Khama and Mugabe: Two sides on different coins

I have been dreading this day and it has finally arrived! To say that it been a long time since I last wrote a column is an understatement. So much good and bad has happened and the Editor is yet to forgive me for the disappearing act. But to be quite honest, living in Zimbabwe was no longer funny. I would personally look forward to a trip to hell if there ever was one. I remember vowing to be the last person to leave, holding the keys to lock up the country after every one had gone.

Today I find myself in a foreign country, Botswana to be exact, licking my deflated ego. How I got here is a very long story which you will pick up bits of with time. In a nutshell, I ended up airlifting my family out of what had become a shell of a country in January. Rewind to the year 2000 at the infamous Men’s bar at the Selbourne Hotel (also known as the ‘Dog Section’) where sitting with my drinking mates we speculated whether Zimbabwe would sink beyond the point we were experiencing at the time.

That was the time when my friend Owen Maroleng had boldly declared that Zimbabwe had not only reached rock bottom, but had begun to dig further. We were to scrap for nine more years after that, each year far worse that the last, the patrons of the Men’s bar dropping off like flies. At one point it became exceedingly impossible to clasp a pint that we thought pubs would be turned into museums. Imagine queuing at the bank the whole day only to withdraw enough to by a couple of buns to feed your family.

Diverting such scarce resources to buy booze would have earned a family man a date with the firing squad. Survival became the watchword. One spent the day scheming as to how he was going to put food on the table. Mugabe had turned us into hunters and gatherers of the Stone Age. Water stopped flowing into our apartment in December, 2008. It was the bleakest Christmas in living memory. I decided there and then that enough was enough. We packed our bags and headed for the Tswapong Hills.

Landing in a foreign land is an intriguing experience. You are at once reminded that you do not belong. The label ‘foreigner’ sticks to you like a bad smell. Not being able to speak their language becomes a major handicap. Batswana get visibly irritated when you use the Queen’s language on them. Not that you would have done anything wrong, it’s just that the language has a tendency of ‘getting under their tongues.’ But looking back at where one was coming from, this was a minor setback in comparison.

Everything here works. There is little stress when conducting day to day activities. The shelves are groaning with food and other things and the Batswana could not care less. God blessed them immensely when compared to our curse. Though there is disconcerting paranoia with ‘illegal Immigrants’ (read Zimbabweans), one should take it the same way that you treat an unwelcome fly that wants to spoil your meal. The Botswana government seems content with spending two million pula a month deporting illegal Zimbabwean immigrants only for the former to make a u-turn at the border.

We accept that some Zimbabweans here can be a nuisance, bringing crime to an otherwise laid back society, we actually make a very significant contribution to the success story that this semi-arid country of just under two million has become. The booming construction industry is supported by Zimbos. The demand for Zimbabwean maids, herd-boys and girls, gardeners, electricians, mechanics, plumbers, nurses is endless. Add the fact that Francistown has been built on the capital brought in by Zimbabwean cross border shoppers. The only problem is that Batswana do not seem to appreciate this for a fact.

However, there is one thing I admire the Batswana and their government for. They hate our dear leader and Zanu PF with a passion. They just can’t understand how a government can be so cruel to its own people. The face of Botswana’s disgust is in the form of none other than their Minister of Foreign Affairs, Phandu Skelemani. He comes from the Kalanga north worst affected by the excesses of the Mugabe regime.

President Lt Gen Seretse Khama Ian Khama and his government do not recognise Robert Mugabe as legitimate. During an interview Skelemani laid this position bare when he said that he accepted Mugabe as a person ‘except when he is pretending to be President.’ Mugabe’s displeasure with Ian Khama came to the fore during the signing ceremony of the Global Political Agreement last year when after a rambling diatribe he turned to the former army commander moaning, “Khama, Khama, Khama, I don’t know what wrong I have done to you!”

Much to Mugabe’s displeasure, Khama has given refuge and comfort to Prime Minister Morgan Tsvangirayi. Batswana prayed for him in a moving show of solidarity and sympathy when he lost his wife is that tragic accident. Ian even sent his top men led by Skelemani in the presidential jet to found out whether there was any foul play. They whisked Tsvangirayi to Gaborone to seek second opinion on his condition. As far as the Botswana government’s verdict on the GPA experiment, the jury is still out.

As far as being the bastion of democracy Botswana more than deserves the tag. It’s so refreshing to witness its democratic ideals in action. Arriving at the start of an election year, I got the opportunity to see real democracy in action. I have been moved to tears when comparing the sham of last year’s disputed elections In Zimbabwe. The Batswana have their share of problems, but the ideals of their founding fathers have been jealously guarded for the last 44 years! No wonder the old croc is so peeved these Batswana were making him look really bad as if that wasn’t the case.

Allow me to take you down memory lane to 1984 when I first visited Bots. It was at Francistown’s Bluetown suburb where we had stopped for a few drinks. Just outside the pub were two gentlemen standing about 50 metres apart shouting through loudhailers. I couldn’t catch what they were saying because they were talking in Setswana.

Standing between them was a motley crew, wearing party T shirts from different parties. I leaned over to ask the barman what was going on and he told me that the two were council election candidates, from the ruling Botswana Democratic Front (Domkrag) and the the opposition Botswana National Front. At no point during the event was there violence and not a single police officer was in sight. After the ‘rally’ the two opposing candidates came into the bar bought each other drinks and continued the debate with the patrons. I was totally blown away!

Now if that was that incident affected me then, fast-forward 25 years and here I was witnessing an African miracle before my very own eyes. This month’s elections in Botswana have been such a revelation. They were a stark contrast to those held in March and June of 2008 in Zimbabwe. Which explains why Mugabe is not so impressed with Ian. Figures!