There are more questions than answers

Jun 16, 2025 Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom

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Kaieteur News – By now, anyone following the AZMO affair must be feeling like they’ve wandered into the script of a Guyanese version of The Twilight Zone, with guest appearances by a mysterious luxury car, a Vice President with a short fuse, and a press corps that occasionally folds like a plastic chair at a wedding reception.

Let us begin with that kerfuffle—oh, that glorious, agonising knot of a moment when a reporter, courage swelling in his chest like a balloon, dared to ask Vice President Bharrat Jagdeo about his relationship with the now-infamous Mohameds. Instead of a reply, what he got was a Socratic boomerang. “What relationship are you talking about? You tell me about the relationship you are talking about,” the Vice President snapped. And just like that, our brave journo was disarmed, dazed, and mentally dialling tech support for help with a ‘repartee not found’ error.

But it should not have ended there —not with a stammer, not with silence, and certainly not with the triumphant smirk of a Vice President who has, in that one exchange, managed to turn the public’s attention from what was being asked to why the reporter had the audacity to ask it in the first place.

Let us now pull the curtain back on what is truly intriguing—not the press conference fencing, but the actual substance of AZMO’s statement. For in the fever dream that is this Lamborghini-laced drama, AZMO (a man with more luxury taste than the average citizen’s lifetime earnings) claimed that he first contacted the Vice President.

Now pause there.

Just how does one get the Vice President’s number? Is it scribbled on the back of a DDL bottle in a Bourda rum shop? Is there a toll-free hotline? Or is it only distributed to the Well-Connected and Casually Entitled? Either way, AZMO said he contacted Jagdeo—by phone, one presumes, since he didn’t say he sent a message in a bottle—and was promptly told to meet the VP at the Convention Center. No questions asked. Like booking a hotel room. “Yes, one room for two and a private audience with power, please.”

Here’s where the questions start multiplying like potholes after rainfall.

Did the Vice President receive a call from AZMO? If so, why would AZMO have his number? If not, why would AZMO say he did? Was the meeting at the Convention Center a social tea, a spontaneous car appreciation soirée, or—heaven help us—an informal chat about the importation of a Lamborghini?

And if the Vice President did meet AZMO and told him to speak to the President, why? Was this some sort of bureaucratic relay race? “I’ll take the handoff and pass it to the Commander-in-Chief!” Since when does importing a car—albeit a luxury vehicle that could outpace the national budget in value—require a two-tier consultation at the very top of government?

We are told that this was just AZMO talking. But if he was telling tales, then let’s have clear denials. Not parries. Not rhetorical judo. Not “What relationship?” but rather, “No, I never met the man,” or “Yes, I did, and here’s what happened.” Instead, we are trapped in this Kafkaesque swirl of evasiveness and counter-questions.

To make matters more surreal, while the entire country is transfixed by what AZMO allegedly said about the President, there’s been suspiciously little political noise about what he said about the Vice President. Which begs the question: does the silence stem from confidence, or from knowing that the answers might lead us deeper down the rabbit hole?

Let’s not forget the context. This is no ordinary shipment of frozen chicken or used tires. This is a Lamborghini—a car that screams opulence, whispers exclusivity, and honks in Italian. Its very presence in a country where many still can’t afford a reconditioned vehicle is cause for scrutiny. The idea that its importation warranted consultations—allegedly—with both the Vice President and possibly the President, raises eyebrows so high they risk permanent detachment.

So again we ask: Did AZMO lie? Or is the truth just awkward?

If there was no meeting, say so. If there was a meeting, what was discussed? If AZMO was told to speak to the President, what was the rationale? Surely there are customs officials, legal importation processes, and enough public servants to handle this without triggering a mini-summit among the highest levels of government.

The people of Guyana do not need speculation. They need straight answers. Not in riddles. Not in reverse questioning. And certainly not after a reporter has been reduced to a wide-eyed onlooker in the middle of a press conference fencing match.

We’re not asking for much. Just a little less cloak, a little less dagger, and a lot more clarity. And maybe—just maybe—a new rule that if you want to import a Lamborghini, you speak to the Guyana Revenue Authority, not to anyone else.

(The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this newspaper.)

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• AZMO affair, Azruddin Mohamed, Peeping Tom, The Twilight Zone

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