My view is, if you can’t find it in this cradle of bustling roadside micro-entrepreneurship, whatever it is that you might be looking for, you would probably not find it in any other village. With little social welfare in this country, and a few charitable organisations willing to hand out alms, unemployed Mogoditshanians have no choice but to roll their sleeves and eke a living amid a hostile atmosphere that is not normally disposed to supporting micro-entrepreneurs slaving in the informal sector. And I must say they have mastered and perfected this art. I am yet to hear a Mogoditshanian growling and mewling about his lot in life.
From this year’s population census, it has come to light that Mogoditshane has wrestled the baton of the largest village from my home village, Molepolole. With all the gruesome murders that have become part of Molepolole’s cultural philosophy, it came as no surprise to me, that Mogoditshane has aggressively grabbed the number one spot. Why would anyone want to endanger their lives by moving to a slaughterhouse! Mogoditshane’s population grew by four percent relative to Molepolole’s paltry one percent. Of course, in attributing Molepolole’s low growth to the social challenges that have hit the village, I am deliberately being cynical. More important socio-economic dynamics, including Mogoditshane’s proximity to the country’s hub of formal and informal employment, must have played a crucial role. In any case, how would one explain the less than one percent growth for Serowe without schussing the slithery slope of accusing our compatriots of infertility?
