Lesotho, land of the bizarre, has done it again. Last weekend, our so-called anti-corruption agency, the DCEO, stormed into action — not against ministers who’ve looted billions, not against PSes who treat tenders like ATMs, but against… a journalist.
Acting Lesotho Times editor Mohalenyane Phakela was dragged, threatened, stripped of his phones, and dumped in a urine-soaked cell. His crime? Receiving a DCEO letter from Maseru Toyota about three missing TVs allegedly diverted by a prisons boss to entertain his concubines. Three TVs! That’s what wakes the Directorate from its eternal slumber.
Meanwhile, the grand thieves of state sleep peacefully. Not one minister has ever been nailed. Which is why the DCEO should be renamed the DPCEO — Directorate on Protecting Corruption and Economic Offences.
And as if that circus wasn’t enough, we also have Reverend Dr Lipholo charged with treason for training phantom militias to “reclaim” South African land — a fantasy even Pretoria laughs at.
Yes, this is Lesotho: a country where the trivial becomes national crisis, the serious is ignored, and the bizarre rules supreme.
Lesotho has never been mislabelled as the land of the bizarre. That title is not accidental. It is well-earned, worn like a crown of shame, polished by decades of absurdity. Strange things happen everywhere in the world, but here in this Mountain Kingdom, bizarre is an Olympic sport. And every so often, the nation finds a new way to push the boundaries of incomprehensibility.
Take last weekend’s debacle — the one that plastered Lesotho across international headlines for all the wrong reasons (again). A Directorate on Corruption and Economic Offences (DCEO) official, desperate to impress someone — God alone knows who — decided the biggest threat to the nation was not grand corruption, not collapsing hospitals, not hunger, but a journalist. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the full weight of Lesotho’s anti-corruption agency came down on one man: the Acting Editor of the Lesotho Times, Mohalenyane Phakela. The handsome young man. Ladies beware?
Arresting a journalist for… a letter?
The saga began with an inane letter. The DCEO had written to Toyota Maseru to confirm whether it had donated three TV sets to the Lesotho Correctional Service. Those TVs were allegedly diverted by prisons boss Mating Nkakala for the entertainment of his concubines. Phakela’s “crime” was to receive this letter, which the DCEO itself had written. For this, he was summoned, threatened, and hauled to DCEO headquarters by a man with the unfortunate name Senooe.
There, in a scene fit for a banana republic, officials confiscated his phones, downloaded his data, threatened him with jail, and then dumped him overnight in the urine-infested, slime-slick cells of Maseru Central Police. He slept on concrete — a calculated act of humiliation and psychological torture.
Pause here: which country in the modern world arrests journalists, confiscates their phones, and raids their data simply for doing their job? North Korea? Eritrea? And now, Lesotho. Truly, this is a republic of bananas without the bananas.
The uselessness of the three-TV saga
Let us not lose sight of the bigger absurdity. This was over three television sets. Three! While the country is a cesspool of grand corruption where billions have been stolen by ministers, principal secretaries, and their cronies, our so-called anti-graft agency swings into battle over three TVs allegedly diverted to a girlfriend’s lounge.
It would be laughable if it weren’t tragic. Billions have over the years since independence – vanished into the pockets of politicians, but show us one — just one — minister or PS successfully prosecuted by the DCEO. The number is the same as the number of TVs now missing from LCS: zero.
Which brings Scrutator to the obvious conclusion: the institution should drop the “C” for Corruption in its name. Let it be known by its true title: The Directorate on Protecting Corruption and Economic Offences (DPCEO). Because protecting corruption is the only thing it does consistently.
Fear tactics won’t work
And here is the bigger joke: if the intention of the DCEO and its overeager officer, Senooe, was to scare Phakela and the Lesotho Times into silence, then disappointment is already waiting with open arms. During his tantrum, Senooe himself let slip that his real grievance was not three missing TVs but the fact that Phakela had written on a leaked DCEO document about a corruption investigation involving M109 million at the Ministry of Agriculture.
Let’s be clear: DCEO documents — written in such tortured English they could be classified as crimes against grammar — are not “classified” documents in the legal sense. Nothing in law prevents journalists from reporting on them. If anything, it is in the public interest that Basotho know how their billions are being siphoned, not hidden.
So here is Scrutator’s vow: if the Lesotho Times receives leaked DCEO dockets, however badly typed, we will report on them. Because sunlight is the best disinfectant, and because Basotho deserve truth, not secrecy. Senooe can storm and rant all he wants, but disappointment is the only destination of his intimidation train.
Free publicity rejected
One would think that if the DCEO were truly serious, it would be delighted by the publicity generated by Ntate Phakela’s scoop. After all, journalists reporting on its dockets make it look like the agency is busy tackling corruption — even if that is the grandest illusion in the kingdom. But instead of being grateful for free PR, the DPCEO responded by attacking the messenger. That’s like a starving man throwing away free food because the waiter delivered it with the wrong smile. Madness.
Lesotho’s love affair with nonsense
And this is where Lesotho excels: in fixating on nonsense while ignoring the issues that matter. The nation wallows in poverty. Families go hungry. Youth unemployment is epidemic. Roads are crumbling despite some repairs here and there. Hospitals and clinics are shells of misery. Yet institutions of state are seized by three TVs and a harmless letter.
As if this weren’t enough national embarrassment, enter another bizarre saga: the treason case of Reverend Dr Lipholo, leader of the Basotho Covenant Movement (BCM). His mission? To reclaim lands “stolen” by South Africa, allegedly by recruiting Basotho militias for training across the border.
A treason trial built on fantasy
Here’s the catch: South Africa, the supposed victim of this militant crusade, has laughed off the claim. It has denied that any such training exists. The farms where Lipholo’s “soldiers” were supposedly sharpening their machetes turned out to be figments of imagination. Even Pretoria has dismissed it as a hoax.
Yet here we are: Lipholo charged with treason, denied bail, his fantasy elevated into a national security crisis. Instead of tackling food insecurity or corruption, the courts are clogged with this circus. Why, Scrutator asks, do Basotho institutions waste so much energy on shadows while the real monsters of hunger, joblessness, and graft roam free?
Banana republic, certified and stamped
Add it all together:
- A journalist arrested for exposing a three-TV scandal.
- A prosecutor (Motinyane) suspended for prosecuting real leaders.
- A parliamentarian (Hlaele) obsessed with banning naturalised citizens instead of crooks.
- A pastor charged with treason for plotting to invade South Africa with an imaginary army.
This is not governance. This is a tragicomedy. And it explains why the world only hears of Lesotho for bizarre headlines: a Prime Minister implicated in murdering his wife to create room to marry a new young concubine, an army commander assassinating rivals, endless coups, no-confidence motions, and now — concubine televisions and phantom militias.
The questions that matter
Scrutator must ask: when will Lesotho focus on the real crises? When will institutions stop chasing three TVs and start recovering the billions looted? When will the courts stop entertaining fantasies of land invasions and start delivering justice for ordinary Basotho? When will the DPCEO stop tormenting journalists and start prosecuting thieves?
Until then, the Kingdom remains what it has become famous for: a land of the bizarre, where the urgent is ignored, the trivial is elevated, and the nation marches proudly backwards into penury.
Whistleblowers, fear not
And to our brave whistleblowers out there — those patriots who slip us the smoking dockets that make crooks sweat — Scrutator must offer reassurance: do not be shaken by Senooe’s cowboy antics. You are safe. The Lesotho Times does not raise sheep for slaughter; it raises street-wise journalists trained to play this dangerous game.
Losing phones? That’s old news. In a land of muggings, thefts, and Senooe-style heavy-handed raids, we have always anticipated it. Which is why the real tools of our trade — the real phones, the real records — are hidden in places the DPCEO will never find, no matter how many laptops they plug into.
So rest assured: your secrets are safe. Keep the leaks coming. We will protect you, and if need be, we will invent new tricks to stay ahead of the DPCEO’s clumsy dragnet. After all, corruption thrives in darkness, and it is our sacred duty to drag it into the light.
Let’s fight until Lesotho becomes a better place for all its citizens, a country that Donald Trump will actually get to hear and know of. Let’s do that in spite and despite the DPCEO
Ache!!!
