Now the children are getting free money to go and record messages in the makeshift studios to chant the messages that the president-king announces at the nation's dikgotla.  Khama stands tallest among the 'three great chiefs' whom, the story goes, brought the country British protection.

They are now concealed behind the skyline at the Gaborone West shopping mall.  Nature, it seems, does not like to be dominated by one person.

 I am no psychologist, but something tells me that no nation - no democracy - can thrive on the deification of one name or man who appears in one form or the other in every successive generation for the past 300 or so years.

Two propositions:  The nation, lurching under the despair that is rooted in its desperate condition of life, is desperate for a messiah who will retrieve it from their desperation.  And so they find a familiar figure, give it god-like qualities, and then proceed to worship it in the manner of idolatry for which God admonished the biblical Israelites.

Otherwise it might be the insecure power-monger who pastes his personal image on every available poster so that his or her presence is felt even in the most private of places.  Emperor Hirohito (Japan). Stalin (Russia). Hitler (Germany). Mussolini (Italy). Mobutu Sese  Seko (Zaire), and  Leabua Jonathan (Lesotho).  In the movies, they always wave to the people, who also wave back. Privately, the citizens live like scared rats.

In the civilised societies of old, the mmoki, the palace clown and the artists were licenced to make public comment on the manner of governance of the kings and the queens.  They were the people's voice, unlike the counsellors and 'Kgotla elders' who are more interested in gaining the favour of the rulers for their own private ends.

The artists then, have to be careful that they do not compromise the integrity of this licence by receiving gifts in exchange for singing praise poems for the politicians.  This licence comes with social responsibility.  The artist is required to return the favour by speaking his true mind and informing the nation about the goings-on at the Kgotla and in the village. The artist is also required to be fair and honest in his comment.

When Talking Musika speaks about the efficacy of folk art, it is for this reason.  Folk art did not provide entertainment for entertainment's sake.  It was always tied to information and education of the nation.

It helped to reinforce the nation's sense of its history, its identity and its common destiny.  No dictator comes to mind who did not seek to give instructions to the artists by controlling the radio stations, the newspapers and the television stations whilst also ensuring that the independent voice of the people in the community centres, in the night spots and social clubs is banned or economically suffocated. 

There must not be a place where popular culture proceeds without instructions from the Office of the President (OP), the ministry of culture, the secret police and eventually, the army! 

So, this debate is not really about booze and braai stands, but rather, it is about state encroachment on what legislator Botsalo Ntuane calls 'civil liberties'; the citizen's right to freedoms of expression, association and movement.

Folk art - the people's art - has been, is and it should always be a vehicle for the promotion of the right of the average citizen to debate, learn and share his or her experience about life and how to make it better.

I am now even more resolute that I will not, in public, continue to try and impress visitors by playing music from Britain, America, Germany or Italy.  I am not one of their folk.

I now intend to campaign even more persuasively among my collaborators, in this column and through my own music, to look towards the Setswana (my father), Xhosa (my mother), and the southern African folk traditions for the artistic language through which I can comment on the condition of Batswana, maybe even the world.

I will play African standards such as Laku Shon' Ilanga, Malaika and the compositions of Mohapeloa, Ratsie, Kippie 'Morolong' Moeketsi wa Mafikeng and KT Motsete.  I will ask my friends to play them as I hear them. I will do that most sparingly with the Afro American folk music of Thelonious Monk or John Coltrane.

In other words, I will not copy songs.  That is un-African.  The Africans borrow a phrase or a few words, and interpret, adding their own thoughts.  Never do they copy.  Copying is stealing.  It is also a form of creative suicide.  It is escapism. It says: "I have nothing to offer. I do not exist."