Good bye my friend, good bye my leader by Ndaba Gaolathe 11-08-2014 For all the beautiful words he used, in Setswana and English And despite the use of the most hidden metaphors or his art of presentation Even he, Motswaledi, on this day, could not have adequately captured the full extent of the towering life he led He could not have fully shown the glow of his exemplary life His humility would never have been willing to dig the chapters of the bible The only place where men like him are found He would have refused to be likened to Daniel or Moses That’s exactly the man he was, a man of biblical proportions This was Gomolemo the courageous, this was Sir G the visionary, this was Gomolemo the magnificent servant of the people Yet it was not the grand visions he possessed or espoused that made him great Nor was it his eloquence or his musical genius It was the simple things with everyone he met, the small gestures, the humor, the laughters, the handshakes, the phone calls and the hugs that revealed the gift he was How many men and women are able to live with us, among us, in this way, treating us as equals, believing in their equality with us, when in fact, something deep in them sets them apart “Ina jame ke Gomolemo, sehane ke Motswaledi, ke tsalwa ko Serowe, mme ka maswabi ke kgaeletse mo Gaborone” And true to his humility and despite that he was my president Regardless that he was the senior brother, irrespective of his more valuable traits He allowed us to live like equals, we did everything together Never, on our long has anything, or anybody or any issue come in-between, not once For everything we faced we faced as a team He consulted on every decision, sought a view even on the most sensitive I remember our experiences and how we subsequently left the BDP I remember the experiences when we decided that Gideon Boko, not him, must lead the Umbrella This was Gomolemo the courageous, this was Sir G the visionary, this was Gomolemo the magnificent servant of the people Although he was a people’s man living among the people and for the people He was a man who reserved a special place in his heart for his family, loved his father, we called him “Tax” Now this man is a walking dictionary of the Setswana language, We made fun of him often, in a fond way Tax is a man of prayer, long prayers, and is not the type of man you want to visit if you are in a hurry Tax is the human form of strength and courage There is no need to wonder where and how Gomolemo became a lion-tamer His brother, Gape, is a walking museum of his brother, in both physical disposition, in his language and Botho He too was a subject of our jokes Many years ago, on our way to the north, we filled our petrol at the BP station in Palapye There was a young lady there who used to help us – Malebogo – I recall He would say to me “kana nna le wena ha ne re le batho jaaka batho bangwe, re sa taboge le “struggle”, batho ba teng, motho o ka gorosa segametse” Then within a year or so of our conversation, he wakes me early in the morning “Rraetsho ke go boleletse gore ha re batho ba sepe. O gopola kgarejwana wa tsala ya rona ko Palapye. Ke bua jaana lekolwane le Gape le re le a mo tsaya. Tota nte ke re Gape o setse a mo tsere (mo gongwe mo ke tsamaiso hela). Go raya gore rona re tla itshalela ka struggle hela” How he loved his son Mozart – I am not sure if Mozart knows, that this is the name I used to refer to his father by, long before he was born, and I have to thank you for putting me as part of your video game football team This was Gomolemo the courageous, this was Sir G the visionary, this was Gomolemo the magnificent servant of the people He was no slave to western and foreign cultures His culture, a medley of local cultures and languages, distinguished his poise Truly an African, authentically the African The type of African that Mbeki sees when he says “I owe my being to the hills and the valleys, the mountains and the glades, the rivers, the deserts, the trees, the flowers, the seas and the ever-changing seasons that define the face of our native land” But this wealth in African heritage did not mean he was oblivious to the world beyond the oceans He wrote songs in Latin, and conducted mass choirs in Latin America His sense of dress, meticulous, stately and sometimes colourful is what many of you will remember He complained about my dress code, particularly my reluctance to wear orange jackets My two most colourful jackets, orange and cheque ones, came from him on the day of my launch at Bonnington South He would remind me of the lecture Rev Dibeela gave the two of us some time ago “O seka wa lebala moruti a re re apere jaaka batho baba ka tlisang diphetego, gongwe le gongwe ko re yang teng” This was Gomolemo the courageous, this was Sir G the visionary, this was Gomolemo the magnificent servant of the people His generosity of heart, kindness and capacity to forgive were legendary He had no personal hatred for anyone Gomolemo hated no one one, he despised no one, he forgave everyone, even those that despised him There were only two occasions when I thought he was visibly upset And on both occasions, it was because someone had compromised the truth On both occasions I had spoken to him at midnight about it, to cool him down He would say to me “Ke shakgetse tota. Tota ha o ne o seyo hale ke kabo ke shakgetse le go heta. Mme kana ke a itse gore o shakgetse le wena, pharologanyo ya rona hela ke gore nna ke dirisa diele di le dintsinyana” Although many of our people were prepared and willing to serve him Gomolemo did not allow them; instead he offered himself as their servant In the churches, among the choirs, in funerals, at weddings, at seminars, festivals, football occasions, political launches, international conventions, special national projects he was always the servant in chief. When our people were violated, he felt violated When they were oppressed, he felt oppressed When they were without opportunity, he fought to bring forth opportunity And when they were at a loss for hope, he felt a duty to ignite a flame of hope On the choral circuit he had no match He carried a conductor’s rode with delicate firmness His feet rose and descended with the beautiful notes his choirs bellowed Oh what beautiful music he wrote, so healing and so freeing from the troubles of this world The same sort of songs that King David played to heal the troubled They say the greatest gifts of them all is life and love And these he had in abundance, this a matter he understood and often recited from the Psalmist, that You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. This was him, this is him, as the psalmist so eloquently submits He gave himself wholly, My family was his, and his was mine, and so was the case with many other families around him Gomolemo was a loved man, oh crowds danced around him at political rallies Policemen took off their hats for him, yes they did And our members, our mothers, aunts and sisters of the umbrella They competed to share their stories with him The youngsters and many people around the world He kept them giggling, he left them wishing to improve themselves So this love that all of you have shown for him, the tears, the words and the salutations And he understood this for he once came to me and asked “mokaulengwe kante batho ba re rata mo go kanana..” The ladies and men at the office, MmaSibisibi, Disoso, AusBinki, Rre Moatlhodi, Rre Bobi, Rre Dubs, Rre Mmolotsi, Kgosi Tawana, Gideon Boko, Kgosikoma, Prince Dibeela and many many more of you Motshwarakgole was one of our parents, willing to guide and encourage us Pastors Mmualefhe, Dibeela and Hambira were our elder brothers, calling us for prayer in the We were surrounded by old wise men, and I am delighted, one of them, RraGaone is here Let me share a short story with you Of a country that boasted about the peace that its governors said existed on the land At weddings and funerals, people spoke of the tradition of peace A tradition they cherished and celebrated They boasted how different they were from originally war-torn nations In flaming letters, they printed on children’s texts, that “ntwa-kgolo ke ya molomo” They rejected anything that threatened their peace They spoke about their love for unity and a united nation A common kraal where all citizens, rich and poor, young and senior, urban and rural, were united as one They boasted about good governance on their land But those who allowed their spiritual eyes to see Knew and understood that there was no peace on that land They understood that the country was on auto-pilot and its only sustenance was based on the remnants of goodwill built on the peace that existed many years past But on this land, in this story, good men and women were sidelined Good men and women were silenced The governors of this land unleashed a powerful communication machinery to paint these men and women as warmongers They were made out to be power-mongers, trouble-makers The people were told these a peace-haters In the meanwhile those who governed drank from the cup of hatred They governed with deceit and falsehoods, always withholding the truth from the people They syphoned the country of its resources They dumped every wonderful idea into the caves To the naked eye, they appeared stately and noble Slowly the people began to see them for who they were Those with the spiritual eyes started praying Those with political hands started mobilizing Among these good men who had started this work Was Gomolemo Motswaledi The story ends there It is a story that Sir G would have wanted you to finish He would have trusted you to finish this In fact, he believed that you would finish it And you would do it peacefully, wisely, creatively, faithfully, authentically, beautifully, firmly and with great conviction He believed you would see this through, oh yes see it through For in the nature of our work, there is no telling if the sun will rise the next day Let no one mislead you You don’t have to be loud for your voice to be heard The force of peace is stronger than the force of violence You can be militant and still be courteous (Steve Biko was militant but very kind to the police) Love will always overpower hatred Light will always chase away darkness Wealth of heart is more enduring than earthly riches And the forces of good will always defeat forces of darkness Remember these words, for victory is tied with them I see victory here, I see victory for our people This is the path that Gomolemo has cultivated for our generation and for all generations to come Let us do it for him Let us persevere and move forward Pastors, pray for this country, deliver this country for us, and protect them for us Police officers and all our security forces, please, I beg you, I ask you, I call upon you, please protect the good men and women of this struggle, you know who they are You, the young ones, he would have been proud of you, that finally you are beginning to stand for this country, but be smart about how you pursue the struggle No one should find an excuse to call you violent or irresponsible You can be firm without been violent You can sing without being rowdy We need you, we need your brains and your hands to shape the destiny of this country The elders of this nation, please come out of your hibernation The same truth you taught us to espouse is the same truth that you too must now espouse Tell the Governors of this country, please tell them, that they have lost their way Tell your children please, tell them, tell them the rulers of this country have lost their way And the many men and women of this country Stand up on your feet, fight for freedom and fairness to shower on the roof-tops of our homes This is the time, Now is the time Here lies the body of a human being of biblical proportions, A symphony man, a man of beautiful speech, a man of poise of decorum, A democrat, a tall operator of national projects, a disciplined cadre of the most wonderful political movement our country has known, A visionary whose eyes saw beyond the rubicon, A peacemaker, a man who was not afraid to speak the truth and act on what is right, A sterling father, a disciplined son Here is a man who would have been a fine vice president or even President of the Republic of Botswana This is a song I would have asked him to sing for himself, A song that I ask all of you to sing for yourself I am a giant I am an eagle I am a lion Down in the jungle I am a marchin’ band I am the people I am a helpin’ hand And I am a hero If anybody asks u who I am Just stand up tall look ‘em in the Face and say I’m that star up in the sky I’m that mountain peak up high I made it
Posted on: Wed, 13 Aug 2014 08:34:23 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015