My 10 years of full-time practice in the trenches gathering news never accorded me a moment with Sir Ketumile Masire, mainly because I loathed political reporting. But later as a writer of literary forms and minister of the scripture, my person-to-person encounters would each have some enchanting glee that will stick with me for a lifetime.
I had entered the 2008 British Council and Books Botswana writers’ competition in the non-fiction category with my memoir titled My White Grandpa, which should have formed a part of the anthology, alongside promising narratives. But the panel members that juried the entries, including The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series author, Professor Alexander McCall Smith, consensually agreed mine deserved to be stand-alone. At a glamorous evening launch at the University of Botswana, the publishers had invited Sir Ketumile solely to award me the best prize as a memoirist himself. Often, people wait until in their 60s and older to piece together life stories into memoirs or autobiographical accounts, so it was a departure especially in Botswana, that I released mine at age 35!
“Monna Ditsheko, I look forward to reading another memoir by you before I die,” he said handing me the glass-framed prize. He laughed out nonchalantly and it enveloped the arena.
I did not make a commitment to the challenge presented before me. Silently, I knew there was yet another assignment to undertake before I was a spent force. As we licked our fingers that evening, Sir Ketumile intermingled with the ordinary people. He took a keen interest in the rural women who graced the event and lo and behold, they were my mother and grandmother. My grandmother is three years the statesman’s senior, so they had a lot to talk about. One of the statements I eavesdropped on was the assurance he gave my family.
“I’ve read your son’s story. It is filled with wisdom. He has wisdom learnt from the elderly people. You must be commended for doing an excellent job, women from Maun…” he got interrupted.
“Enole has made us proud. Where would we have gotten the chance to see, shake your hand and speak with you? We see you on television…” my grandmother was still describing when Sir Ketumile’s signature laughter came through. Again, there was momentary silence in the arena as heads faced our direction.
Eight years later and keeping tabs on the deteriorating state of health of the statesman, I sought an appointment with him. His private secretary, Fraser Tlhoiwe secured one and the wintry morning of May 2016, I pulled into the compound of a bungalow. The officer dressed in navy-blue pants and sky-blue golf t-shirt would not have raised any fears if it were not his turning around that I saw a pistol attached to the hip and upon close examination, by the shoulder an embroidery in yellow ÔÇô ÔÇ╣DISÔÇ║. My heartbeat quadrupled. While DIS featured in the news prominently, I had not met any person who identified himself as one, save for the newsmaker that most know from the front pages of the newspapers. A part of me wanted to make a U-turn. DIS for me is synonymous with FEAR! I parked and opened the boot from where my laptop was kept to make sure I did not miss any details of the story Rra Gaone as affectionately known to the nation, would share. Rre Tlhoiwe beckoned me in and assured the DIS officer that I had the 10 a.m. slot.
I was directed to the dining room, where a helper served me tea to bid time because there was a television crew from an independent channel that had an ongoing appointment and the conversation was not coming to a close. I could hear giggles and chuckles of the old man in between their chats. At last, the crew made up of two ladies and a gentleman emerged and I was invited to join the eminent statesman. Sprawling on the cream-white two-seater sofa, I cut to the chase, lest we ran into another appointment he had for noon. The sharpness with which he recalled events dating back to when they were transforming Botswana from an agrarian society into what we see now, has been a marvel, considering his 90+ years of life.
ED: You looked 30 years into and beyond your presidency by crafting the seven pillars of the National Vision. What was your inspiration back in 1986? Were you hoping to be around to witness the 50th celebrations of Botswana?
QKJ: Nature does allow us to move forward or slip backwards and it is upon us to do right to make sure we don’t regress. ‘Live and let live’ should be the motivation for each leader. Present generations must learn to do something and let others carry it forward, instead of holding themselves as indispensable. What worries me and deeply is that now ÔÇô people think we have reached the zenith or plateau after 50 years of self-governance, and we must go for a picnic. That is a sorry state of affairs. I like the story about a butcher in London, who mistakenly locked up his son in the (fridge) cold room. In order to see the next day, the son quickly figured out that he needed to jog or he would be frozen. So he jogged the whole night and fortunately when his father opened the (fridge) the next morning ÔÇô there he was. Life is like that; we need to keep jogging and to know that there is a prize we must clinch ÔÇô we don’t need to live on what is there and finish it, rather; we use what was done for us by past generations as provision for the journey ahead. Ke mofago mo loetong — we are pursuing a journey, where the goal is far and long to reach and our success is only to have a milestone. But it is not the end of the journey, when we attain the milestone ÔÇô we must keep rising up. Our country has reached the middle-income status because there were builders who soiled their hands. The strong leadership was there to guide the followers and in a humane way that they understood where they were being taken to and it was easy for them to follow. But is that the end? Certainly, no ÔÇô the journey continues and if we stop, we slip down. It was only but last year when Nigeria was declared the biggest economy in Africa, and only this year we are told the economy is in trouble. South Africa was thriving as a powerhouse in our region, and it took Jacob Zuma to do one thing and the economy fell on its knees. We need to drum up these important lessons in our current leaders’ heads, lest we become ‘just another African state’. The leadership must not squander the goodwill of the people and expect to flourish ÔÇô that is suicidal and a total loss of foresight on anyone who wants to be counted as a leader. When the country is destroyed under your watch ÔÇô you ought to be something other than a civil human being to take pride in that destruction. Leaders are not feared, but honoured and respected,” he elaborated.
A month later, the Gaborone Ministers’ Fraternal assigned me to preach at the President’s Day combined church service at the Boipuso Hall an event that is instantaneously televised and broadcast over the state-run enterprises of Btv and Radio Botswana 1. I carefully reflected on the conversation I had with Rra Gaone and pulled one among several anecdotes he shared in those two hours. No scripture could fit better than Proverbs 29:18 with regards the direction Botswana must take and maintain into the future. It reads thus; “Where there is a Vision, people flourish, but where there’s no vision, people perish.”
I imported the metaphor of the journey to define life and paid tribute to the past presidents who led with magnanimity so much as the citizens, we benefited from the goodwill Botswana received from the international community. A personal experience was when I was allowed into the United States without my visa in 1994 simply because the immigration official at the New York port of entry saw I carried the Botswana passport. The visa followed me weeks later to Nebraska. I paid tribute to the nobility of Sir Seretse Khama and Sir Ketumile Masire as constitutionalists, who turned Botswana into a respected democracy that I benefited from as its citizen. The packed Boipuso Hall gave Sir Ketumile a standing ovation as he sat up front, evidently mesmerised at the accuracy of the anecdote and its importation in the sermon.
As the day’s preacher, I was fed alongside Sir Ketumile and the Ambassador of the United States Earl Miller. Sir Ketumile beckoned Rre Tlhoiwe to call me to sit next to him. He whispered into my ear in the way anyone in our circle heard was meant to be for my ears.
“Moruti, if this sermon came twenty years ago, I would ask my minister at LMS to release me. Alas, I am too old to be converted and change memberrship,” he said amid chuckles.
“I am most honoured, my President,” I accepted the commendation, laughing heartily.
“That was the kind of preaching the nation deserves right now, won’t you say, Mr Ambassador?” Sir Ketumile asked, almost rhetorically.
“It was powerful and relevant. Thank you Reverend. So you entered the United States without the visa? I would have said you were not telling the truth if I didnÔÇ║t know better,” Ambassador Miller responded.
“Oh yes, that was Botswana then, well respected,” I assured the Ambassador.
Who knows? One hopes it won’t be too long before the second instalment of my memoir gets published and that it will have riveting chapters of our encounters. God is pleased in the death of a saint and Sir Ketumile, mmina Phiri, you did yours with diligence to its completion, what is left is for you to rest peacefully in the bosom of your forebears. I am sure your personal friend, Sir Seretse as well as patriotic sons and daughters of this land including Dr Kgalemang Tumediso Motsete of Fatshe leno la Rona, Dr Kenneth Goabamang Shololo Koma of the Puo-phaa, Mr Motsamai Kejetswe Mpho of Kgomo e tshwaana, Dr Phillip aka ‘Uncle Phil’ Matante of the BPP and Rre Goareng Mosinyi of the Domkgrag, not forgetting Mme Keotshabile Disele among pioneers of Botswana’s democracy ÔÇô all have their arms wide open to welcome you. My grandmother insists that ‘the dead see everything’. Hey, QKJ ÔÇô before I forget, I can imagine the joy you and Sir G are sharing right now and the news you have delivered to him from the recent times since he journeyed that part of the universe. Both of you are laughter-frenzy. Thank you through Dikarabo Ramadubu for having spoken your last wise words to the nation with respect to the use of the electronic voting machines in 2019. The powers that be, heard you loud and clear!
