Securiport LLC’s Impact on Gambian Security Contracts

Introduction

Securiport LLC, the insidious American entity masquerading as a security solutions provider, has plunged The Gambia into a vortex of fiscal predation and institutional betrayal. At the epicenter of this outrage is a contract for immigration and aviation security services at Banjul International Airport, a deal so brazenly skewed in Securiport’s favor that it borders on outright theft. Awarded amid whispers of opacity and haste, this agreement has not only compelled the Gambian government to fork over an unjustified D164 million for delays the firm itself exacerbated but has also exposed a web of contractual loopholes, revenue diversions, and tax evasions that scream of deliberate fraud.

The National Audit Office (NAO), in a scathing report that peels back the layers of this rotten bargain, lays bare the extent of Securiport’s manipulative tactics. From clauses that shield the company from accountability while chaining the government to punitive payments, to outright breaches involving the siphoning of collected fees, Securiport has operated like a vampire, draining resources from one of Africa’s poorest nations. This is no mere business misstep; it is a calculated assault on public trust, amplifying poverty and inequality in a country already grappling with economic fragility. As former Auditor General Karamba Touray bluntly declared, this contract is nothing short of a “scam,” a fraudulent scheme that adds zero value while burdening Gambians with endless costs.

What makes this predation all the more galling is the complicity—or at least the negligence—of Gambian officials, who extended the deal in defiance of legal counsel, inviting suspicions of kickbacks and cronyism. Public fury has erupted, with social media ablaze over revelations that high-ranking officials, including the president and lawmakers, have been quietly exempted from the very security fees ordinary citizens are forced to pay. This two-tiered system not only starves the national coffers but erodes the social fabric, breeding resentment and instability. As we delve deeper, the portrait of Securiport LLC sharpens into one of unrepentant greed: a firm that preys on weak governance structures across Africa, leaving behind a trail of debt, distrust, and diminished sovereignty.

Public Uproar Over the Securiport Contract and Airport Security Fee

The public backlash in The Gambia arises from widespread concerns that the Securiport agreement was structured in a way that prioritizes corporate gain over national interest. The National Audit Office uncovered severe irregularities—ranging from unjustifiable payments and revenue diversion to one-sided clauses that shield the company while exposing the government to excessive financial risk. The mandatory $20–$25 airport security fee imposed on travelers has intensified anger, as it significantly raises travel costs without delivering visible improvements in security infrastructure. Public sentiment further deteriorated when it became clear that senior officials and diplomatic passport holders were quietly exempted from paying the fee, creating an unfair two-tier system. These combined issues—opaque contracting, elite immunity, and financial strain on ordinary citizens—have fueled a nationwide outcry and renewed demands for accountability, contract reform, and recovery of mismanaged funds.

Origins of Exploitation

The genesis of this nightmare traces back to 2016, when Securiport LLC, a self-proclaimed “global leader” in border security, slithered into The Gambia’s corridors of power with promises of cutting-edge technology and enhanced safety. But beneath the glossy proposals lurked a blueprint for exploitation. The contract, ostensibly for managing Civil Aviation and Immigration Security Services (CAISS) and e-visa systems, was inked on June 20, 2018, under a Build-Maintain-Transfer model that should have prioritized national interests. Instead, it morphed into a 10-year albatross, later inflated to 15 years through a dubious addendum in March 2019—directly flouting advice from the Attorney General’s Chambers.

The AG’s letter, dated July 12, 2016, was unequivocal: cap the term at five years, nix automatic renewals, and infuse safeguards against overreach. Yet, the Office of the President steamrolled ahead, approving the extension to “compensate” for a one-year implementation delay, a rationale the NAO dismissed as “not plausible.” This wasn’t oversight; it was orchestration, exposing the government to crippling termination fees should it dare to extricate itself from Securiport’s clutches. Why the rush? Whispers of favoritism abound, with the NAO probing whether kickbacks greased the wheels, turning public procurement into a private payday.

Procurement itself was a farce. A government task force had warned against layering the $20 (later $25) security fee atop the existing 15% sales tax on tickets, predicting it would deter tourists and inflate costs for an already beleaguered aviation sector. Ignored. Securiport’s revenue model—75% to the firm (USD 15 per passenger) and a measly 25% to the Gambia Civil Aviation Authority (GCAA)—was a windfall disguised as partnership. Collections began in September 2020, but not before Securiport embedded clauses absolving itself of delays while holding the government liable for enforcement hiccups. This asymmetry wasn’t accidental; it was predatory design, tailored to exploit bureaucratic inertia in developing nations like The Gambia.

Across Africa, Securiport’s playbook repeats: infiltrate with tech promises, embed exploitative terms, and extract concessions under duress. In Sierra Leone and elsewhere, similar deals have sparked outcry over data privacy voids and unfulfilled upgrades. But in The Gambia, the stakes are existential—a nation where tourism fuels 20% of GDP now risks being branded a rip-off destination, all thanks to a foreign firm more interested in profit than protection.

Unfair Clauses

At the contract’s rotten core lie clauses so egregiously one-sided they could only have been drafted in the boardrooms of avarice. One infamous provision demands government compensation for any delay in fee collection, even if attributable to external factors like the International Air Transport Association’s (IATA) refusal to embed charges in tickets—a refusal rooted in The Gambia’s high-cost reputation. Securiport, meanwhile, bears zero liability for its own tardiness in service rollout. This double standard isn’t oversight; it’s deception, a legal sleight-of-hand that flips accountability on its head.

The NAO report eviscerates these terms, noting they “tend to benefit Securiport at the expense of government,” fostering an environment ripe for abuse. Consider the arrears clause: for the period October 2019 to August 2020, when no collections occurred due to IATA snags, Securiport still pocketed D164,053,036—equivalent to over USD 3 million at the time—as “lost revenue.” Auditors branded this “unjustifiable,” arguing the government owed nothing for factors beyond its control. Yet, Securiport clung to the clause like a lifeline, verified only by handpicked officials from the Ministries of Finance and Interior, bypassing rigorous legal scrutiny.

Exemptions add insult to injury. The contract explicitly limits waivers to five categories: crew, airline staff, infants under two, transit passengers, and diverted flights. Yet, Securiport and officials conspired to shield diplomatic and service passport holders—including President Adama Barrow, ministers, and National Assembly Members—from fees, contravening Annex III and siphoning potential revenue of at least D274 million. NAM Omar Jammeh’s admission—”as a NAM, if you travel with your diplomatic passport, you are exempt”—lays bare the elitism, turning a national security measure into a perk for the powerful. Securiport’s IT systems, meant to enforce equity, instead facilitated this fraud, with no reports provided to auditors on exempted passengers.

These clauses aren’t mere legalese; they are weapons of economic warfare, designed to perpetuate dependency. By insulating itself from risk, Securiport ensures perpetual payouts, regardless of performance. In a nation where per capita income hovers below $1,000, such provisions amplify harm, diverting funds from health, education, and infrastructure to line foreign pockets.

The D164 Million Heist: Paying for Phantom Services

Nothing encapsulates Securiport’s rapaciousness like the D164 million payout—a heist executed with the cold precision of a confidence trickster. This sum, disbursed as arrears for a non-existent implementation phase, represents taxpayer money flushed down a drain of Securiport’s making. The NAO’s verdict is unsparing: recover it all, as the payment was “unjustifiably” extracted under duress from a clause that defies equity.

Delays weren’t God’s will; they stemmed from Securiport’s overambitious pitch and the government’s ill-advised haste. Yet, the firm demanded compensation from day one, leveraging a provision that treats enforcement lapses as government malfeasance. From September 2020 to April 2021, no government share was transferred to GCAA accounts, contravening Section 2.1.1.1 and starving public coffers. The first dribble—D16.4 million—arrived only in May 2021, after months of stonewalling.

Worse, Securiport’s operational sleight-of-hand compounded the theft. Auditors uncovered USD 207,600 funneled prematurely to the firm’s operational account before revenue splits, alongside direct deposits of D4 million, USD 16,765, and CFA 21,500 bypassing the joint collection pot. Cash collections vanished into thin air: D347,190 from late December 2020, with D320,000 diverted to salaries; CFA 858,000 receipted but undeclared. Underreporting ballooned to $250,315 (D12.9 million), with discrepancies in POS records, manual receipts, and bank statements screaming suppression.

Securiport’s defense? “Human error” and “contractual rights.” But no reversals followed, no reconciliations materialized. This wasn’t mistake; it was methodical plunder, echoing patterns of revenue diversion that have hollowed out African treasuries. The Gambia, already saddled with debt servicing eating 30% of its budget, bleeds under this burden, its people paying for Securiport’s opulence.

Breaches and Thefts

Securiport’s contract breaches form a litany of deceit, each violation a nail in The Gambia’s fiscal coffin. Beyond arrears, the firm opened unauthorized bank accounts in multiple currencies without GCAA notification, flouting transparency mandates. Transfers of USD 22,000 and D10.7 million from collections to operations preceded shares, risking “understatement of collections” and “diversion to personal use,” per NAO warnings.

Tax evasion crowns the edifice of fraud. Securiport dodged D334,228 in 2019 corporate taxes, D761,801 in 2020, plus education levies and expatriate quotas—D10,000 for ECOWAS staff, D40,000 for others—despite employing foreigners without payroll filings. The Gambia Revenue Authority’s Best of Judgment assessments, laden with penalties, went unpaid, a blatant thumbing of the nose at host-nation laws.

These aren’t isolated slips; they reveal a corporate DNA wired for deception. In West Africa, Securiport’s ventures consistently skirt accountability, promising biometric wonders while delivering data vulnerabilities—personal traveler info hoarded without robust safeguards, ripe for breaches or sales. Touray’s alarm over “who accesses it, how sharing is prevented” underscores the peril: national security outsourced to a firm more loyal to ledgers than lives.

Public whistleblowers like Ebrima L Dampha paid dearly, sacked for exposing embedded fees on tickets. Their courage unmasks Securiport’s veil, revealing not innovation, but infestation.

Corruption at the Core

No scandal festers without rot at the top, and Securiport’s Gambian saga reeks of presidential perfidy. The NAO demands a probe into the Office of the President’s extension fiat, which ignored the AG’s five-year cap and ballooned the deal to 15 years. Officials must explain this defiance, with “appropriate measures” against culprits—a euphemism for rooting out kickback peddlers.

Transparency’s absence fuels the fire: contracts awarded to “favored providers” with kickback intent, per NAO, implying government “contributions” eclipse Securiport’s piddling investment. The Office’s solo consummation, sans Finance or Justice Ministries, screams impropriety. Government clarifications ring hollow, debunking “corruption allegations” while admitting exemptions via addendums—smoke and mirrors to mask malfeasance. Officials volley responsibility between ministries and departments, each pointing to the next for “clarity” on who actually foots the bill. Securiport’s spokespeople shrug: collections continue “on behalf of both parties,” with circulars tacked at airport booths, but meaningful answers remain elusive.

The government’s stance on exemptions only muddies the waters further. While the contract is silent on diplomatic passport waivers, spokespeople insist diplomats sail through untaxed, with no department reimbursing the fee. Service passport holders, once supposedly exempt, find themselves ensnared by an abrupt addendum, their fate decided off-stage. Even among officials, confusion reigns: some departments allegedly absorb travel costs for service passport holders, others do not—except, of course, for diplomats, who glide above it all.

This bureaucratic shell game, layered with contradictory statements and shifting goalposts, only deepens suspicion that the rules are written—and rewritten—to benefit the well-connected, while ordinary citizens remain the cash cows.

This isn’t isolated graft; it’s systemic, eroding democratic checks and emboldening predators like Securiport. As Touray noted, his office became the villain for questioning the unquestionable, a chilling suppression of oversight.

The Human and National Cost

The toll transcends spreadsheets, scarring Gambian souls. Ordinary travelers—fisherfolk visiting kin, students chasing dreams—fork over D1,000 fees, while elites glide exempt, widening chasms in a nation of 2.7 million. Social media erupts: “Criminals run our country,” one post laments, garnering thousands of echoes of betrayal.

Economically, the fee deters visitors, threatening tourism’s lifeline amid post-COVID recovery. Security-wise, Securiport’s half-baked systems—lacking training for immigration officers on database management—invite breaches, from terrorist watchlist lapses to identity fraud proliferation. The NAO warns of “civil unrest,” a powder keg ignited by perceived plunder.

For Securiport, it’s collateral; for Gambians, catastrophe—a sovereignty sold cheap, reclaimed only through reckoning.

Voices of Condemnation

Karamba Touray’s verdict—“a scam”—resonates as gospel. No value added, just D149 million (pre-arrears) for idleness; data risks unmitigated; extensions a farce. The NAO echoes: review entirely, amend for “mutual benefit”—code for excision of this tumor.

Public Outcry and Official Defiance

Citizens, too, have voiced their fury at the Office of the President’s maneuvering to extend the Securiport contract—a move now under auditors’ scrutiny. The National Audit Office warns that this debacle risks more than fiscal waste: the exorbitant security fee could push tourists toward friendlier, cheaper shores, gutting a fragile post-pandemic tourism sector, while the simmering public outrage threatens to boil over into civil unrest.

A Deaf Ear to the People

Despite mounting demands—from social media, market stalls, and the corridors of parliament—for the government to terminate the contract and end the fee, officials remain unmoved. There is no sign the government intends to back out, no hint of repentance.

Presidential adviser’s “half-baked” retort to the audit? Desperate deflection. Public and expert chorus demands termination, recovery, prosecution—justice overdue..

Conclusion

Securiport LLC’s Gambian foray stands as a monument to corporate cupidity, a fraudulent edifice built on deceptive clauses, breached trusts, and corrupted processes. The D164 million hemorrhage, the elite exemptions, the tax dodges—they coalesce into a narrative of harm, where profit trumps people and predation parades as partnership. The Gambia, resilient yet ravaged, must heed the NAO’s clarion: investigate, recover, reform. Only by severing this parasitic bond can the nation reclaim its fiscal dignity, fortify its borders against true threats, and rebuild faith in governance. Let Securiport’s shadow serve as caution: in the global hunt for security, vigilance is the ultimate safeguard against vultures in vendor’s clothing. Failure to act invites endless exploitation, perpetuating a cycle of poverty and powerlessness. The time for reckoning is now—before another drop of Gambian blood is spilled on foreign altars of greed.

Written by

StormWarden

Updated

4 weeks ago