Andile Khumalo The women who said no to VBS

Reeling from advocate Terry Motau’s explosive report on the VBS bank heist, the former auditor in me couldn’t help but wonder how such brazen looting could happen in the first place. I concluded that it could only have been collusion. Deliberate, sophisticated, well-oiled and well-executed collusion.

By definition, collusion requires some form of secret co-operation or conspiracy designed to deceive. It is the ultimate terminator of internal controls. Allegedly, by paying off all the people who should have raised red flags, the chair of VBS was able to ensure loyally collusive accomplices across all its governance structures.

My favourite instance was when the chair allegedly handed over the “Eagle Canyon spreadsheet” to his head of treasury and the CFO with an instruction to wipe out the overdraft balances of 34 accounts, amounting to R249m. According to Motau’s report, both executives received in excess of R30m for their efforts in this regard.

However, while the “eating” by VBS executives, associates and, apparently, politicians has rightly made headlines, there are some unsung heroes in this whole mess — two women in particular.

Meet Mariette Venter, a chartered accountant and the acting CFO of the Capricorn district municipality in Limpopo.

Venter was adamant that the municipality could not invest funds with VBS, as this was against the Municipal Finance Management Act. The municipality’s own cash and investment policy required that “investments shall only be made with institutions with a BBB or higher rating investment grade rated by [S&P] or Moody’s”. VBS did not have this.

Since the decision on how to invest the municipality’s monies lay solely with Venter, she decided — against a flood of opposition — not to invest with VBS.

But then she went on leave, in December 2015, and, in a matter of days, R60m was deposited with VBS.

She spent months fighting to get the money back and eventually, six months later, having “experienced considerable difficulty in extracting the funds”, she threatened to refer the matter to the Reserve Bank, and VBS repaid the money.

“Venter’s intervention came at some personal cost to her. She was put under considerable pressure by the then mayor of Capricorn, Gilbert Kganyago, who told her in no uncertain terms that all investment decisions fell within his sole domain. The mayor was clearly wrong in that regard,” writes Motau.

“After Venter had successfully obtained the return of the monies from VBS she was rewarded for her efforts by being suspended from her post, albeit for a supposed unrelated matter. The suspension was lifted unceremoniously about a week later and Capricorn refrained from making any further deposits with VBS, making it one of the few municipalities in Limpopo that did not find itself in serious financial difficulty when VBS was placed under curatorship,” he concludes.

Then there is Yvonne Page, a former CFO at the Passenger Rail Agency of SA (Prasa).

She told Motau that VBS had approached the then acting CEO of Prasa, Lindikhaya Zide, to persuade him to place R1bn with VBS. Like Venter, Page concluded that her employer could not invest with VBS, not only because the bank had assets of only R1bn and yet wanted Prasa to also invest R1bn, but investing any amount would be against Treasury regulations and the rail agency’s own investment policy.

Zide apparently told Page that “this is political, and we have to invest R500m and then later another R500m”. Page refused.

Then, in December 2017, Prasa got a new acting CEO in Cromet Molepo. In a matter of weeks, Molepo apparently called Page into a meeting with VBS executives and representatives. A day later she received an e-mail “confirming the agreed investment” and asking Prasa to submit its Fica documents to kick things off.

Again, Page refused.

What Page didn’t know is that her former boss, Zide, had apparently written a warm letter to the VBS CEO confirming that the investment would happen and Page’s department would be in touch to finalise it.

But that was not the end. Page’s new boss, Molepo, picked up where Zide left off.

Near the end of January this year, after less than two months on the job, Molepo sent an e-mail to Page instructing her to get the ball rolling on the investment with VBS, as the bank had increased its interest rate offer to 9.25% and, according to Molepo, this transaction was “of a strategic nature, in terms of transformation”.

Again, Page refused. This time, she alerted the National Treasury, and the matter subsequently became public and all the sponsors of the VBS “investment” retreated.

It is clear that Motau’s report will be denied by the many people it implicates, and, as the wheels of justice turn, there may well be elements that are successfully challenged.

However, on the basis of the accounts relayed by Venter and Page to Motau, South Africans owe these two women a tremendous amount of gratitude. To stand up to such prodigious pressure in a patriarchal social system, where many men exercise immense authority over women in various aspects of our society, is nothing short of astounding.

Respect, ladies.

To stand up to such prodigious pressure is nothing short of astounding