The deliciousness of the Cat in his sandbox and MPs in prison

Seeing members of Parliament in a jail, where many argue they belong, and an alleged crime cartel boss having to ask for a bathroom break was so satisfying

- Bhekisisa Mncube

Ah, Chief Dwasaho! Last week’s special sitting of the ad hoc parliamentary committee investigating judicial capture and political interference in the South African Police Service (SAPS) did the unthinkable: it held its proceedings inside Kgosi Mampuru II Correctional Centre.

Not the people’s Parliament, but the people’s penitentiary — a decision that will go down as one of the more theatrical chapters in our young democracy.

For a brief but powerful moment, it felt as though the long-suffering taxpayers of this country — the very citizens who keep Parliament’s lights on — were holding their breath. Our collective imagination finally aligned with our sense of justice: the lawmakers meeting in a building usually reserved for lawbreakers.

Members of Parliament (MPs) came perilously close to wearing orange, not in symbolic protest but in poetic justice: the colour of accountability, the colour that says nobody is above the law.

It was a chilling thought: 11 MPs, the very guardians of democratic accountability, were suddenly under a different spotlight, the kind that doesn’t come with a parliamentary switch-off button. Citizens have long whispered that some of these esteemed honourables belong not in cushioned benches, but behind high-security gates. That whisper became a possibility. The line between high office and prison cell block blurred.

My leader, it was also momentarily pleasing — delicious even — to witness the scene no South African taxpayer ever expected to see in their lifetime: alleged drug-cartel kingpin and commander of the “Big Five” criminal economy, Vusimuzi “Cat” Matlala, meekly raising his hand to ask for permission to go to the bathroom.