The hardest tribute one can think of is to write a eulogy. Particularly difficult for me to write about the Rt. Rev. Modisaotsile Mothibi is that I carried him heavily in my spirit on the 31st December 2022 to the point of torment that I could not resist placing a call to him at midnight, much to the chagrin of my wife who guessed wrong that he was fast asleep.
“Hello ngwanaka,” he answered.
“Hello, Ntate. Ngwaga o mosha,” I replied.
“Ruri o motho wa ntlha a nkeleletsa katlego mo ngwageng o,” he explained with a giggle.
“I have been heavily laden the whole day about you. I felt I should be the first to check on you in the New Year,” I stated.
“Ke go eleletsa masego otlhe a Jehofa a ka a neelang motho mo selemong se, ngwanaka” he chuckled.
“I receive the outpouring of blessings. I wish an abundance of health and strength on you in 2023,” I said.
We then talked about the Organization of African Instituted Churches (OAIC) which he started alongside other stalwarts in the mould of his senior, Bishop Baathodi Monyatsi, his subordinate Bishop Otsile Osimilwe Ditsheko, Bishop Madimabe Mmolotsi from St. Faith Holy Church, Archbishop Norman Musonda of Head Mountain of God Apostolic Church in Zion, Archbishop Andrew Bontlebokae Ndubano of St. John’s Apostolic Faith Mission of Botswana, Archbishop Israel Motswasele from Spiritual Healing Church to name but few of the founding members in 1985. Besides Archbishop Musonda, a nonagenarian, all these pioneers have long gone, and Bishop Mothibi lived to the age of 90 before he was called back to his creator on Tuesday the 3rd January morning.
The Marobela-born was a scribe par excellence and no one has beaten his longest record as the general secretary of the executive committee in the Eleven Apostles Healing Spirit Church, and none in the future will be able to achieve this feat of 28 years of uninterrupted service in the same role. It is vivid in my memory that many years ago, he told a packed gathering during Good Friday-Easter weekend at the headquarters in Maun about the strategic role of this office. Because members of the committee were scattered all over Botswana, and often unable to form a quorum, they had an understanding that as the scribe, he should falsify on the annual returns that there had been meetings to enable him to meet the requirement of filing the annual returns with the registrar.
“For many years, I saved this church from being struck off. I don’t know if this is sinful to deny me to enter paradise when I leave this earth. If doing this was sinning against my creator, I ask for forgiveness now and publicly because I did that to save his Kingdom from being cancelled by worldly powers. The church belongs to God and not officers,” the soft-spoken cleric declared much to the amusement of many and murmurs of protest among us the hardliners to the constitution.
When the news about his passing reached me three days after we had poured blessings upon each other to last us the rest of the year, I was bewildered. So, these were our goodbyes, I consoled myself. Bishop Mothibi had a special kinship with my family far greater than we were bonded by the church we attended until 13 years ago when I became the head of New Temple of the New Jerusalem. My mother travelled the five-hour stretch to join the mourners at the funeral.
Legend has it that when Bishop Mothibi, then a newly ordained priest by the laying on of hands by the Prophet Joseph Lesomo Moswela at the Paseka of 1972, commissioned to head northbound to an unknown settlement of Kachikau, the only ties to that place were through my uncle who was his right-hand man. Bishop Ditsheko, a then police officer stationed at Tsau sent word with Bishop Mothibi to present his credentials upon arrival at the Kachikau kgotla that he was his elder brother sent to spread the gospel. The missionary was embraced because reverends were revered for carrying themselves in dignified mannerisms.
As a result, my mother gave up her hut for almost a year that Bishop Mothibi spent witnessing the gospel of Christ in the village. What I bear truth to is that he and my mother had never agreed on one thing–who was older? Because my mother welcomed Bishop Mothibi as a close confidante of my uncle who was four years her junior, she treated Bishop Mothibi as her younger brother to the day he departed this earth, whereas she is much younger than he was.
I interviewed Bishop Mothibi late last year and the piece ran in the edition of 13th November in the Sunday Standard because I was persuaded by the truth that the current crop of leaders had veered off the runway of the OAIC flight and needed to be reminded about its core values. It was a privilege to let the trailblazer reminisce about the humble beginnings of an intercontinental ecumenical body. What remains is whether we have stored the lessons he shared in our hearts.
Fare thee well, Ntate; the good seed you planted has sprouted all over and your footprint is visible across the sands of the desert country of the Batswana. Until the glorious morning, rest in power!
(The author is Head of New Temple of the New Jerusalem, an associate member in good standing of the OAIC Botswana Chapter)
