at $378,000, and an Ending Principal Balance of $0.00 as of the December 31, 2024 reporting date: a 30-year mortgage apparently extinguished within the same calendar year it began. This writer’s published reporting reads that zero balance as consistent with only two possibilities in ordinary banking practice — the loan was paid in full, or it never functioned as genuine long-term debt to begin with — and notes that Broward County’s public record does not show the Satisfaction of Mortgage that Florida Statute -SS 701.04 would ordinarily require to formally close out a paid loan. No document contradicting that reading — no recorded satisfaction, no assignment, no alternative explanation from Rodrigues or A&D Mortgage — has surfaced in public since that specific reporting was first published in January. Our own findings were formally filed with the Florida Office of Financial Regulation, and remain, as of this writing, under active review. Rodrigues separately acknowledged purchasing two lots at Peters Hall, financed by mortgage—which by AML-CFT rules, ought to have been flagged  by the issuing bank–under qualifying criteria–with title signed October 10, 2024 — while she held a ministerial portfolio overseeing the award of lands and titles.

None of this reporting has been legally challenged by Rodrigues in the months since publication. What she has done instead is emblematic of a pattern this outlet has documented more than once. The Integrity Commission was established by Act No. 20 of 1997 as an autonomous body, explicitly “not subject to the direction or control of any other person or authority.” President Ali, by his own account, personally reviewed the Revelle Investments matter and pronounced himself satisfied — accepting an explanation on the Commission’s behalf before it had so much as issued a subpoena.  This writer’s own published response to that intervention named it directly: Ali acting as Rodrigues’s “private investigator and clearance officer,” the Commission’s silence amounting to accepting its own termination “with a smile,” and the entire arrangement functioning, in this writer’s words, not as a barrier to corruption but as camouflage for it — a “ghost agency” retained chiefly to satisfy international donors with a veneer of legitimacy.

The same reflex surfaced again, days later, in an entirely different institutional setting. Following a government-vehicle crash involving the son of a sitting Home Affairs Minister — an incident that surfaced alongside unresolved public questions about a prior, fatal 2024 crash in which a woman, Salima Heeralal, lost her life — the Guyana Police Force offered no briefing, no preliminary findings, and no visible sign that routine procedure was underway. What filled that silence was not a police statement but a presidential assurance. Once again this writer’s published response to that episode asked the question directly: whether Ali’s early intervention, offered before investigators had spoken, did not so much calm the matter as signal to every level of authority what the acceptable conclusion should be — and whether presidential assurance had, in effect, replaced police investigation as the actual mechanism of accountability.

Three ministers, three entirely different institutions — a constitutional integrity body and a criminal police investigation — and in every instance– the same figure, the President, stepped in ahead of the institution’s own process to declare the matter settled.

That is not a defense mounted through the machinery the law built for the purpose, machinery explicitly designed to be independent of exactly this kind of interference. It is a verdict delivered from the Office of the President, replacing the ones those institutions were never allowed to reach.

The Benchmark: what MV Barima shows about how this administration actually works

By the time the MV Barima disaster occurred, the pattern above was not new — it was escalating. The same reflex that closed the Rodrigues and Waldron matters before their respective institutions could act is visible, at far higher stakes, in how this administration has handled the deaths of 73 people aboard that vessel.

The Commission of Inquiry into that disaster was not assembled through a visibly independent process. It was sworn in unilaterally by President Ali, behind closed doors, without press present, before commissioners’ potential conflicts of interest had been disclosed to the public. Two of those conflicts surfaced only through independent digging: commissioner Nyree Dawn Alfonso’s own law firm’s case record placed her alongside Keoma Griffith — now Ali’s Minister of Labour — as co-counsel in a prior Guyana Supreme Court matter, and Griffith’s professional bio was quietly scrubbed from that firm’s website in the days immediately before Alfonso’s swearing-in. A second appointee, Dr. Ivor English, brought to lead a “Safety and Compliance Audit Team,” turned out to still hold an active MARAD consultancy and a board seat at the Guyana National Shipping Corporation — auditing, in effect, an agency he remained institutionally embedded in. A third, the Commission’s own Secretary, was appointed from a family with a documented multi-decade proximity to the governing party.

None of these connections were volunteered by the Office of the President. All were established after the fact, by outside reporting.

Alongside the Commission sits the Attorney General, who moved within weeks of the disaster to warn grieving families against retaining independent lawyers, calling such representation potentially criminal — while the government’s own compensation channel, explicitly and repeatedly described by the state as “not compensation” and carrying no admission of liability, remained the only sanctioned route to relief. And alongside both sits a demonstrated operational capacity the state has not extended to its own citizens in crisis: when an opposition-led protest breached barricades at a vice-presidential outreach event, Coast Guard, police marine units and joint services mobilized within minutes; when the MV Barima’s captain radioed distress at roughly 10 p.m., the rescue vessel that reached the scene reportedly did not arrive until after 5 a.m. The state’s rapid-response machinery is real. It moves fastest to secure the government’s own comfort, not to save lives it has been slow to prioritize or challenges it would rather not answer.

Read together, this is not a portrait of an administration whose oversight institutions have simply atrophied. It is an administration that has learned to manage the appearance of institutional independence while retaining personal control over its outcome — swearing in inquiries whose composition it does not disclose, delivering verdicts on allegations before its own accountability bodies can rule, and closing off the avenues, legal or investigative, through which an outside party might reach a different conclusion. Once that pattern is visible at the scale of 73 deaths, it should not be read as coincidental at the scale of a minister’s mining acreage or a minister’s Florida LLC.

It is the same reflex, operating at lower volume, on a class of officials whose wealth has grown fastest since 2020, and who now sit inside a system this outlet has watched, case after case, decline to independently verify anything the Office of the President has already pronounced settled.

Why this is structural, not anecdotal

The Mustapha and Rodrigues cases, and the MV Barima Commission, sit inside a wider pattern this outlet has already documented independently:

♦ The REO/PS purge (May 2026): President Ali’s own stated justification for removing Regional Executive Officers and Permanent Secretaries nationwide was that officials and their family members had registered companies and captured public contracts — his government’s own admission that the mechanism exists at the administrative level, not just the ministerial one. Four months later, Vice President Jagdeo delivered nearly the same warning to the replacements, with no disclosed enforcement action in between.

♦ Long Creek: A 2011 State Lands lease names Bharrat Jagdeo as Lessor and “Mohamed Ali” as Lessee for land at Long Creek; independent satellite tracing puts the developed acreage near 155, against a lower figure implied by the President. Neither the lease nor the acreage gap has been resolved by any independent inquiry, despite a standing public demand for a Commission of Inquiry.

President Ali,155-acre farm at Long Creek

♦  The Development Bank Bill: passed without debate in July 2026, concentrating roughly $40 billion in discretionary allocation power in the Finance Minister’s office — a mechanism, not yet tested, for exactly the kind of capital access that could formalize and accelerate what is currently happening piecemeal through land and mining allocations.

None of these are proof of a coordinated scheme in the conspiratorial sense. They do not need to be. Taken together, they describe something more durable than a scandal:

An administration in which the president’s own pronouncements substitute for institutional verification, consistently, across ministries and across stakes as different as a mining allocation and a maritime disaster — and in which every nominally independent body positioned to check that pattern has, so far, either been appointed with undisclosed ties to it or been preempted by a presidential verdict before it could rule.

What this is not

This is not a claim that Guyana’s oil wealth is being stolen wholesale, and it should not be written as one. Mustapha and Rodrigues have both offered detailed, document-referenced rebuttals; some of what critics allege may be fully lawful. The claim is narrower, and it is not that any single official is guilty of anything a court has found.

It is that Guyana’s oil windfall has created, within six years, a visible domestic wealth tier — measured in mining acreage, US real estate, and corporate structures — with no precedent in the country’s economic history, sitting inside an administration that has repeatedly substituted the President’s own word for the independent verification its institutions exist to provide.

MV Barima shows what that substitution costs when the stakes are 73 lives and a submerged wreck nobody in authority seems in a hurry to raise. The same reflex, applied to a minister’s land holdings, a police investigation, or a minister’s LLC, costs less visibly, but it is drawn from the identical playbook: intervene early, declare the matter settled, and let the institution built to answer the question stand down before it has asked it.

 A closing note, not a verdict

None of what is documented above required this outlet to prove that any individual official broke the law. That was never the test applied here, and readers should notice that it wasn’t — because the pattern holds regardless of how any single case would resolve if it were ever actually tried.

What holds is this: three times, across three different institutions built for three different purposes — an integrity commission empowered by statute to be free of exactly this kind of interference, a police investigation into a fatal crash, a commission of inquiry into 73 deaths — the same office arrived first, spoke last, and closed the question before the institution assigned to it could open one

A country can survive individual corruption. Officials take what they shouldn’t, and if the institutions built to catch it are allowed to function, the wealth gets clawed back, the careers end, the system corrects

What a country cannot survive indefinitely is the quieter condition on display here:

A governing class whose fortunes grow fastest precisely where the mechanisms meant to check them have already been answered for, in advance, by the one office no mechanism was built to check. Whether that condition has a name — and what should be done about it — is left, deliberately, to the reader.