From Congo to Dubai: Inside Paul Kobia's gold deals, myth and dangerous flashy life

In Kenya’s high-stakes gold and shadowy boardroom deals, few names carry as much controversy as Paul Kobia, aka Prezda.

To some, he is a self-made tycoon who cracked one of Africa’s most secretive trades. To others, he is a brash showman whose stories blur the line between fact and folklore.

But to anyone who has followed his journey, one thing is clear: Kobia lives loudly, dangerously and unapologetically.

After years out of the public eye, the man who calls himself the “King of Gold” is back. And, as expected, he has resurfaced with larger-than-life claims.

For a while, Kobia had gone quiet — a rare thing for a man known for flashy displays and dramatic public outbursts. But behind the scenes, he says, he was far from idle.

“I’ve been missing in action for a couple of years,” he says, almost casually. “But I’ve been setting up a new office in Manila, in the Philippines.”

His operations, he adds, now stretch across continents — from Africa to the Middle East and Asia. Dubai remains his primary market, though he hints at “tension” there, without elaborating.

Back home, however, he insists everything is “cool.” And in true Kobia fashion, his comeback has to be felt and seen.  A new fleet of machines occupies his garage: a G-Wagon G63, a rare E300 AMG convertible he claims is the only one in the country, and a Maserati.

 A life forged in Congo’s gold fields

Kobia’s story is deeply intertwined with the mineral-rich but volatile eastern region of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC).

It is here, he says, that he learned the ropes of the gold trade — not in classrooms, but in conflict zones.

“I was trained in Butembo, a city in North Kivu, in the north eastern Democratic Republic of Congo,” he recalls. “From there, I continued learning. Now I’m like a PhD holder in geological reports and matters gold.”

His connection to DRC runs deep. He speaks the language, moves with ease across cities like Goma, Bukavu and Kinshasa, and even describes himself as “Kenyan-Congolese”.

He claims his rise coincided with the era of Mobutu Sese Seko and later Laurent-Désiré Kabila — powerful figures whose reigns were marked by both wealth and political upheaval.

In one of his most dramatic claims, Kobia recounts a high-stakes standoff involving a gold consignment and a sitting president.

“It wasn’t two tonnes — it was 400 kilos, and it was mine,” he says. “He (president) wanted 50 per cent.”

What followed, according to Kobia, sounds like a scene straight out of a thriller: private jets, a dash through JKIA, and a narrow escape to Dubai before political pressure could catch up with him.

If there is one thread that defines Kobia’s life, it is his gold business deals that have sometimes landed him in trouble countless times.

“When you’re dealing with gold and diamonds, you have to be dangerous,” he says bluntly. “You can’t be soft.”

It is a philosophy shaped by years in an industry notorious for fraud, conflict and extreme risk. According to him, up to 90 per cent of gold deals in circulation are fake.

“Anyone can walk anywhere and buy anything,” he says. “But gold is different.”

He explains that real wealth, especially among the global elite, is often stored in gold bullion — a quiet but powerful hedge against economic uncertainty.

 Kenya’s untapped trillions

While Kobia’s exploits span continents, he believes Kenya is sitting on a goldmine — literally.

He points to deposits in western Kenya, estimating their value in the trillions of shillings. Yet, he argues, Kenya has failed to fully exploit its mineral wealth.

From gold and graphite to titanium, cobalt and rare earth elements, Kobia believes Kenya could transform its economy if it got the mining sector right.

He is preparing a report for the government, offering what he describes as free expertise on how to unlock the industry’s potential.

His vision is bold — even radical.

“We can use our minerals as collateral to get infrastructure loans,” he says. “We can move away from institutions like the World Bank and IMF.”

He also points to regional competition, noting that neighbouring countries are already moving fast to refine and export minerals.

Kobia’s life is not just about boardroom deals and billion-shilling transactions. It is also marked by moments of raw, personal danger. At one point, he says, he shot a man during an attempted robbery.

“I fired in the air, but they kept running,” he recounts. “So I shot one in the head and the other in the leg.”

The matter-of-fact tone with which he narrates the incident is chilling — a reminder of the world he operates in, where survival can be as important as strategy.

He describes travelling to Congo as a near-military operation, sometimes requiring dozens of bodyguards.

“It’s dangerous,” he admits. “That’s why I rely on teams on the ground. I travel with more than 30 bodyguards drawn from the Congolese army.”

The shadow economy

Beyond gold, Kobia touches on another sensitive topic — the movement of money across borders.

He claims that countries affected by conflict, such as Somalia, Sudan and DRC, often channel funds into Kenya before transferring them to global financial hubs like Dubai.

His remarks echo long-standing concerns about Nairobi’s role in regional financial flows — both legitimate and illicit.

“When you restrict how people transact, you create loopholes,” he says, suggesting that policy decisions can inadvertently fuel underground networks.

For all his openness, Kobia draws the line when it comes to one question: his net worth. “That is dangerous for me to disclose,” he says.

Yet, a glimpse into his lifestyle tells the story of private jets, global operations, and daily spending that runs into thousands of dollars.

Flying solo across continents, he says, is simply about efficiency. “You can do three meetings in different countries in a day.”

There is something almost cinematic about Kobia’s life; a blend of ambition, danger, controversy and spectacle. He lost a finger in a drunk-driving accident; an injury he claims earns him respect in Japan.

Is he a savvy businessman who mastered a complex global trade? A risk-taker who thrives in chaos? Or a showman who understands the power of myth? Perhaps he is all rolled in one.