Letter to Seretse � Part II

It was beautiful at the National Stadium. The Stadium is much bigger and carries a decent capacity now and it was packed to the rafters with proud Batswana in blue, black and white.

In the morning, Ian arrived in the same shining crystal black Rolls Royce that you used in 1966 (not that we don’t have better car models, nowadays. It was just a symbolic  and sentimental gesture) and your boy’s driver was wearing that old Bechuanaland khaki police uniform. Although Ian appeared rather lonely riding solo in the back seat of the Royce, it was a beautiful entourage because the immaculately dressed Botswana Defence Force (BDF) personnel escorted him riding white elegantly attired horses, moving gracefully around the stadium racetrack to the applause of multitudes that had descended on the now resplendent national stadium,  with comfortable seating, unlike those rickety stands your contemporaries used on that day.