It was the scandal that just would not go away. And now, it is back with a vengeance. South Africa's President Cyril Ramaphosa is facing fresh questions over the infamous 2020 farm robbery where foreign currency was allegedly stashed under sofa cushions.
The saga, dubbed 'Farmgate' or 'cash-in-the-sofa' by local media, has been a persistent thorn in Ramaphosa's side. It threatened his presidency once before, and now it is doing so again. The new twist? A leaked report from a former intelligence chief claims the president was directly involved in the cover-up.
Let me walk you through the timeline. In June 2020, thieves broke into Ramaphosa's game farm in Limpopo. They made off with a substantial sum, supposedly $580,000, hidden in furniture. The president reported the theft to a police unit, but controversy erupted over the source of the cash. Was it legitimate? Or did it point to something murkier?
Ramaphosa insisted the money came from a sale of buffalo. But critics were sceptical. The matter was investigated by a panel, which found no evidence of wrongdoing. Yet the political damage was done. The president survived an internal ANC attempt to force him out. It seemed the storm had passed.
But in Westminster, we learn nothing is ever truly buried in African politics. A new report by former intelligence head Arthur Fraser has reignited the debate. Fraser claims the president ordered a cover-up. He alleges the stolen cash was linked to a kidnapping and illegal foreign currency deals. The document is explosive. It is being circulated among ANC factions and opposition parties.
Why now? Two reasons. First, Ramaphosa is expected to seek a second term at ANC's December conference. Enemies within the party see this as their last chance to stop him. Second, state capture hearings have reopened wounds about corruption in South Africa. The president's clean image is his greatest asset. This leak is a direct attack on it.
The opposition Democratic Alliance has already called for a parliamentary inquiry. The ANC's disciplinary committee is scrambling to contain the damage. Ramaphosa's office has dismissed the allegations as 'recycled nonsense'. But the whispers in Cape Town are that this has legs.
What is at stake? A lot. South Africa is struggling with economic stagnation, high unemployment, and a broken electricity grid. Investors have been cautiously optimistic under Ramaphosa's reformist agenda. Another drawn-out scandal could derail this. It could also split the ANC further.
The president is fighting on multiple fronts. He faces a no-confidence vote next month triggered by the opposition. He is also battling internal factions who want a return to the populist policies of Jacob Zuma. This sofa saga is their perfect weapon.
Fraser, the source, is no saint. He is a former spy boss with his own axe to grind. He was fired by Ramaphosa in 2018. Critics say his report is a political hit job. But in the dark alleys of power, leaks like these rarely emerge without purpose. Someone wants Ramaphosa weakened.
There is also the question of the missing money. None of the cash has been recovered. The police investigation went cold. The public wants answers. Every time the story resurfaces, it feeds a narrative of elite impunity.
This is not a crisis yet. But it is a headache. The president has one advantage: he controls the party machinery. His allies are expected to rally behind him. But loyalty can be bought. And the ANC is a house divided.
So, watch this space. The cash-in-the-sofa saga is like a bad penny. It keeps turning up. For Ramaphosa, the sofa has become a political trap. He can ignore it, but at his peril. Or he can try to clear his name fully. That would mean a proper independent probe. But in today's climate, that might open a can of worms.
Westminster has taught me one thing: when a scandal refuses to die, it is because someone wants it alive. The question is who, and how long can the president hold out?
