I can still hear his husky baritone voice ringing in my ears as he broke into a laconic laugh and looked away.That was vintage Rampholo. Folksy, funny and witty. Self-effacing, intense and detached. Impersonal, frank and forthright. His remark about Mogale was said in jest, not to disparage.
Like Rampholo, Charles Mogale was a former editor of the Botswana Guardian. He died last year. Rampholo had wanted to write an obituary about this fallen scribe but could not because he was immersed in writing a manuscript about his own life. His health was also beginning to fail him but he was determined to complete the manuscript.
Rampholo was a complex character. A complete enigma. Needless to say, he was a confluence of many gifts and talents. Rampholo was an intersection of the urbane engaging intellectual, the rebel who disowned his middle class upbringing, and the freedom fighter sans borders who fought for the wretched of the earth wherever they are.
