Disgraced Oil Trader Idris Taha Sneaks Into Juba as Empire Crumbles

JUBA – In a remarkable display of desperation, Idris Taha, the controversial oil trader at the center of allegations involving the systematic looting of South Sudan’s petroleum wealth, has quietly slipped into Juba in recent days, marking his first known personal visit to the capital in years as his once-formidable commercial empire teeters on the brink of collapse.

The arrival of the Managing Director of Euroamerica Energy represents a stunning reversal for a man who for years operated from the safety of offices in Turkey and London, content to send his son Mahmoud as his proxy while pulling strings from thousands of miles away. That Taha felt compelled to make the journey himself speaks volumes about how dramatically his fortunes have shifted in the space of just weeks.

Sources close to the matter say Taha’s mission was straightforward but ultimately futile. He came to Juba hoping to rebuild the intricate network of political connections that had allowed his firm to capture more than 80 percent of South Sudan’s crude oil exports in recent months. What he found instead were locked doors and turned backs as the new leadership made clear through their refusal to engage that the days of opaque oil deals are over.

The collapse of Taha’s operation began last month when President Salva Kiir dismissed three key figures who had allegedly facilitated Euroamerica Energy’s stranglehold on the country’s economic lifeline. Former Vice President Benjamin Bol Mel, former Nilepet Managing Director and former Undersecretary Engineer Deng Lual Wol were all removed from their positions in a move that investigators say effectively decapitated the network that had enabled what one source described as infrastructure-level theft.

Without his carefully cultivated political protectors, Taha arrived in Juba to find himself treated as radioactive. The newly appointed Vice President declined to meet him. The Minister of Finance refused an audience. Officials at the Ministry of Petroleum, once so accommodating to his requests, kept their distance. For a man whose business model depends entirely on political access and official blessing, the cold shoulder represents nothing less than commercial death.

The scale of what Taha allegedly helped orchestrate is staggering. Documents and industry sources indicate that Euroamerica Energy, working in partnership with Hong Kong-based Cathay Petroleum, controlled the vast majority of crude cargoes exported from South Sudan through a system designed for maximum opacity. No prepayments reached the Ministry of Finance. No proper records landed at the Central Bank. The lack of transparency was so complete that it directly contributed to the recent arrest of the Central Bank Governor, sources confirmed.

Taha’s career reads like a handbook for operating in the world’s most corrupt and sanctioned oil markets. He cut his teeth in Libya during the embargo years of the 1990s, working through systems that were systematically corrupted by parallel networks. After the fall of Muammar Gaddafi in 2011, he shifted operations to Iran, managing large contracts with the United Arab Emirates until those relationships collapsed amid accusations of deception. Declared persona non grata in the Emirates, he moved his base of operations to Turkey and the United Kingdom.

Along the way, he represented some of the biggest and most controversial names in commodity trading. He worked for Trafigura before that company fled South Sudan following a bribery scandal. He joined Litasco, the trading arm of Russian oil giant Lukoil, which withdrew from South Sudan leaving behind an unpaid debt of 90 million dollars. Each time a company he worked for exited under a cloud, Taha simply shifted to a new vehicle and continued operating.

The alleged theft operated on multiple levels. On the surface, there were questions about whether South Sudan received fair prices for crude sold through Euroamerica and Cathay channels. But investigators say the more insidious looting occurred through what is known as the cost oil mechanism, a system designed to allow oil companies to recoup exploration and production expenses before the government receives its share.

In theory, cost oil is standard industry practice. In South Sudan, sources allege, it became a vehicle for organized overbilling on a breathtaking scale. Oil service companies allegedly linked to the network charged up to three times standard rates for drilling and services, knowing the cost oil system would reimburse every inflated dollar before a single cent reached public coffers. A well that should cost 20 million dollars was allegedly billed at 100 million, with the state absorbing the entire loss.

Facilitating these flows was Cornelis Nicolaas Abraham Loos, a Dutch national who sources say has been in South Sudan for more than seven years serving as a close associate of the dismissed former Vice President. Loos allegedly managed money laundering operations through Dubai and handled UAE real estate assets on behalf of senior officials. Sources describe him as the man who made the mechanics of corruption work smoothly across jurisdictions and banking systems.

What made the network particularly effective was its institutional depth. The traders working through Cathay Petroleum learned their craft at Arcadia Petroleum and Glencore, companies known for aggressive trading in frontier markets. When Arcadia collapsed in 2018 amid allegations of massive fraud involving 349 million dollars, and when Glencore exited South Sudan under the weight of scandal after publicly admitting it paid bribes in the country, the traders simply migrated to new employers and continued the same practices.

For South Sudan, one of the world’s youngest and poorest nations, the implications have been catastrophic. Oil revenues that should fund hospitals, schools and basic infrastructure instead allegedly disappeared into offshore accounts. The Ministry of Finance and Central Bank were effectively cut out of the export process, unable to track revenues or verify that the country received fair value for its resources.

The dismissal of Benjamin Bol Mel and the other key figures last month signaled that at least some elements within the South Sudanese government recognized the severity of the crisis. The refusal of the new leadership to meet with Taha during his recent visit suggests they understand that rebuilding trust in the oil sector requires not just removing compromised officials but also closing the door to the traders who allegedly worked with them.

For Taha, the rejection marks a dramatic fall. Just weeks ago, his firm controlled the vast majority of the country’s crude exports. Now he wanders the corridors of power in Juba, unable to secure a single meaningful meeting. His political protectors are gone. His commercial arrangements are in jeopardy. His business model, built entirely on cultivated relationships with officials willing to bend rules and ignore oversight, has hit a wall.

Industry observers say Taha’s desperation visit underscores a broader truth about corruption in resource-rich developing nations. Systems of theft can appear impregnable when they have political protection, but they are remarkably fragile once that protection is withdrawn. Without officials willing to provide cover, even the most sophisticated networks can unravel with shocking speed.

The question now is whether South Sudan’s new leadership can maintain its resolve. Taha and the traders he works with have spent decades perfecting their craft in sanctioned and conflict-affected markets. They know how to wait out political transitions. They know how to identify new officials who might be susceptible to inducements. They know that even when caught, as Glencore was when it admitted to bribery, the consequences are often manageable and the networks can survive to operate under new names.

But by treating Taha as toxic and refusing to engage with him, Juba’s new leadership is sending an unmistakable signal. The systematic looting that allegedly characterized recent years will not be tolerated going forward. Political access cannot be purchased. The country’s oil wealth will no longer be treated as a private resource to be diverted through opaque channels.

Whether this resolve holds in the face of pressure and inducements remains to be seen. For now, Idris Taha’s lonely and fruitless visit to Juba stands as a symbol of a system in collapse. The man who once controlled South Sudan’s economic lifeline from comfortable offices abroad now prowls the capital in person, searching for sympathetic ears and finding none. His empire is crumbling, and for a country bled dry by years of corruption, that represents the first faint hope that things might finally change.