PAC’s sudden spiritual quest for ‘procedural purity’
Ah, the curious case of the Amaryllis Hotel—where the only thing rising faster than the hotel’s elevator is the price of the building itself. One moment, the Public Accounts Committee (PAC) is charging ahead with a “ready-to-go” report, and the next, they’ve suddenly discovered a profound, spiritual need for “more time”.
It’s almost as if they looked at the report and realized it was less of an audit and more of a political suicide note.
The official line from PAC Chairperson Steven Malondera is that they need another month to hear from “important individuals”—some of whom, conveniently, were “medical tourists” or “busy” when the initial summons went out.
The government, through Leader of the House Jappie Mhango, has taken the high ground of “procedural purity,” insisting they won’t touch a “half-baked” report. It’s a touching display of quality control from an administration that usually moves at the speed of a snail in a glue trap.
If you’re looking for the “problem,” you’ll find it in the K128.75 billion price tag—a figure that ballooned from a modest K47 billion faster than you can say “kickback.”
Key witnesses like former Secretary to the President and Cabinet, Colleen Zamba, have been cited as missing pieces of the puzzle.
The Executive’s sudden obsession with “fairness and completeness” looks a lot like a tactical retreat. If the report names the wrong people— or the right people at the wrong time—it could turn the “Amaryllis Deal” into the “Amaryllis Disaster” for the ruling party.
It’s been a whole three weeks since I first pointed out that scrubbing the stench of the Amaryllis Hotel deal off the Public Service Pension Trust Fund (PSPTF) is going to take more than a bottle of industrial-strength bleach.
As I mused back then, we’re still miles away from the finish line. The biggest hurdle? The fact that this K128 billion “investment” was wrapped up with a neat little bow right under the nose of the current administration. It’s hard to scream “Stop, thief!” when the suspect is sitting at your dinner table.
The irony is delicious: within a month of taking power, the DPP regime froze every contract signed by the outgoing MCP government like they were clearing a crime scene. Yet, miraculously, the Amaryllis deal was granted divine immunity. It wasn’t just spared; it was ushered through the gates while everything else was left out in the cold. Apparently, some rats aren’t just sitting on the pot—they’re being fed gourmet cheese.
Oh, the spectacle of Chris Kapondamgaga at PAC—a masterclass in “governance by osmosis.” In March 2026, the former State House Chief of Staff appeared before the committee to discuss the controversial K128.75 billion Amaryllis Hotel deal, behaving less like a top official and more like a tourist who accidentally wandered into a high-stakes board meeting.
The “elephant in the room” he so eloquently addressed wasn’t a hidden scandal, but rather the “paradox” of the government’s own behaviour. While the administration was busy announcing austerity measures and freezing high-value asset purchases, it was somehow also fast-tracking the acquisition of a luxury hotel at nearly triple its original valuation.
With a touch of satire, here is the question he essentially posed to the committee: “If the government has officially frozen all high-value purchases, why are we currently discussing the purchase of a high-value hotel?”
Kapondamgaga insisted he was merely an “observer” at the crucial Mzuzu meeting. Appa r ent l y, b e i n g t h e President’s Chief of Staff means your presence is strictly decorative, carrying no more influence than a potted plant in the corner.
He urged the committee to ask “strategic questions” about the paradox of buying a hotel during a spending freeze. It’s a bold move to point at the fire you’re standing in and ask the investigators why it’s so warm.
While PAC tried to find out who authorised the deal, Kapondamgaga remained a picture of “clean hands,” leaving the public to wonder if the “elephant in the room” was actually just a very expensive hotel suite.
Despite the Reserve Bank of Malawi’s attempt to pull the plug on the deal, the money has largely flown the coop—about K90 billion of it. The report is “going nowhere, now or at any other time”; it’s currently parked in the legislative equivalent of an “under-remodelling” hotel suite, where it will likely stay until the public’s memory of the scandal becomes as d

