The Billionaire Uranium Dealer Who Nearly Bought Nairobi with Lies, Lipstick, and Libyan Connections Aluma’s story will be told for generations and referenced by top and aspiring con artists alike.
In the annals of Ugandan hustle history, one name glows brighter than a counterfeit dollar under UV light: Grace Aluma. Born in Gulu and forged in the fires of audacity, Aluma didn’t just con people—she colonized their wallets, their trust, and their real estate.
Her arrival in Kenya in 1982 was less of an immigration and more of a hostile takeover. Masquerading as a billionaire uranium dealer allegedly cutting deals for the U.S. government, she wielded fake documents with the confidence of a woman who’d just invented plutonium. Politicians, diplomats, and banks lined up like contestants on a reality show called “Who Wants to Be Swindled?”
Her victims were a United Nations of gullibility. Hon. Fred Omido, then Bahati MP, donated generously to the Church of Scams. Dr. Victor Johnson of UNEP Nairobi lost $80,000 and possibly his faith in humanity. Dr. Chief Olu Ibukun of UNESCO contributed Shs.300,000 to the Grace Aluma Retirement Fund. Mr. Seth, an electrical contractor, lost Shs.2,000,000—along with his wiring. Gyro Travel Agency, Kenya Commercial Bank, Swissair, and Westlands Motors all fell under her spell, left wondering if they’d been hit by a woman or a hurricane in lipstick.
But Aluma wasn’t content with local loot. She took her talents to Europe, where she convinced a Kenyan High Commission attaché in London to loan her $3,000. Another Kenyan lady working at the same commission gave her $800 after being promised a brand-new car and a cash windfall. The Zaire Embassy in London coughed up $6,000. Barclays Bank Liverpool parted with $12,000. Trade Development Bank London gave her $7,000. The Sierra Leone Consulate in Zurich handed over $3,000. She left behind unpaid hotel bills that could fund a small country’s tourism budget: $10,000 at Cumberland Hotel, $5,000 at Zurich’s Dolda and Penta Hotels, and Shs.41,000 in Kenyan real estate ghost rent.
Her pièce de résistance? She nearly acquired the International Life House Nairobi—a skyscraper so iconic it made diplomats weep. Her plan was to flip it to a foreign embassy like it was a plot of cassava. The deal was nearly sealed until her legal team got tangled in political arrests and she herself was jailed in Germany for fraud. The building sighed in relief. Some say Aluma was a secret agent. Others say she was just really good at Monopoly. Her ties to the Arab Bank in London—run by Libyan and Palestinian directors—added spice to the conspiracy stew. But one thing’s clear: Grace Aluma didn’t just con people. She conned continents.
Compared to Uganda’s other fraudsters—who mostly stuck to land titles, stolen cars, and SACCO scams—Aluma was playing 4D chess while they were still learning how to shuffle. She wasn’t just a con artist. She was a one-woman multinational deception corporation. If there were a Nobel Prize for fraud, she’d have won it, sold it, and convinced the committee to invest in her uranium startup.
