For a first time visitor, the direction given by estate security to Festus Mogae’s residence sounds easy enough to follow.
After driving through the main entrance, and just beyond the elegant clubhouse, there is a lone security guard manning another checkpoint. He is the gatekeeper to the residential part of the Golf Estate. It turns out things are not so easy. More enquiries have to be made and the guard gives directions to the abode of the former president.
Driving, on I miss a turn and have to ask some construction workers ending their shift where exactly the former big man stays. I am getting anxious. My appointment is for 1700 hours. If I miss another turn, I won’t make it on time. With a nonchalance that suggests they are accustomed to visitors getting lost, the workers point me in the right direction. The Golf Estate, the most exclusive part of Phakalane, is still work in progress. On the way to the Mogae home are many properties at various stages of completion. It is not too difficult to know who owns what. Outside every structure under construction is a sign board with the name of the owner. This is a cute little touch that tickles the Joneses to wonder how much their neighbours are worth. After all, this is the mink and manure belt.
Established some two decades ago by David Magang, a former minister and now famous, or infamous author (depending on your take on the epic and scholarly work of his life), the private housing estate is the address of choice for those who have made it. The Golf Estate is, however, a world removed from the rest. This exclusive precinct oozes the discreet opulence of serious money. As for the aspirant upwardly mobile, they are scattered in the more modest parts of Phakalane. Waiting at the black wrought iron gates to be let in, I have to admit the retirement home is not as big as was made out to be by the tabloids. Driving through, I have seen bigger and more ostentatious mansions than this one. Pastel coloured, it is set against a cobbled parking area and an expanse of lawn.
Just next to the wrought iron gates is a smaller structure adjoined to what appears to be the security bay. This is the former president’s office. There are no armed men around. Just a government security guard in his grey uniform to open the gate. As I find some parking space in the visitors’ area, I notice a vehicle with diplomatic plates, flying the Nigerian flag. An aide ushers me to the waiting room. Lounging outside is a posse of men, looking listless from the scorching summer heat, just receding. I assume they are the household staff. The waiting room is somewhat cluttered. Clearly, moving in is taking time. I detect tell tale signs of roots not yet embedded. Some painted portraits are still leaning against the wall. They are yet to be mounted. Two matronly helpers are in the kitchenette and to their offer of refreshments, I opt for a bottle of mineral water.
The aide who escorted me from the parking lot informs me the former president is still in a meeting with some visitors. I relax and flick through some publications. After about half an hour, the door to what I presume is the office opens and the former president walks out with two men, one in flowing West African robes and the other in a sombre suit. With them is the private secretary. I spring to my feet, and catching sight of me, the former president strides in my direction and extends his hand in greeting. He informs me he is just seeing off his guests. In a blink he is back and ushers me into his sanctum.
A medium sized study, it boasts all the modern fittings, including a blank television screen mounted on the wall. There is a large shelf lined with lots of books. Books. On the walls and the ornate desk are framed photographs, honours and other treasured mementos collected during his years as the country’s first citizen.
Festus Mogae looks somewhat drained by the punishing heat and what he would reveal has been a hectic schedule of appointments. But otherwise his skin glows and he appears in fine health. Gone is the old school pushed back hair style. He now sports a clean shaven head that gives him a dashing, much younger look. The ex head honcho looks happy and contented. Dressed to the nines in a dark blue pinstripe suit, white shirt and polka tie we engage in conversation. It’s just the two of us. No aides hovering around.
I am here on a courtesy call because we have not met since his former life as president. I am also here to convey my gratitude to him for aiding my special nomination to parliament after the 2004 general elections. Having worked at the party office for around eight years, the time to move on had come. Burn-out was setting in and the stressful pantomime of maintaining a delicate balance between the various interests and personalities in the party had taken its toll on me. For a career politician, the legislature was the logical next station. Having been in parliament for four years now, and with my term drawing to a close, I feel it is only proper to thank the former president in person. Without any certainty that I would make it back after the 2009 polls, due acknowledgment and credit have to be conveyed to the man who bestowed honour on me. In a couple of months it could be all over.
After humbly accepting my expression of appreciation, the former president strikes a lighter tone and asks if I am not married yet. This is always a tricky question and, in response, I incoherently mumble what I consider a diplomatic answer.
Ever the raconteur, he tells me his has been a busy life since retirement. For instance, he has just been appointed the UN Special Envoy on Climate Change. The assignment involves a lot of travelling. An initiative of his own is the recent establishment of a club of ex-heads of state to address the HIV/AIDS with a special emphasis on reducing new infections. Donor agencies have already provided funding to establish a secretariat in Gaborone.
Over and above these international assignments, he is still patron of many local organisations. Without complaining, he indicated that some of them expected him to solicit funding for their projects. As an ordinary citizen it is not as easy as was the case when he was president. He also reveals he presents lectures mainly on the American circuit on various topics.
Thinking silently, I hope his overseas audiences have been treated to his profound treatise titled The Role of Natural Resources in Botswana’s Socio Economic Development, presented at the University of Botswana on 4 September 2007. To my curious question if he is paid for sharing his insight and vast knowledge, his answer is in the negative. The hosts merely take care of travel, board and lodge. This, despite the fact that he appears on the same podiums as other star attractions like Bill Clinton who are compensated handsomely for their appearances.
That said, the former president does not seem to mind because in his words, he sees what he does as national duty. We chat about the party and other political developments in the sub region. As always, his take on the issues is lucid and anchored on intellectual rigour. On being probed if retirement should not mean more rest, he counters that he is in the process of developing a disused farm, previously owned by the state. A pressing need is to gather all the gifts given to him by the nation during his farewell tour. He was given 138 assorted cattle, 110 goats, twenty five sheep, seven horses, six ostriches, one dog, two donkeys, two pigs, two bucks, ten chickens and one cock.
Brother Leader weighed in with five camels of the finest Libyan pedigree. As we chew the fat, I conclude that though out of office, the former president is not in retirement. He further reveals that he is involved in other projects. In this regard he might be taking up the chair of a major citizen company.
Dusk is upon us. Members of staff have gone home. Being the gracious host, he betrays no impatience for me to leave. Instead, I venture that he had a long day and I must be on my way. We step out of his office, and in the waiting room I retrieve my bottle of water. He walks me all the way to the parking lot.
Somewhat apologetically he suggests we meet again in future when we can have more time to talk leisurely about other matters. We shake hands and part. The courtesy call is over.
Now some two weeks later, I wonder if at the time of our meeting, Kofi Annan had already intimated to Festus Mogae that he was winner of the second Mo Ibrahim Prize for Excellence in Leadership and Good Governance. If not, was my visit just the lucky catalyst that bagged him the prize? On both counts, I can only wonder because following his approximately P40 million windfall, all roads will be leading to the pastel residence. It will now be fashionable to visit the former president.
