By EditorZambia
There was a time when the mere mention of the Drug Enforcement Commission (DEC) sent tremors through the underworld.
Under the late Mukutulu Sinyani, the DEC built a reputation for being sharp, fearless, and uncompromising. Foreign syndicates treated Zambia with caution. Today, one is left asking: what changed? 
This latest case is not merely about a Senegalese national allegedly swindling a South African of US$105,000 in Lusaka. It is about systems. It is about enforcement. It is about whether the institutions tasked with protecting the integrity of this country are still fit for purpose.
According to the Zambia Police Service, a 56-year-old Senegalese national was arrested for obtaining money by false pretences after allegedly selling two kilogrammes of fake gold to a South African businessman. The complainant reportedly travelled to Zambia specifically for gold trading and was introduced to the suspect, who claimed to have access to genuine sellers. The transaction took place at a named lodge in Kabulonga. The mineral was later tested and found to be worthless.
But this incident raises uncomfortable questions.
First, did the South African declare the US dollars he entered the country with, as required by law? If one is carrying over US$100,000 in cash across borders, compliance is not optional. Was there a declaration at Kenneth Kaunda International Airport? Was this money lawfully sourced?
Second, how does a seasoned trader hand over US$105,000 without conducting an immediate authenticity test? Gold testing kits are neither rare nor expensive. Some lodges and trading facilities even have access to testing equipment. Why was the verification done after payment rather than before?
In the world of precious minerals, that is not naïveté; it is recklessness.
Third, and most importantly, how have we allowed Zambia to become fertile ground for such schemes? Gold scams involving foreign nationals are not new. They follow a pattern: introduction by a “connector”, a hurried transaction, unregistered vehicles, and then disappearance. This is organised. It is calculated. It thrives where enforcement is weak.
Where is the intelligence gathering? Where is the proactive monitoring of suspicious gold dealings? Where is the DEC in all this?
The DEC was established to tackle financial crimes, illicit trafficking and organised syndicates. Yet increasingly, it appears reactive rather than preventative. Arrests after the fact are not strategy; they are damage control. If syndicates feel comfortable operating openly in high-end areas of Lusaka, that signals confidence, not fear.
During the tenure of Mukutulu Sinyani, foreign criminals understood that Zambia was not a playground. Operations were intelligence-led. Surveillance was deliberate. The message was clear: you exploit this country at your peril.
Now, one hears growing public frustration that instead of dismantling networks, enforcement agencies are distracted, compromised, or selectively active. Whether fair or not, perception matters. The perception is that deterrence has weakened.
This case is bigger than US$105,000. It touches on Zambia’s reputation as a serious jurisdiction. If foreigners can enter, move large sums of undeclared cash, conduct dubious mineral transactions and only face consequences after someone has been fleeced, then the system is not robust enough.
Zambia must decide what it wants to be: a respected investment destination governed by the rule of law or a convenient stop for transnational hustlers.
Arresting one suspect is not enough. The networks must be exposed. The financial trails must be scrutinised. Border declarations must be verified. Enforcement bodies must rediscover the steel that once defined them.
Right now, the question echoing across Lusaka is simple: Are we still feared by criminals or merely reacting after the damage is done?
