Street Kid Turned Businessman Now at Center of South Africa Police Corruption Case

Vusimusi “Cat” Matlala raised himself on the streets of a township east of Pretoria after his mother abandoned him. He survived arrests, a conviction for possessing stolen goods, and years of legal entanglement before registering his first formal business in 2017. Now 49, sitting in police custody on attempted murder charges he denies, he is expected to face questioning before retired Constitutional Court judge Mbuyiseli Madlanga and the commission investigating alleged police corruption.

For ten months, Matlala’s name has shadowed the Madlanga Commission as witnesses described how he allegedly supplied gifts to senior police officers in exchange for lucrative government contracts. Those gifts included 20 impalas, shots of the weight-loss drug Ozempic, and personal loans. He has also been accused of belonging to a drug trafficking cartel known as the Big Five, allegations he has not yet publicly addressed. South Africans have watched the inquiry with intense interest, waiting to hear how Matlala himself responds.

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His story begins under apartheid. Born in 1976, he told lawmakers last November that his mother “disappeared on me” when he was young. “I had to raise myself. I was actually a street kid,” he said during his parliamentary testimony. He eventually found her again in 2002, only to learn she was terminally ill. After her death, he discovered she had been sexually assaulted, which he attributed to her albinism and the harmful myths surrounding the condition.

The years that followed were marked by legal trouble. He ran informal businesses to survive, leading to various arrests. In 2001, he was convicted and imprisoned for possessing stolen goods. Subsequent charges for house robberies, cash-in-transit heists and assault were either withdrawn or ended in acquittal, though the pattern of entanglement followed him into adulthood.

The turning point, by his own account, came in 2017. He registered his first formal security business, then expanded into healthcare despite having no prior experience in the field. The expansion proved remarkably successful. He secured contracts first with a hospital, then with the police. His rapid ascent into government contracting coincided with deepening connections to senior police officers.

When Matlala appeared before parliament’s inquiry last November, he wore a Fendi shirt and Gucci glasses. He denied knowing senior police officers and politicians personally, rejected corruption allegations, and acknowledged making donations to activities related to the African National Congress. He explained his nickname “Cat” not as a reference to surviving trouble with nine lives, but because he has nine children with his wife. His parliamentary testimony, it turned out, addressed only a fraction of what the Madlanga Commission would later hear.

Since September, when the commission began hearing evidence, a detailed picture of alleged corrupt relationships has come into public view. According to testimony, Matlala paid former Police Minister Bheki Cele a 500,000 rand ($31,000; £23,000) “facilitation fee” after police returned firearms seized from him. Matlala also alleged that Cele requested help purchasing a home and paying for his son’s studies, requests he said he refused. Cele admitted knowing Matlala for a couple of months and staying at his rented Pretoria penthouse twice, but denied receiving money from him.

Meanwhile, allegations involving suspended deputy police chief Maj-Gen Shadrack Sibiya have also surfaced. Testimony alleged that Sibiya received 20 impalas from Matlala around the time the businessman was awarded a police contract. Sibiya denied this, saying he would never “receive anything from a service provider.” A witness also claimed Matlala bragged about his “close connections with very senior police officials,” including Sibiya, following his arrest in May last year.

Brig Rachel Matjeng, who oversaw the police contract awarded to Matlala, told the commission she had an on-off romantic relationship with him that included lavish gifts, among them the Ozempic shots. Maj-Gen Richard Shibiri, head of the police’s organised crime unit, admitted to receiving a $4,000 “personal loan” from Matlala for repairs to his son’s car. Shibiri said he was unaware Matlala was involved in any cartel or criminal investigation, despite their frequent personal conversations. Both Matjeng and Shibiri have since been fired from the police force.

The inquiry has also examined allegations that while Julius Mkhwanazi served as Ekurhuleni’s acting police chief, he arranged for blue lights and sirens to be fitted on Matlala’s personal vehicles. Mkhwanazi, now suspended, denied the allegations but admitted receiving money from Matlala, describing him as a “blood brother” during his commission appearance.

Matlala’s arrest in May 2025 on attempted murder charges, which he denies, came as the commission was beginning its work. His wife faces the same charge and denies it. She has been granted bail while he remains in custody. He was later charged with corruption related to providing health services to police and pleaded guilty as part of a prosecution deal, but has since withdrawn that plea after the agreement fell apart.

What his testimony before the Madlanga Commission will ultimately reveal remains the central question. How a man who once slept on township streets came to supply impalas and Ozempic to senior police officers, and what that says about the systems that allowed it to happen, is something South Africans are still waiting to understand.