“Just a Bit Dirty”

By Altahir Satti

Mubarak Ardol has denied being a partner in Deep Metals, insisting that he is only its director. This reminds me of a scene from our primary school days during morning hygiene inspections. Teachers would even check our underwear, and one day a classmate was caught off guard when asked, “Why are your shorts so filthy?” Flustered, he replied, “They’re not filthy, sir—just a bit dirty!”

There’s little point in Ardol clarifying his role in the company—whether as shareholder or director. The distinction is meaningless when it comes to power and influence, since a director often wields even greater authority. And through that influence, Ardol managed to bring the company’s owners directly to the Minister of Minerals to express their desire to invest in Sudan’s mining sector.

Deep Metals, of course, cannot be blamed for seeking agreements with the government on any project. Not for submitting letters of intent, nor even if it were to extract every ounce of our minerals without a license, smuggle out the entire production, and pay not a single pound to the state. The fault would not be theirs.

It is foolish to blame mosquitoes when you sleep naked beside stagnant swamps without a net, or to curse the thief when your house has no walls, doors, or windows. Like all investors, Deep Metals’ responsibility is to seek profit for its shareholders, not to repair governments, fix laws, or reform officials.

And not only in Sudan, but globally, no company has ever rejected a lucrative project simply because it wasn’t put out to tender. Nor has any businessman turned his back on a golden offer merely because there was no competition. The gap that is plugged with bribes is the very gap through which companies slide into projects without due process—the gap left open by government.

There are lessons in this latest controversy. In reality, nothing happened beyond chatter and photo-ops—no agreement, not even a memorandum of understanding. The company cannot publish a single signed page from the meeting, because no such document exists. They expressed interest and left, like many others who have met the Minister of Minerals without needing to publicize it.

Incidentally, if even one percent of the countless agreements, MoUs—and casual “chats”—between our government agencies and foreign companies had ever been implemented, Sudan would rival the great powers today. But they never materialize, for epidemic reasons: corruption within state institutions, extortion and bribery, overlapping jurisdictions between local, state, and federal authorities, the ignorance of communities and their hired thugs, and a hostile media.

These are the epidemics of investment in our country. Investors arrive full of optimism—as with Mr. Garhi today—only to flee in fear and regret, like Rajhi, Al-Waleed bin Talal, Ahmed Bahgat, Naguib Sawiris, Al-Otaiba, and countless others. This space cannot hold the names of all who have been driven out by the state’s corruption, society’s foolishness, and the destructive role of the media.

And then came the plague of war, which has driven investors out of every sector, mining included. The bitter truth is that Sudan is now unattractive even to our own elites like Nimair and Ardol, let alone to Garhi, Rajhi, or other foreigners. Were I the Minister of Minerals, I would test investors’ seriousness by converting these Cairo “coffee chats” into contracts with penalty clauses. If that were done, they would flee the meeting halls in an instant.

If Deep Metals is serious about investing $277.3 million in Sudan, demand that they deposit a quarter of that amount today, not tomorrow—then let them invest as they wish, without conditions. But they won’t, because Garhi is not naïve enough to throw money into Sudan while Sudanese millionaires themselves send their investments to Cairo, Dubai, and Turkey.

Our land is crowded with arms dealers and aid agencies, not with gold, agriculture, or industry companies. The current noise is positive in a sense—it shows that Sudan’s resources still attract attention despite war, poverty, and displacement. But it is like a false pregnancy: there is no real substance behind the fuss.

Yes, Sudan’s resources capture investors’ eyes—but the behavior of our government, our society, and our media shocks and repels them. The Minister of Minerals erred by meeting Mr. Garhi alone, even if Nimair and Ardol were the intermediaries. He should have organized a forum for all potential investors in mining, Garhi included.

At such a forum, he could have presented opportunities and laws governing the mining sector, then returned home to wait for the war’s end—whether by military or political means. The end of war is the beginning of investment. That was the case after the Naivasha Agreement, when Khartoum’s hotels overflowed with foreign investors, until they too fled from the same epidemics.

To avoid repeating that exodus, the Council of Ministers must, once the rebellion is resolved—by war or by peace—create a genuine investment climate. That means reforming laws, mechanisms, and policies, and activating regulatory and accountability bodies. And by the way, where is the Anti-Corruption Commission this government promised us, just like its predecessors?

Forgive me, but that commission will remain like the Mahdist revolution: generations will read about it, one after another, yet never see it with their own eyes. So it’s no wonder that our national condition remains like that flustered schoolboy’s excuse: “It’s not dirty, sir—just a bit dirty.”