MIKE SILUMA | Thank goodness for the constitution — and the court that upholds it

On a glorious Christmas Day seven years ago, a man arrived unannounced at President Cyril Ramaphosa’s Phala Phala game farm. The visitor, later to be known publicly as Mr Hazim, a Sudanese businessman, carried more than $500,000 with which to buy buffalo.

Thus started the cash-in-the-sofa imbroglio, which would become a monkey on Ramaphosa’s back for years, risking his carefully cultivated image of an anticorruption crusader.

Ramaphosa’s version, as presented to parliament’s section 89 panel, is that he himself wasn’t at Phala Phala when the said Hazim made his fateful appearance, only learning of the transaction from his farm manager the next day.

The competing account with which the panel had to contend was that of former State Security Agency boss Arthur Fraser, who set the cat among the pigeons by laying a raft of criminal charges against the president. He accused him of money laundering and failing to report the subsequent theft of the Hazim money from Phala Phala.

Fraser’s version, says the panel, was that the money had, in fact, been brought into the country by a close Ramaphosa aide.

Faced with the contradictory accounts, the panel expressed “substantial doubt” that the stolen money was indeed the proceeds of a livestock sale. It found that the president may have violated the country’s laws and the constitution, as well as being guilty of serious misconduct.

The core question is: what was the true source of the Phala Phala mountain of cash?

This week, Ramaphosa told the nation that he would take the panel’s report on judicial review, a process unlikely to be wrapped up quickly. That may buy him time, but only for a while. The circling political vultures have sensed blood and will not cease harrying him.

It is clear that the money lies at the heart of Ramaphosa’s present woes. It may come as a godsend for his political foes, inside and outside the ANC, who seek to prematurely end his tenure.

There have been many rumours of his demise over the years, including assertions that he was in the proverbial “departure lounge”, none of which came to pass. But the money factor, and the Constitutional Court’s ruling on May 8, may have brought his exit from the Union Buildings closer.

In his address, Ramaphosa seemed set to drive home just one message: that he was staying put. And with one eye on salvaging his corruption-buster image, he sought to remind the country that he had not stolen public money.

That, plus the fact that he hasn’t been found guilty of a crime, may be true. But that’s not really the issue — the core question is: what was the true source of the Phala Phala mountain of cash?

Ramaphosa points to “Mr Hazim” as the source, due to his love of buffaloes. But the panel has demurred.

A related point being why, in these days of bitcoin and money transfers, the Sudanese visitor took the risk of carrying so much money on his person, behaviour the panel described as “unbusinessmanlike”.

And if it really was “Mr Hazim” who brought the money, why did he then leave his expensive beasts to continue grazing happily at Phala Phala?

Fraser’s version, that the money was brought in for the president by an aide, raises its own questions — why would Ramaphosa, a man of great wealth to start with, have needed such a substantial amount of dollars in cash? Could it be that the money was destined for some as yet undisclosed purpose?

The vengeful former spymaster assailed the president but did not quite kill him. Instead, he may have condemned him to a long, lingering death. A fate experienced by political dead men walking

And then, to make for a tragicomedy surpassed perhaps only by former president Jacob Zuma’s infamous “fire pool” cock-and-bull story, what genius would think the sitting room sofa was the best place to hide the equivalent of millions of rands? Particularly when there is reported to be a safe on the premises.

But to return to Fraser, who must be rubbing his hands in glee right now. Who was it who said, “When you strike at the king, you must kill him”? The vengeful former spymaster assailed the president but did not quite kill him. Instead, he may have condemned him to a long, lingering death. A fate experienced by political dead men walking.

Meanwhile, there have been teachings for all of us in this sorry episode.

While underlining a tenet of the constitution — that no-one is above the law — last week’s court judgment also highlighted another priceless benefit of our constitutional architecture: the way power is distributed across several entities, making it well-nigh impossible for any individual, not even the president, to exercise power unchecked.

In this case, Ramaphosa was cleared by the Reserve Bank, the public protector and the South African Revenue Service. But the judiciary saw things differently, compelling parliament to reopen a matter which ANC MPs thought they had safely buried. And Julius Malema did not have to be arrested for causing embarrassment and grave discomfort to the president.

Some of us, in moments of exasperation at the constitution (including how it protects even the worst of the worst in society), and given high levels of criminality and lawlessness, have wondered if we’d be better off with “a firmer hand” in charge; perhaps even a “benevolent dictator” of sorts.

Now imagine if Ramaphosa was that kind of strongman, capable of controlling all state institutions to save his political skin or protect his party’s fortunes.