In 2022, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, through its embassy in Abidjan, extended a generous hand to Liberia. A total of US$2.5 million was approved to assist the country, with $500,000 specifically designated for food aid and $2 million earmarked for the restoration of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs building. This was not some vague pledge or verbal commitment. Official diplomatic communications detailed the terms, requested banking information, and confirmed the Kingdom’s willingness to disburse the aid directly to the Government of Liberia. These were not mere intentions; they were formalized obligations backed by documentation, diplomatic courtesy, and international trust.
Fast-forward to April 2023, and the generosity of the Saudi government was made manifest. Through the King Salman Humanitarian Aid and Relief Center (KS-Relief), Saudi Arabia delivered 29,412 bags of rice, weighing more than 735,000 kilograms, specifically designated for 88,236 vulnerable Liberians. The delivery was not done in secret. It was handed over publicly by Deputy Ambassador Mohammed Al-Mubarak to then-Foreign Minister Dee-Maxwell Saah Kemayah. The purpose was clear: to alleviate food insecurity among some of the country’s most disadvantaged citizens.
But ask the average Liberian: Did you ever see or receive rice in the distinctive green Saudi-labeled bags? The answer in most communities is a resounding no. That rice vanished. So did the confidence in yet another high-profile promise of relief and support.
Now, in mid-2025, what began as a gift of generosity has become a legal and moral crisis. Former Foreign Minister Kemayah, former GSA Director Mary Broh, former NDMA Executive Director Henry O. Williams, and several other senior government officials have been indicted for their alleged roles in the illegal diversion of the Saudi-donated rice. The allegations are grave: theft of property, economic sabotage, criminal conspiracy, misapplication of entrusted property, and abuse of office. These are not isolated acts of negligence; they represent what investigators describe as a coordinated effort to exploit humanitarian aid meant for the poorest of Liberians.
According to the Asset Recovery and Property Retrieval Taskforce (AREPT), which led the investigation in partnership with the Ministry of Justice, over 25,000 bags of rice were diverted. Meetings were held in secret, warehouse records were altered or ignored, and large portions of the donation disappeared without a trace. Some of those indicted have already admitted to their involvement, confirming that this was no bureaucratic mishap but a calculated abuse of trust.
And what of the remaining US$2 million meant for restoring the Ministry of Foreign Affairs building? While the rice scandal dominates headlines, this second part of the Saudi donation has attracted far less scrutiny, but it should not escape public attention. Has the Ministry of Foreign Affairs provided any record, any procurement notice, any physical evidence of building restoration tied to the Saudi funds? Or, like the rice, has this money also vanished beneath layers of bureaucratic silence and political protection?
It is important to understand that this is not merely about rice or even the restoration of a building. It is about Liberia’s capacity to steward international aid transparently and responsibly. It is about the moral failure of a political class that continues to exploit suffering, even in times of humanitarian crisis. Saudi Arabia did not give $500,000 in food aid to be hijacked by corrupt officials. It did not approve $2 million for the Foreign Ministry’s facelift only for that money to become another mystery in a long list of unaccounted public funds.
This scandal has real consequences. When nations like Saudi Arabia offer help, they do so based on trust, trust that the aid will reach its intended beneficiaries, trust that the receiving government will uphold its end of the agreement. The abuse of this trust does not just harm the people who were denied food assistance. It undermines Liberia’s credibility on the global stage. It weakens future opportunities for international cooperation. It tells the world that Liberia is not ready to manage assistance with accountability.
The travel ban (ne exeat republica) placed on the accused is a necessary first step. But the Liberian people deserve more than legal theatrics. They deserve answers. They deserve to know where the rice went, who took it, and who benefited. They deserve a full forensic audit of the $2 million earmarked for the Ministry’s building. They deserve prosecutions that lead to convictions and full recovery of stolen assets, not another drawn-out legal drama that ends in quiet settlements and forgotten files.
As more indictments are expected in July, this case must become a test of the government’s resolve to fight corruption, not just in word but in deed. AREPT and the Ministry of Justice must act independently, swiftly, and without fear or favor. There should be no sacred cows, no backdoor compromises, and no political interference. If Liberia is to restore trust, both from its citizens and from international partners, it must begin by proving that no official, no matter how powerful, is above the law.
The people of Liberia were robbed of more than rice. They were robbed of dignity, of trust, and of hope. Let this not be another case of impunity wrapped in bureaucracy. Let it be a turning point. Let every dollar and every bag of rice be accounted for.
