“Of course, I started my research, because you always research everyone you’re supposed to go on a date with.” This gem of a quote was by Pernilla Sjöholm, a victim of The Tinder Swindler.
It’s what you do. You check. You dig. You do your homework before you get into bed with anyone.
I found myself repeating her words this week, not about a dubious date, but about a dodgy company called Black Rock Mining, or BRM.
The recently settled landmark “Please Call Me” (PCM) case is now exposing a chilling due diligence blind spot.
A phantom funder has emerged from the shadows to claim a 40% stake in Nkosana Makate’s settlement with Vodacom after a 25-year legal battle.
And so, like any sensible South African would, I searched the internet for BRM.
There was nothing.
The most critical business decision isn’t always who you take on as a partner; sometimes it’s who you manage to shake off.
For Makate, an agreement cancelled 15 years ago, with a now dormant entity named BRM from the British Virgin Islands, has become a 40% share liability.
This situation has rightfully spooked him. He’s gone to court to demand BRM put up “security of costs”: a legal move you make when you suspect the other guy can’t even pay his own lawyer if he loses. It’s like asking someone to show they have enough cash for the taxi home before you let them into your casino.
Makate sees an empty wallet.
A closer forensic look at into BRM’s history reveals a pattern that would set off alarm bells for any compliance officer. The entity is a serial renamer, having operated under at least three different guises — Schoeman, Sterling Rand and Raining Men.
Each time a court ruled in his favour, this shadowy firm popped up demanding that Vodacom hand over Makate’s compensation money.
Whenever a court ruled against the “Please Call Me” inventor’s compensation claim, they ran faster than Forrest Gump.
BRM is a corporate zama zama, an informal, opportunistic miner; it digs in the dark, avoids all legal costs, and only surfaces when a valuable gold streak has been struck by others
Today, Makate’s retort is blunt: the BRM directors are “dishonest and fraudsters”. And when you look at their history, it’s hard not to believe Makate.
The initial “funding” for Makate’s legal battle in 2011 was a paltry R7,853 from a since-deceased advocate, Christiaan Schoeman. That’s not litigation funding; that’s a decent grocery run.
BRM is a corporate zama zama, an informal, opportunistic miner; it digs in the dark, avoids all legal costs, and only surfaces when a valuable gold streak has been struck by others.
When Makate lost a Constitutional Court case on July 31 2024 and Vodacom presented him with a R12m bill, where was his funder then? BRM had vanished.
When he needed them to prove their financial muscle, they retreated into their hole.
A real funder stands by you in the trenches. A zama-zama disappears when the ground gets shaky.
The plot, as they say, thickened.
An arbitrator found that the nomination of one of these mutant companies, Raining Men, was fraudulent, involving a forged signature of Makate to create a nonexistent contract.
Schoeman had even acknowledged that the original funding deal was cancelled back in 2015.
For 10 years, the director, Errol Elsdon, did nothing about this cancellation, only to resurface now, like a bad currency, when a real payout is imminent.
Before the final out-of-court settlement, on January 9 2019, Vodacom made an offer of R47m to settle the matter, which Makate rejected. At that stage, BRM hadn’t sued for 40% of R47m.
The only plausible reason one can find is that BRM knew Makate’s legal fees were way above the offer, and they had to fund the astronomical bill, so they simply vanished.
In 2024, the high court granted Makate a rule 35 order to demand BRM bank statements, and guess what? BRM withdrew its claims unconditionally, avoiding the production of bank statement proof.
It’s because this isn’t about honouring an agreement. It’s chance-taking, a gamble.
The courts have now launched their own “Operation Vala Umgodi” — to shut down illegal mining shafts. For BRM, this means it has been ordered to finally come clean, to reveal the bank statements that prove they ever funded a single cent of Makate’s struggle.
December 3 is D-Day. BRM must pay the security costs and justify the urgency of its court matter.
Many South Africans might have been misled, thinking this was a serious funder. But a quick analysis of all the cases involving them and Makate reveals the truth.
BRM is just a zama zama.
• Lourie is editor and founder of Tech Financials
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