By Princess Eugene Majuru
In the mid-1990s, as South Africa reintroduced itself to the world after apartheid, a new class of cultural power brokers emerged—young, ambitious, and determined to define the sound and style of a new nation. Among them, few burned as brightly or as controversially as Tich Mataz, Tichafa, Augustine Matambanadzo.
He was not merely a radio presenter. He was a phenomenon.
Known as “The Midas Touch,” Mataz moved effortlessly between radio studios, television sets, corporate boardrooms, and the pulsating nightlife of Johannesburg. His voice carried across the airwaves, his presence dominated elite social circles, and his business ventures multiplied rapidly. At a time when Black wealth and influence in mainstream South African media were still taking shape, Mataz appeared to leapfrog the entire system.
By his mid-20s, he was widely regarded as one of the youngest self-made millionaires in the country. He owned multiple properties, drove luxury cars, and built a brand that merged entertainment with entrepreneurship. To many, he represented the limitless possibilities of a new South Africa. To others, he was moving too fast, too visibly, and perhaps too boldly.
Then, almost overnight, he disappeared.
The Collapse Behind the Legend
The story that circulated for years was dramatic: that Mataz had been banned—some said even by presidential order—due to political or unspecified “issues.” It was a narrative that fed into his larger-than-life persona. But the truth, while still serious, was less conspiratorial and more procedural.
In 1998, South African authorities discovered that Mataz was working in the country without a valid permit. His original work authorization had expired, and despite being granted time to regularize his status, he continued to operate within the media industry in violation of immigration conditions. Investigations also revealed irregularities in the documentation he used to remain in the country. The result was swift and decisive: deportation.
There was no formal political ban. No presidential decree. Instead, there was an immigration breach that led to his removal and restrictions on his ability to return and work in South Africa. However, because of his high profile and the speed with which he vanished from public life, the incident took on a mythic quality. In the absence of clear public explanation, speculation filled the gap.
Why the Myth Endured
Mataz’s story did not fade quietly because he was not an ordinary figure. His rise had been so meteoric, his presence so dominant, that his fall demanded explanation beyond bureaucracy.
Several factors contributed to the enduring myth of a “ban.”
First, visibility. Mataz was everywhere—on radio, television, and in high-end social spaces. When he disappeared, it felt like a deliberate erasure.
Second, timing. Post-apartheid South Africa was navigating new tensions around identity, ownership, and opportunity. A young, foreign-born Black millionaire thriving in national media challenged both old hierarchies and emerging ones.
Third, perception. Some contemporaries believed that elements of xenophobia or discomfort with his rapid success played a role in how strictly his case was handled. While there is no definitive evidence to support a political motive, the perception itself became part of the story. Over time, fact and folklore merged. The legal reality became overshadowed by a more dramatic narrative of exclusion and exile.
Exile and Reinvention
Following his deportation, Mataz returned to Zimbabwe, where his life entered a more turbulent phase. The certainty and glamour of his South African years gave way to a series of reinventions, controversies, and legal challenges.
He remained active in media, particularly in radio and entertainment, but his career was punctuated by setbacks, including fraud allegations and other legal issues that kept him in the public eye for reasons very different from his earlier success.
Yet, what stands out in this period is not simply the controversy, but the persistence.
Mataz did not disappear into obscurity. He continued to work, to create, and to reassert himself within the media landscape. In 2023, he launched a television platform, signaling that his ambitions had not diminished, even if his circumstances had changed.
His story became less about meteoric rise and more about endurance—about a man who refused to be defined solely by his fall.
The Return: A New Chapter on a Familiar Stage
Nearly three decades after his deportation, Mataz has returned to South African airwaves, this time through the South African Broadcasting Corporation’s international platform, Channel Africa. The significance of this moment cannot be overstated.
Channel Africa broadcasts to dozens of countries across the continent and beyond, positioning Mataz not just as a national figure, but as a pan-African voice. The same country that once expelled him has now reintroduced him to a global audience.
What made this return possible?
Time, first and foremost. Immigration violations, unlike certain criminal convictions, do not necessarily impose permanent exclusion. Over the years, whatever legal barriers existed appear to have been resolved or expired.
There is also the matter of legacy. Mataz remains a recognizable name, particularly among those who remember the vibrancy of 1990s South African media. In an era where nostalgia carries cultural currency, his return taps into a powerful sense of continuity.
Finally, there is the broader shift toward pan-African media integration. Channel Africa’s mandate aligns with cross-border identities and stories, making Mataz—Zimbabwean-born, South African-made—an ideal fit for a platform that transcends national boundaries.
Identity, Heritage, and Persona
Beyond the public narrative of success and scandal lies a deeper layer of identity. Mataz’s connection to the Harare Mbari clan royal ineage the Shumba Gurundoro (lion) totem evoke a cultural framework in which leadership, charisma, and resilience are not merely personal traits but inherited qualities. On the airwaves Mataz roars like the Shumba Gurundoro he is, no one can dim his light.
Whether viewed symbolically or literally, this heritage adds dimension to his story. His confidence, his appetite for risk, and his ability to command attention can be read not only as products of ambition, but as expressions of a deeper cultural inheritance. In this sense, his life mirrors a traditional epic: ascent, exile, trial, and return.
Reframing the Narrative
Stripped of myth, the story of Tich Mataz is neither one of political persecution nor simple downfall. It is a more nuanced narrative about ambition colliding with regulation, about visibility amplifying consequence, and about the long arc of reputation.
He was not banned by a president. He was deported for immigration violations.
Yet the distinction, while important, does not diminish the scale of what followed. The legend grew precisely because the man at its center had already become larger than life.
A Legacy Still in Motion
Today, Mataz’s return invites a reassessment.
He is no longer the untouchable golden boy of the 1990s, nor merely the controversial figure of his years in exile. He is something more complex: a survivor of his own excesses, a product of multiple media eras, and a symbol of both the possibilities and pitfalls of rapid success.
His story continues to evolve.
And perhaps that is the most fitting conclusion for a man once called “The Midas Touch”—not that everything he touched turned to gold, but that even after losing it all, he has found a way to remain in the conversation.
In the end, the real story of Tich Mataz is not about the height of his rise or the depth of his fall. It is about the rare and difficult art of return.
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