AS I sit here sipping my rooibos tea, wrapped in two blankets and still losing the battle against this winter cold, my mind keeps wandering back to the biggest blooper of the year.
No, not Parliament failing to raise a quorum. That has become a national hobby. Not another government ministry discovering missing millions. That hardly qualifies as breaking news anymore.
Not even another politician crossing the floor after discovering that principles are seasonal. No, dear readers. Nothing comes close to the SGK saga.
More specifically, nothing comes close to how an entire Member of Parliament, party leader, former Trade Minister, accountant by profession, and once-upon-a-time aspirant for the highest office in the land could publicly become SGK’s unofficial chief marketing officer.
Lady Scrutator is still scratching her head.
Since his days in Ntate Tom’s ABC, Lady Scrutator had admired Ntate Mapesela. My beloved Pesi.
He wasn’t just another politician who discovered patriotism during election campaigns. He appeared to genuinely love this country.
He fought for Basotho wool and mohair producers when many preferred exporting raw products to South Africa. He took on powerful interests, including fellow Borankulikae, arguing that Basotho deserved to benefit from processing their own produce.
Now that was courage. That was conviction. That was patriotism.
Lady Scrutator would even blush whenever we crossed paths. Seeing his picture in the newspaper was enough to send me into Lalaland.
He was, in my books, one of the few politicians who seemed willing to fight for ordinary Basotho.
Then came SGK. My goodness!
If disappointment could be bottled and sold, Lady Scrutator would now own a factory.
The same Ntate Pesi whom many regarded as a sober voice became the loudest cheerleader for what has now been exposed as one of the biggest financial scams to hit this country since the notorious MKM and MMM disasters.
His now-famous video keeps resurfacing like a stubborn cold sore.
“Join SGK! Join SGK! Join SGK! It is a legitimate investment forum.”
Those words have become the soundtrack of thousands of broken dreams. Some people joined because neighbours were joining. Others joined because relatives had supposedly doubled their money. But many joined because respected leaders like Ntate Pesi told them everything was above board.
That is where this story stops being funny. When an ordinary villager recommends an investment, people take it with a pinch of salt. When an unemployed youth says he has found the next big thing, people remain cautious.
But when an accountant…
A former cabinet minister…
A sitting Member of Parliament…
A party leader…
A man trusted by thousands…stands before cameras assuring the nation that something is legitimate, people listen. That is the privilege of leadership. Unfortunately, it is also the burden.
Leadership is not merely enjoying blue-light convoys and parliamentary allowances. It comes with responsibility. People trust you. They believe you. Sometimes they follow you blindly. That trust should never become collateral damage.
Some pensioners reportedly invested their life savings. Imagine being over eighty years old. Imagine surviving droughts, political instability, unemployment in your family, raising grandchildren and somehow managing to save a little pension.
Then a “respected” politician tells you there is a legitimate investment opportunity. Wouldn’t you believe him? Many did. Now those savings have disappeared faster than ministers after a corruption scandal breaks.
What pains Lady Scrutator most is hearing Ntate Pesi explaining that he, too, lost more than M300,000. Forgive me if I fail to produce the required violin.
Yes, losing M300,000 hurts. Nobody celebrates financial loss. But forgive ordinary Basotho for not rushing to offer sympathy.
The unemployed graduate who borrowed money to invest has lost far more than cash. The widow who invested her pension has lost security. The civil servant who hoped to escape debt has lost hope. Some families have reportedly fallen apart. Others are too embarrassed even to admit they invested.
These people cannot simply recover by selling another bale of wool or a few sheep. Many will spend years rebuilding what disappeared in months. Ntate Pesi, on the other hand, still has his livestock. He still has Parliament. He still has opportunities many ordinary Basotho can only dream about. The imbalance is obvious.
What makes the entire episode even more astonishing is that Lesotho has seen this movie before. Remember MKM? Remember MMM? Every few years another miracle investment appears promising impossible riches. Every few years people swear, “This one is different”. Every few years reality arrives carrying a very expensive invoice. And every few years Basotho collectively promise never to fall for such schemes again. Apparently our national memory has the lifespan of ripe bananas.
The saddest part is how SGK became fashionable. Those who questioned it were dismissed as jealous. Those who warned against it were labelled backward. Those who refused to join looked like fools while others flashed screenshots of supposed profits on social media.
People began measuring intelligence by whether one had joined SGK. Even warnings from the Central Bank struggled to compete with glowing testimonials from influential figures.
When respected leaders endorse something, official warnings suddenly sound like background noise. That is precisely why public figures must exercise extraordinary caution. An endorsement from someone in authority carries enormous weight. It can build confidence. It can also destroy lives. Leadership is influence. Influence without responsibility is dangerous.
Now the Financial Intelligence Unit has painted a grim picture of how Basotho’s hard-earned money allegedly travelled through payment processors and eventually into cryptocurrency, with the ultimate beneficiaries remaining unknown.
In simple English, money seems to have vanished into cyberspace faster than a government’s promises after elections.
What a tragedy. Lady Scrutator has heard some people argue that Ntate Pesi is also a victim. Perhaps. But there are victims, and then there are influential victims. The difference matters.
An influential victim has the power to influence thousands before discovering the truth. Ordinary victims merely lose their own money. That distinction cannot simply be brushed aside. Perhaps the law will determine whether anyone bears legal responsibility.
Lady Scrutator is no judge. But morally? Politically? Publicly? Surely leaders must answer for the advice they enthusiastically gave.
After all, if politicians happily claim credit whenever projects succeed, should they not also accept criticism when their endorsements spectacularly fail?
Otherwise, leadership becomes a one-way street where praise is welcome but accountability is optional. That cannot be right. Perhaps this whole episode should become compulsory teaching material in schools. Not economics. Common sense.
Lesson One: If someone promises guaranteed riches, run.
Lesson Two: If returns sound too good to be true, they probably are.
Lesson Three: Never outsource your financial thinking, even to politicians.
As Lady Scrutator finishes her now cold rooibos tea, one question refuses to leave her mind.
Where was the patriotism when vulnerable Basotho were being encouraged to board a financial bus whose brakes clearly were not working? The man who once fought to protect Basotho producers somehow ended up helping market what many now regard as one of the country’s most painful financial disasters.
That, my dear beloved, is not merely a political embarrassment. It is the blooper of the year.
I also hope with this blooper, Ntate Pesi shelves his ambition of ever becoming Prime Minister of this country. Basotho cannot afford to have an irresponsible gambler as their leader. We cannot keep on gambling with our future.
Fortunately, and very fortunately, even if Ntate Pesi does not end his ambition to lead this country through his one man, several nyatsis political party (I have frankly forgotten the party’s name), there is no chance he will ever become Prime Minister. In fact, there are better chances of a joint cosmic collision of Mars, Earth, Jupiter and Moon than the man from Mokholtlong rising the political ladder to lead this Kingdom. That’s a good thing.
Anyone who believes in the SGK nonsense can believe anything. Nations are not built on gambling. They are built on coherent policy platforms.
Ntate Pesi can afford to gamble his MP’s wage on the SGK hoax. He however cannot be entrusted with gambling away our whole national budget. It’s therefore a huge relief that he is now at the helm of a moribund political party (whatever it is called)? It’s a huge relief that he has no chance in hell of ever becoming Prime Minister.
And to the rest of Basotho, the only road to success is through hard work. There are no short cuts to wealth unless you are a belly minister with access to tenders. This thing of investing one’s savings into Ponzi schemes which promise unrealistic returns is so silly and stupid. I find it hard to believe that anyone actually believes these fantasies. But there we have it. There are Basotho who believe in fairy tales. Give me M10 000 and I give you M100 000 (ten times more in return) after a few weeks….? No questions asked about where this M10 000 can be realistically invested to yield such huge, improbable returns? After MKM, let’s hope Basotho open their eyes and everything ends with SGK. But sadly, they won’t. At this rate, Scrutator might just consider pursuing a new trade as a sangoma or start my own Ponzi scheme. It’s surely a profitable business telling Basotho fairy tales.
Ache!!!
