Patrick Dibere Molutsi is your typical African village boy, who used to herd cattle, enjoy goat milk, collect berries out in the forest ÔÇô and steal hard lumps of deep-brown sugar, whenever the poverty-stricken family afforded some.
Born in the Barolong farms, now referred to as Goodhope Sub-district, the family like many others in the area were settlers from across the border, fleeing Mzilikazi wars. Originally Mmolutsi (one who sets cattle out of the kraal each morning) as a clan, is from Dinokaneng and their totem is baboon for they are called Bahurutshe as an ethnic group. So vivid are the memories of his grandparents, who used to take back their harvests to Lehurutshe in the present-day North West Province. At the close of the 18th century, some settled around Mafikeng and eventually crossed into Botswana.
“I come from a very big family. I am fond of describing myself as a child of poverty ÔÇô not because we didn’t have cattle, but because they kept dying of many reasons, including spells of drought. That whole area is never good for grazing,” Dr Molutsi began, as he settled into his seat.
The interview was not the usual corporate stuff ÔÇô so he could afford to sprawl on the couch in his office, after all it was late evening and he did not need to watch over his shoulder for anyone keeping tabs on his office decorum.
“Please relax ÔÇô just be a human being, not a CEO, for once,” his interviewer urged him.
He twiddled his fingers before revisiting the plot of his childhood story.
“Where was I by the way?” Suddenly, he remembered the drought that perished with the family livestock.
“Yes ÔÇô so as a result, we grew up poor, plus the number of children made it worse. I am the sixth child of a total of twelve. Being the middle child and youngest of the boys somehow made me the favourite of my dad ÔÇô may his soul forever rest in eternal peace! Out of all the sons, I was the only one who went to school up to this level of education. Father decided I must attend school and attain the highest qualification a boy from my background could ever aim for ÔÇô it was called matric,” he explained, his face lighting up with radiance.
Molutsi senior served in the World War II. Like many children who never grasp the teachings of their parents until much later in life, he could not fathom why he was singled out to receive formal education. Particularly, it was incomprehensible that his parents, who dearly loved all their children, could only care to secure his future above the rest.
“They raised us with the strict code of unity and emphasis on family as that single unit that must not be penetrated by winds from outside. They used the famous Christian story of a man giving his children a stick to each one to break and then putting them together and passing the bundle to each and they failed the task,” Molutsi explained with a big sense of nostalgia for childhood days.
He described his father as a man endowed with talents and skills and a fast learner, a trait he admits unfortunately, he did not reap as much from those genes because he takes a bit of time to learn, but once it has stuck, he won’t forget it.
“My father was illiterate before he was drafted as a warrior, but upon return, he was highly skilled and literate. When he got back from the war, the reward for those like him under the colonial administration was job placement and he became a herd boy ÔÇô looking after government livestock in the Ramatlabama camp. My father would insist that I stayed with him at his post, away from Papatlo, where the family continued to live. God’s ways are amazing, in 1970, I excelled my primary school examinations by obtaining A grade,” Molutsi said, laughing nonchalantly at the feat by a village boy with a harsh background.
He chased after his father’s dream for him about matric ÔÇô attending Moeding College in Otse ÔÇô a version of the London Missionary Society-run school located in Vryburg, South Africa called Tiger Kloof, where the luminaries of the early post-independence Botswana in their majority went. They include the founding President Sir Seretse Khama, the opposition party politician and founder of the Botswana Independence Party, the late Motsamai Mpho, founding Cabinet Minister Dr Gaositwe Chiepe, Sir Ketumile Masire and founding Cabinet Minister Archibald Mogwe, among others.
“It was certainly one of the leading missionary schools in the country with high scholastic achievement rates. Put simply, it was a liberal centre of learning,” he said, again he laughed out his lungs before picking up the narrative.
“A lot of people don’t understand why I never sleep when my mother is ill ÔÇô I would even drive from here at night because she fought hard to sell a beast to make sure I attended school,” he reminisced.
In a materialistic world, where children from a tender age are taught to rely heavily on the axiom ÔÇô scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours Molutsi has a clear conscience he has never had to beg for favours from anyone. People have become devoid of moral soundness to help fellow human beings without expecting a reward ÔÇô so much it is rampant among today’s youth that have coined phrases such as ‘Njese sengwe.’
Dr Molutsi remembers the old good days, growing up under harsh economic times, when his family did not have the means to sustain itself, if the rest of the community was not there to stand in the gap. His eyes welled up in tears that he bolted during the confession, remembering his primary school teacher ÔÇô Mrs Lorato Oremeng, whose health has deteriorated over the year due to old age.
“Even her children have accepted my being their sibling because she was my teacher, mentor and mother-figure. I owe Mrs Lorato Oremeng credit for what I am. From time to time, I do what I can to help the family with her health and medical expenses, and they know my door is open anytime to seek my help ÔÇô not because they are needy; they are much more successful in their own ways,” he described the affinity they share.
When his mother sold the beast she could afford in order to send her son to school, it would not be enough, firstly because it was not the size that could attract a fair amount of money, so she had to exchange it for a bigger one. As is appallingly common to derive pleasure in the downfall of others ÔÇô the Papatlo community was no exception, and sooner than later, they were a laughing stock because of their strides to graduate from poverty through sending a child to school.
Mrs Oremeng obviously stood out among the crop of teachers that Molutsi blossomed under.
“Mrs Oremeng went to further her teaching qualifications in the United Kingdom and used to send her students well-wishes’ postcards. After I passed my primary exam, she did not wait to be told of my need ÔÇô she organized a bursary to complement the fees my mother got from selling the cow. That bursary would carry me only up to form three and another plan had to be devised,” he described the circumstances.
He repeated his streak of obtaining A stars, but was faced with the prospect of not proceeding to form four and ultimately matric. Then, what seemed a golden opportunity presented itself just in time of need. There was shortage of teachers in Botswana so in 1973, Molutsi was offered a primary school principal post, where he could earn a salary under the district council at a whopping R28 a month.
“Let me categorically state that I did not apply for this position. It was only based on the recommendation from various leaders, who believed I had what it took to do the job. My mother pressed for work to support the larger family; remember being number six meant that I had six younger siblings and that was my social responsibility. But dad on the other hand pressed hard for completion of matric. So talk of a dilemma, I had one,” he said and spread his arms in surrender.
He reapplied for bursary and it was continued. Molutsi went on to finish his matric qualification by obtaining grade B in form five. Because of exceptional performance in Biology, he gazed on agricultural field as his number one passion.
As Molutsi zips his packed bags next week, few employees who worked under him are without a shadow to run to when the scorching heat arrives, or the gusty winds blow from all directions. At the helm of TEC and HRDC, Molutsi was not a typical corporate leader ÔÇô something that irked some of us ÔÇô instead, he led with an awareness of firstly becoming a father, mentor and coach and employer last.
“One lesson I got from the people who shaped my early life is that ÔÇô they went out of the way to help needy children, especially if there was brightness in the child. They would not stall progress simply on the basis of one lacking material resources. That has stayed with me the rest of my life. This is why I treated employees under my watch the way I did because I believe everyone has capability ÔÇô just help them to realize it. With women, the challenges are even multiplied. I believe I am here to mentor and encourage people to be their best. I looked at other organisations and compared with what we were doing for our employees. WUC employees get water tariffs reduced, so are BPC employees on consumption of electricity, while BHC employees get subsidized housing and Bank of Botswana offers lowest interest rates to retain their staff. I proposed to Management and Board to offer the only service to our employees ÔÇô that is Education. That was the only gift I could give them. Hence we gave ample chances to advance themselves from the lowliest entry employee to complete standard seven to those who as we speak, have PhD after their names,” he shared his delight.
Dr Molutsi explained that life’s philosophy should be to remember those that assisted you so that you can continue their legacy of doing humanitarian deeds. He fondly remembers how Professor Thomas Tlou ÔÇô a generous man of unmatched gifts, mentored and guided him during the early days of TEC as its founding Board Chairperson.
If you’ve only known Dr Molutsi from the panel discussions on a given topic, the chances are you’ve been mesmerized by the in-depth insight and his articulation on issues. He is a formidable institution in his own right ÔÇô one among few citizens to have spent six years and still bowed out with blazing glory from the world’s top most of Ivy-league universities: Oxford in England.
An accomplished scholar, many don’t know that he dodged school after his matric to eke a living at deep-level mines in Roodepoort. Back then, his alma mater had an arrangement with the Native Recruiting Corporation (NRC) to select brilliant boys after matric to be enlisted as ‘mine engineers’.
“After matric, I returned home to participate in the ploughing activities. After the rains and in the New Year, when others returned to school, I had nothing to look forward to. We heard that the mines paid better wages ÔÇô because the people returning from there also looked prosperous, so I grew impatient. I did not wait for the NRC to come for me. I took up a six-month contract (lekonteraka) together with my elder brother by travelling on the night train to Roodeport. I only spent three of the six months underground working the two o’clock shift. Because I was literate, I was givenmakalanyane or kolofana, which is a locomotive operated on a battery,” Dr Molutsi began his underground mine story.
The procedure was to train new recruits in the vernacular used underground, but unlike his elder brother and many who were not literate, he did not attend the mine school to learn fanakaloo ÔÇô a concoction of languages from southern Africa region.
“Instead, I was taught in English. Part of the training is running up and down the stairs to test durability of the individual to be working underground for those long hours. Others did suffocate. It is very hot down there so much that all the time, air is pumped into the pit to cool off things,” he explained.
He was a teenager and stubborn to instruction and as a result, he received flak and other forms of abuse from his peers and the white Afrikaner bosses. His job entailed collecting ore from different stations and delivering it onto a truck that would then ascend from the belly of the earth. He liked to press the pedal too much, while underground due to the darkness and meandering routes, vehicles travel at slow speed to avoid safety breaches that could lead to accidents and loss of lives.
“Almost each morning, I appeared before the captain for defying safety rules and posing danger to the other miners. But it was not always about my driving. Sometimes rocks fell down and miners would be trapped there, and you were ordered to go and attend to them. I used my common sense ÔÇô it was not worth to have more than one life lost, so I refused. The bonus was productivity-based so we were pushed harshly, so I used to chase after the captain with a hammer in protest. It was unheard of ÔÇô and they would say, lo Motswana lo ena fundile (an educated Motswana). They could not understand my resistance. Over time, they came to respect me for my defiance against stupid orders, even baas boys from Botswana. That was education at another level,” he explained with glee.
But back home, his mother was not happy that he went unceremoniously to join others, who failed at school or never did reach form five as he. Hence Mrs Oremeng colluded with his mother to cancel the prospect that remained in the NRC drafting. He left Roodepoort exactly two weeks before the Soweto uprising of 1976. The motherly-teacher liaison had clinched a bursary scholarship for him to read for a degree in agriculture as he envisioned, but because he delayed, upon arrival, that opportunity had been passed on to someone else.
“I was then offered to study for BA humanities to become a teacher. I did double major in history and sociology at the then University of Botswana and Swaziland. When I completed my degree, I had three job offers from the Sociology Department, the National Institute for Research and Department of History, all within the UBS. As a Staff Development Fellow, I was one of the four sent under the United Nations’ sponsorship to Ghana for what turned out to be a post-graduate diploma, not a Master’s degree,” he said, laughing at how the system at the time, duped them.
Molutsi suffered a tragic setback just as he was wrapping up his studies to return home. His father died of cancer. The year-long stay turned sour especially when he had been sending money home from his salary to aid in the medicals of his father. By the time he got wind of the news, his father was buried so he missed the burial. It was during the Ghana experience that he applied to Oxford University and was admitted. Returning home in late July to a grieving family, he had other deadlines he could not negotiate.
“My father-in-law was a strict disciplinarian, and since prior to my Ghana gap, his daughter was pregnant with our firstborn (Karabo), it was clear we had to marry. In September 1981, we got married and the second leg of the celebrations the following weekend was actually my departure for England. I had to ask my uncle to take over and complete the celebrations as the groom. Can you imagine the youth of today doing so without some mischief?” he asked rhetorically.
Although he did not bury his father, Molutsi has no regrets because he did what a good and dependable son could during those circumstances, by providing for the family and in particular, his father to get the best medical treatment.
“I was fulfilled because at last, I had achieved his desire for matric qualification,” he stated, matter of fact.
The conduct of Dr Molutsi’s life in general is reminiscent of a believer in a supreme deity. His patience to stay calm in the midst of a storm have left those close to him wondering why does he not rush to take destiny into his hands. For the most part, as the last man standing in the world of dog-eat-dog that is called corporate, industry captains are feared and subordinates know when not to cross the line. It is that simple ÔÇô you don’t toe the line, you are fired ÔÇô mean, but the reality.
But those who’ve interacted with him at work would attest to the truth that he has allowed a ‘marketplace of ideas’ to flourish and never held grudges against those who disagreed with him over principle. Obviously, that is how intellectuals are trained to approach disagreements, but some still wilt under those situations where they feel their authority is being undermined.
“Look here, Enole ÔÇô all things come together because a superior being exists. I am a devout Catholic. My primary school was catholic in the mid-1960s, and I’ve explained that I originate from a poverty-stricken background, we knew what hungry meant as the village boys and girls. The Catholic church brought food rations every so often in the week to feed those, who subscribed to the faith heritage. Here I was, seeing people getting sacks of food and milk, and one day I told my mother that I was joining the fold. That was the childish way of appreciating life from that vantage point, at least,” he explained, poignantly.
Later, he would enjoy his walk with the creator as a Catholic, mainly enriched by the two extreme poles that continue to exist within the communion of more than two billion members the world over. Those are the liberal on the left and conservative on the right in as far as the moral compass the church must take on key topics covering: abortion, same-sex relationships, euthanasia and others highly contested from moral, religious, legal and scientific conundrums.
“I appreciated the liturgy and practice of the Catholic body with those extremes, and I think that for me is what makes my church interesting. It is both liberal and conservative. I like both angles. For many reasons, I gravitate towards liberal stance primarily because I believe God demonstrated for us how we must understand him in the ‘Fall of Man’ story. As the creator ÔÇô he shows the choice that as people, we are free to decide our destiny. We can choose to come closer to him or run away like Adam did. Hence in our tradition, we believe in the sacrament of reconciliation ÔÇô it is not encouraging repeated follies, but through it, we recognize the truth that we need to have a way of reconciling ourselves to God. Again in the New Testament, we see Peter denying Jesus at the greatest hour of need, yet he is the rock of Christ’s church, once he has ascended into heaven. I am deeply engaged in the practice of Catholicism,” he elaborated.
He approaches the conservative stance on issues with a bit of caution and his academic intuition naturally kicks in so as to appeal to the power of reason to agree or disagree with the position being espoused.
“By that I don’t mean to be misunderstood that I always disagree with the conservative stance on every issue. No, God gave us the wisdom to discover things, and through that, he reveals himself to mankind. But we must not be misled to disregard those incredible elements found in our culture, identity and tradition as a human species to think that we killed the creator. If any liberal were to advance such a line of thought, I would stand on the opposite aisle. A human being, who has no identity is concocted and disorientated,” he expounded.
Molutsi, a father of seven children will be exiting HRDC doors on the 31 May 2016 after an illustrious career spanning four decades: underground miner, teacher, scholar, manager and chief executive ÔÇô serving his country and the international community with pride and humility. Between 1999 and 2003, he was posted to Sweden at the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance (IDEA) as part of the leadership and management team. From Sweden, he was recruited to launch the then Tertiary Education Council (TEC), which preceded the birth of the Human Resource Development Council in 2013 that he himself established and leaves behind as a formidable organisation. He and first wife were involved in a tragic automobile accident that perished with her life. He remarried Gaboinewe Aletta and together, they raised the children with a moral compass deeply rooted in the Catholic practices that encourage good behaviours.
Like all human species with imperfections, Molutsi volunteers one about himself and another told over and over by his wife.
“I think even here at work, some of the brushes I’ve had with my staff, and I can admit without reservations, is that I leave people behind and expect them to catch up with me rather too quickly. I can return to correct what I ought to have done before taking a decision and by that time, no one is ready to listen to me. This, I hold to be my weakness. Another weakness I’ve come to hear many times from my wife is that I tend to be generous so much that I don’t allow individuals to blossom and discover life on their own because I provide for their needs,” he confessed.
He is grateful that in the two marriages, he has been blessed to meet industrious wives, who are the doers, while he is the think-tank.
“I need an implementer, because I am an innovator ÔÇô my wives have been the implementers. My first wife ran a general dealer and a grain-mill in Papatlo, while the current one runs Sebothe Motel in Metlojane offering accommodation to travellers along the Trans-Kalahari Highway connecting South Africa, Botswana and Namibia,” he explained.
Because he is perpetually generating ideas that hardly translate into tangible projects unless he found someone to put them to use, this piece of land where the motel also has what could be viable robust income-generating projects which are his brainchild: a vegetable garden, cattle, goats and chickens.
“Simply because my wife is not interested in any venture but hospitality, these projects have continued to suffer ÔÇô of course my work also did not allow for any nurturing of them. So on the entrepreneurship side of things, I can’t be as proud as I would like,” he chuckled as we both rose from our seats.
