The city I never liked

| Friday August 17, 2012 00:00

 

As the proceedings went at the University of Botswana (UB) last week Saturday, from the poor attendance one could conclude that maybe most of the people in this city do not have much to celebrate about it.

I had the same feeling for the first years of my stay here. I was not attracted to any fancy things or the 'city life'.

In fact I was irritated by a lot of things. As a young boy who had just come from my home village of Mahalapye, I was surprised to observe children insult each other and there was really no problem about it. I recall the times we used to board Joe's Transport from Mahalapye to this city. We would pass the BBS Mall to my aunt's home in one of Gaborone's lower class settlements of Broadhurst. I was to continue my early school days in Notwane Primary School near Botswana Police (BP) Special Support Group (SSG) camp, together with my cousins.

I never wanted to come to this city at all. The feeling of being separated from my grandmother and mother was simply traumatising. But my aunt really wanted me to live with her. My mother gave up and agreed that she takes me with her to the city. I was that stereotypical clever boy in the extended family whom every relative wants to stay with. In 1997 I was informed that I had been transferred from St Patricks Catholic Mission School in Mahalapye to Notwane Primary School where I would continue my Standard Two.

So I came down to Gaborone. It was not easy at all during my first days, both at home and at school. I wanted to be back in Mahalapye. It was only after my uncle who had just finished his studies at Otse Police College then, came to talk to me that I started to feel a bit relaxed. In fact he tricked me to into believing soon I would be taken back to Mahalapye. But before I could realise this little truth I had become used to the place that I forgot I hated. After school it was football around the streets. Although I enjoyed kicking the ball, the problem was the kids I played with were from a different social orientation altogether. In their conversations everything was fair game. It was a bit irritating for me. That is not how I grew up. My grandmother had always insisted that one minds their language when speaking to other people. We were enrolled together with some of my neighbourhood boys at the Rolling Boys Football Club behind Broadhurst English Medium Primary School. That was a place associated with the settlement of the Bazezuru tribe. We played in the development side of the team.  I think the senior one was either in the first division or second.

The coach we knew as Eddie (May His Soul Rest In Peace) or Rra Masego. Although more attention was given to the senior team, our team also got the chance to compete with other development sides from teams around Gaborone. I always had a baldhead, shaved clean. I was nicknamed Linda Buthelezi or Linda (after the South African player of the same name) The coach believed a lot in me. He thought I had discipline, on and off the field so the Linda name was based on the way I looked to the former South African player not based on the style of my play. While Buthelezi was the most dangerous tackling player of his time my style of play was totally different to his.

Although I was not as skillful as, say Pontsho Moloi, the coach believed that I applied the basics to the ball and could give the team shape during play. I was more of a ball player like Tshepo 'Schoolboy' Molefhe. Every time at our training a Mmegi car would be parked by and there was an unconfirmed belief from some of my friends that the newspaper was sponsoring the team.

But it is more of my interest in music that soon overshadowed my interest in football. With a black and white television set at home, I never missed the likes of Studio 88 presented by Melanie Son (now Bala, married to Zwai Bala former TKZee band member) and Jam Alley during the days of Vinolia Mashego. Although I grew up where reggae music was the order of the day with my uncle and his cousins, I turned to Kwaito music. Although the Hip Hop guys used to undermine us during the days at school and always showed off with their expensive taste and labelled us thieves, it never bothered me because I have never been that. That was the times of the transformation of Pantsula to the introduction of the 'manyora' essence even though the difference between the two is not yet clear.

Nothing made me more happy than listening to the likes of Bonginkosi 'Zola' Dlamini,Arthur 'Vuvuzela' Mafokate,Mdu Masilela and Mduduzi 'Mandoza' Tshabalala among others not forgetting the almighty TKZee of the hit song Shibobo, made up of members Kabelo 'Bouga Luv' Mabalane,Tokollo 'Magesh' Tshabalala and Zwai Bala.

We also watched stories from South Africa like Lesilo, Tlharantlhope, Poo Tsa Mosako. We imbibed South African arts and culture. That's when I discovered Kaiser Chiefs, during the days of Mark Williams, the ever-stylish Thabo Mooki and others. Although the life that I lived in Gaborone appeared economically better than that one in a rural village like Mahalapye; this was just a facade. Everybody would be too busy to care if you had taken a good bath before going to school. Unlike in Mahalapye where even though one went to school on an empty stomach, grandmother would have made sure that the hair is combed, shoes polished and all the likes. My aunt was a busy self-employed woman. She would at times disappear for weeks travelling through countries such as Zimbabwe, Zambia and Tanzania on business matters. Her husband worked at Gaborone Sun where as a hotel manager his job was demanding and so he was rarely home. Therefore we the children had to do everything for ourselves such as washing our clothes, ironing and all the stuff.

It was a life of packing lunch boxes to school. It was something that I was not used to. I would eat all my food in the morning and go to school to feed on what had been cooked there while other children would open their lunch boxes and claim that they would not eat food school food.

We never missed events like Consumer Show, Police and Botswana Defence Force (BDF) Day celebrations.  But the Coca Cola Cup Finals were always my favourites. We played mostly in the streets of the hood between Ginger and BBS Mall, around the now dilapidated leisure and recreations ground next to the Broadhurst Police Station and the Magistrate Court. The member of parliament of the area then was Maitshwarelo Dabutha. My aunt and my mother; enthusiastic Botswana National Front (BNF) members would always cherish him as Dabs. There were also these men in my neighbourhood who liked debating political issues. I liked listening to them. Every now and then they would send me to buy them a cigarette but I would be back fast to listen to them. They liked talking about how Dabutha would harass the Botswana Democratic Party (BDP) in parliament. To them he was the 'Bombshell' a name which still I don't understand whether they heard it somewhere or it came from them. Dabutha's yard was less than a kilometre from home.

But soon my aunt and her husband had economic problems and it was time to get back to Mahalapye. The adults stayed behind in Gaborone to get things back in order. Going back to my home village was a move that made me so happy. Finally I was back in the village I cherished so much. That is why even after a year when everything went back to normal with my aunt and her husband, I refused to go back to the city. I was now grown up enough to influence the decision. I was doing Standard Five. I then enjoyed being with my grandmother who would always be at home when she was not attending her seswaete initiatives or BDP activities, the party she is still a proud member of. Those were the days I used to play with my wire car toys around and at times I would meet one old man who liked to say, 'mokolwane o mpone lorry ya gago e seka ya nthula'.  I later learned that the old man was Obonetse OK Menyatso (may his soul rest in peace), one of the founders of BNF.

But I could not escape Gaborone forever. After completion of Secondary School, I had little choice but to come south again this time for tertiary education. I had to go through applying at the institutions around, queuing up for sponsorship letters, registration, sorting accommodation at school and everything else.

After University I wanted to become a writer. I had to take being turned into a joke in newsrooms. But only a fool will give up on their dreams, as I fought through to write for a lot of publications including Mmegi.