In our maiden issue for 2011, we carried a story in which a number of revellers at several bars around Serowe complained that the President and his MP brother appeared unheralded at the joints. The revellers' gripe, which was amply corroborated by one of them in a letter to the editor in a subsequent edition, was that the arrival of the President was an antithesis to their merriment because they had to scamper. Not that they had done anything wrong, no. They simply could not drink freely while President Khama sat solemnly in a car less than a stone's throw away while his younger brother stood quietly inside the bar as the police and soldiers invaded the place.
But then again, it was not Khama, his younger brother, the police and soldiers that the revellers saw. Perhaps the people were the hapless victims of an affliction of mass hysteria so sudden, overwhelming and 'smart' that it spread so widely to places of a specific nature in the course of the same night. Or were the dramatis personae of this crude production themselves unwary victims of supernatural projections that placed them in bars around Serowe during a night of occult forces? Or, being tipplers, did the people all partake of the contents of a poisoned chalice that had an effect on their minds and eyes? In that case, no effort should be spared to identify the nefarious beverage and ban its consumption in the interests of public safety and sanity.
