A shared purpose

Dr Fahim Chand | Monday February 16, 2026 09:48

Then time that the most relentless bureaucrat went to work. Continents cracked apart like old porcelain, oceans seeped into the seams, and geography slowly hardened into destiny.

Africa emerged whole and vast, a continent with its own internal logic: rivers, trade routes, languages, kingdoms, boundaries drawn by nature and negotiated by people who lived there.

Then, much later and far more abruptly, came rulers and rulers, not kings of soil, but of maps. In European boardrooms, far from African dust, straight lines were sketched with ruler and ink.

The Berlin Conference of 1884–85 carved Africa like a cake no one present had baked. Rivers were ignored, ethnicities bisected, histories overwritten.

Borders were not discovered; they were imposed.

Botswana, then Bechuanaland, was boxed into existence less by tectonic drift than imperial convenience. And so here we are: a nation born of ancient land and modern lines, carrying both the wisdom of deep time and the scars of recent history.

Politics, like geology, shapes outcomes slowly, then suddenly.

The question before us now is not who drew the borders, but whether our leaders can rise above them, governing not by inherited lines, but by shared purpose, accountability, and vision worthy of the land beneath our feet. Botswana’s birth as a nation was an unlikely miracle, forged not in abundance but in foresight.

Our early leaders governed with a rare discipline: think long, steal nothing, invest patiently.

Diamonds were treated not as loot, but as a trust. Institutions were strengthened, laws respected, and prudence became policy.

Africa took note. But time, again, altered the landscape. Vision slowly gave way to vanity. Corruption crept in softly, then settled comfortably.

Self-interest began to masquerade as leadership, and the economy, once a model of restraint, started to wobble under the weight of mismanagement and entitlement.

Eventually, the people spoke. After 58 uninterrupted years, the BDP’s grip loosened, not by accident but by exhaustion.

A new ruling party was elected, less as an experiment than as a warning: but take note, legitimacy is renewable only through integrity. Botswana now stands at a familiar crossroads, proof that nations, like diamonds, are shaped as much by pressure as by choice.

But how do we respond to pressure? By expecting miracles, perhaps. We cast hopeful glances toward President Boko, half-imagining a magician’s flourish that might lift us from our predicament.

Yet this is not a crisis of his making; it is an inheritance, neatly gift-wrapped by years of political chicanery.

Inflation now prowls every sector, asking cruel questions of ordinary households: how do the poor feed their children, let alone plan a future? In healthcare, the world I inhabit, the strain is no longer theoretical.

BPOMAS, emptied of funds, cannot pay doctors. Obligations pile up, expenses do not pause for patriotism, and goodwill is a currency long since devalued.

Speaking of which, I am no economist, but when a currency is deliberately weakened, it feels less like policy and more like a collective concussion.

Prices soar, banks feast on exchange spreads, book massive profits, and call it efficiency while the rest of us brace for impact. Botswana now stands uncomfortably close to the edge.

I urge our leaders, whom I still trust, to steady the ship and steer with imagination. Fix the currency exchange distortions; banks do not feed children, people do.

Rescue healthcare before it collapses under its own neglect.

Above all, communicate. Tell us you see us, that we matter, and that there is a path forward.

We come from a glorious past built on wisdom and restraint; with courage and clarity, we may yet pressure-forge a future worthy of it.

Note: BPOMAS have begun settling unpaid medical claims.