Monrovia – The much-maligned “Yellow Machines” deal—once dismissed as a scandalous venture marred by secrecy, procedural errors, and accusations of executive overreach—is back on the national stage. This time, however, it returns with a rebranding of sorts: renegotiated terms, apparent cost reductions, and the Vice President himself at the helm of the revamped initiative.
Yet, despite fresh assurances from Information Minister Jerelinmek Piah and expressions of cautious optimism from Gbarpolu County Senator Amara Konneh, the questions persist—and the controversy is far from settled. If anything, the revived deal raises even deeper concerns about transparency, legality, and the continued politicization of infrastructure development in Liberia.
As we unpack the emerging details of this new agreement, the challenge remains the same: How do we reconcile the promises of transformative national development with the obligations of public accountability and the rule of law?
A Deal Revisited, Not Resolved
According to Information Minister Jerelinmek Piah, the Boakai administration has taken to heart the public outcry that followed the earlier iteration of the Yellow Machines deal. In this new version, Vice President Jeremiah Koung was tapped to lead renegotiation efforts. His reported success is being framed as a victory for prudent governance—a deal slashed from its original US$79 million to an alleged US$22 million, now stretched over a three-year payment plan.
The Vice President’s involvement, though, is raising its own questions. In a country where procurement laws require the active participation of technical institutions such as the Ministry of Finance, the Ministry of Justice, and most critically, the Public Procurement and Concessions Commission (PPCC), handing over a multibillion-dollar project’s renegotiation to a political office—without confirmed oversight by these institutions—has prompted observers to call for greater transparency. While Minister Piah insists the deal is being finalized with due consideration to the law, he declined to reveal the total cost or the full terms of renegotiation, deferring instead to Vice President Koung.
That said, the lack of information does not in itself indict the new deal. It merely shows the importance of full disclosure and public engagement moving forward. Until the final figures and contract details are made available, judgment should remain reserved.
From Secret Containers to Senate Floors
This is not the first time these 285 earth-moving machines have stirred controversy. When they first landed in Liberia during the President Boakai’s early months in office, their arrival raised more than eyebrows—it lit up political tempers. The public learned through a cabinet retreat, rather than formal government procedure, that the equipment was already en route.
The revelation that a South African billionaire, Robert Gumede, had been informally contracted—or perhaps merely “consulted”—to supply the equipment ignited suspicion. It had not passed through the Legislature for approval. No procurement documents were published. And it seemed even the Ministers of Finance and Justice had been sidelined.
A display of the machines, driven through Monrovia’s streets and later parked at BTC Barracks, further politicized the process. At the time, critics saw this not as national development, but as executive grandstanding and a bypass of democratic checks and balances.
The administration’s line then was that no formal financial commitment had been made. It was a “gentleman’s agreement” with a long-time friend of the President, who would retrieve or resell the machines if no deal was reached. But Liberians, having witnessed decades of misgovernance veiled in such euphemisms, were not reassured.
From Critic to Collaborator? The Amara Konneh Conundrum
Gbarpolu Senator Amara Konneh, once one of the loudest critics of the deal, now appears to be extending cautious support. In a Facebook post over the weekend, Konneh lauded the Boakai administration for reportedly cutting the deal’s cost by over 70 percent and described the new arrangement as a potential win for Liberia—“if” the legal frameworks are respected.
“We hope [President Boakai] addresses procurement and public financial management (PFM) issues, as our country deserves quality roads free from corruption and politicization,” Konneh wrote, while insisting that “there should be consequences for those who inflated the original costs and bypassed our PPCC and PFM Laws.”
To some, Konneh’s tempered endorsement signals political maturity—a willingness to recognize progress where it occurs. To others, it’s a troubling about-face, revealing how even principled voices can be softened when partisan interests align or political pressure mounts.
Former government official Patrick M’bayo was swift and unsparing in his criticism of Konneh’s new stance. In a scathing statement on Facebook, M’bayo denounced the revived deal as an “under-the-table” agreement, condemned the Vice President’s lead role as a betrayal of procurement standards, and accused the Boakai administration of normalizing institutional abuse.
“This deal reeks of malfeasance and corruption,” M’bayo wrote, “and the Senate, instead of being a check, is now a cheerleader.”
Unanswered Questions: Procurement, Pricing, and Public Interest
The Boakai administration may believe that slashing the cost makes the deal more palatable, but the real question is not just “how much,” but “how.” At no point has the government published the original procurement documents, nor clarified whether a competitive bidding process was undertaken. There has been no official explanation from the PPCC—Liberia’s procurement watchdog.
Moreover, the origin of the cost reduction remains a mystery. Was the initial $79 million cost grossly inflated? Was it padded with kickbacks, or misrepresented to the public? Or is the new $22 million figure the result of reduced equipment quantity or lower quality machines? Without documentation, these are educated guesses at best.
The reported payment plan, while more feasible on paper, also demands scrutiny. The first tranche has reportedly been included in the current national budget, but what line item captures it? Was this inclusion debated by the Legislature or silently passed? How will the government manage delivery and maintenance costs while ensuring that local operators and engineers are trained and employed?
Minister Mamaka Bility previously touted a two-year maintenance and training contract included in the original plan. Is that provision still intact? Who will implement it? Again, the details are conspicuously absent.
Political Tensions Behind the Machines
Lawmakers like Representative Musa Bility raised constitutional alarms when the first batch arrived, demanding that the Executive respect legislative oversight. Representative Prescilla Abram Cooper, a ruling party member, lamented the lack of consultation. Even President Boakai himself, in a letter to the Legislature, admitted that “errors” occurred—but insisted that good intentions and patriotic friendships were the driving force behind the deal.
This, critics argue, is precisely the problem: governance by goodwill, rather than by law.
John Morlu, former Auditor General and now a vocal critic of the Boakai administration, put it bluntly: “Government cannot be done on friendship… This is simple Accounting 101.”
Morlu’s critique points to a deeper issue—the blurring of personal relationships and state affairs, which has historically opened the door to graft in Liberia.
Slashed Prices, Same Problems?
The return of the Yellow Machines debate may offer the Boakai administration a second chance to get it right. But until the full contract is made public, the procurement trail clarified, and accountability enforced for the prior lapses, the government’s credibility remains precarious.
Liberia needs roads. It needs development. But it also needs laws, institutions, and leadership that resist the temptation to fast-track progress at the cost of legality and public trust.
President Boakai must seize this opportunity not only to deliver equipment, but to restore the primacy of process. Otherwise, the Yellow Machines—however bright their paint—will remain symbols of the old Liberia: opaque, transactional, and stuck in the mud of its own making.
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