Kgalagadi in full bloom, getting there..

Just after Malotwane before Mosaditshwene in the early hours of Sunday, Bakgatla are deep and lost in their tradition: the annual Christmas Dikhwaere, the choral festivals that go through the night and day. I make a mental note that one day I should attend one of these now that I am a Kgatleng resident.

We exit the SKMH on to A14 via my home village Serowe – the village that used to be famed for its architecture. We called it ‘Ko Dithoeng’, from those shiny metal cones on the thatched rooftops of the rondavel huts that are not there anymore. Although there is always that nostalgic feeling driving into this once beloved village, it feels different now. The nostalgia is slowly fading away and the more recent memories are the BPF’s yellow and black Eseng Mo Go Kgosikgolo T-shirts. The memory of the proud old timers in khaki shirts and Victorian helmet hats is being replaced by the politically split morafe, sad and angry at how the government of the day is allegedly treating their Kgosikgolo. But we are not here to stay.