AN EXTRACT FROM "CORRIDORS OF POWER" MY MANUSCRIPT YET TO BE PUBLISHED. A LOOK AT MY FIRST EUROPEAN TRIP WITH NEWLY APPOINTED PRESIDENT MASIRE IN 1980.

 "Despite his ardent role as a political activist, Quett Masire had basically been a simple man all his life. In many ways he was a difficult, if not complex character to judge. He could be jovial and exuberant at one moment, and placid to reserved in another. Despite these apparent mood swings, Quett Masire enjoyed company tremendously and could be generous with time for that. Notwithstanding this generosity with company, Sir Ketumile was a punctilious slave-driver and a stingy accountant of every second in a day. Enjoying the lassitude of conversation as he did, Quett Masire made up for lost time through a over-taxing work schedule that overwhelmed virtually every aide in his entourage. Few people in leadership, in my view were so driven by notions of duty and honour as Sir Ketumile was. During the 1980 trip to Europe all our days of the five-week tour began and ended in the Presidential Suite. Quett Masire was as punctilious as he was fastidious on matters of time and detail. His Permanent Secretary and Chief of Staff was a man inherited from the Seretse Khama days, Mr Phillip Steenkamp who accompanied him on the trip. This tall Afrikaner man was as resolute in his work and behaviour as he could be abrasive and uncouth. That was perhaps what his superiors appreciated in him; what mortified some Cabinet Members and Senior officials, mollified objective critics, enthralled interested observers and awed most subordinates. He was an astute officer who spoke his mind. That was what endeared him to Quett Masire.



Some of us in the delegation thought Quett Masire needed a little grooming here and there as President but we were all amazed at his quick adaptation to the big office. He impressed the European Government and business personalities with his pragmatism, economic repertoire and mastery of the English language.


A factor that kept on nagging me throughout the trip as I watched Quett Masire then was what I believed was his lack of presidential decorum; a close friend commented though that my apprehensions arose from the fact that we wanted to transplant Sir Seretse Khama’s anglophile type of character into Quett Masire’s Spartan characteristics. To be fair to Sir Ketumile, despite his rather capricious excursions of character, he was a man of reputable equanimity where astute officialdom was imperative.


My criticism of my president were triggered by instances in Europe in 1980, where he would for instance, drift away from the entourage of host escorts to look at something or the other; or race off to greet someone that he fancied speaking to. I also believed that he exhibited a callous disregard for his personal safety on many occasions, endangering in the process the safety of his host protectors and those of his bodyguards. One such occasion that I recall was when we viewed the city of Belgrade from atop a cliff and Quett Masire had to move towards the very end of the precipice, in order to look down. One of the Yugoslav security guards, a young fellow, stepped in between the Botswana president and the thin line of concrete separating him from his charge and a long drop to what would be the guard's inevitable death. Quett Masire turned around to face the rest of the delegation, almost knocking the guard off balance. I held my breath in suppressed horror. Such incidents were not representative of Quett Masire’s fatherly disposition but he was uncannily given to infantile physical exuberance at times.


Harsh as my judgment was of the supercilious attitude of Sir Ketumile towards his own personal safety, my apprehensions were corroborated by the Yugoslav security guard who astraddle the lofty zones of safety and a a possible plunge to death. I boldly but surreptitiously asked him how he felt. What he told me touched my heart. Yugoslavia was a communist state then. Disgrace to the nation came in many forms. Obeisance was an ubiquitous characteristic of service. The guard said to me:-


"I'd rather lose my life protecting your president because then my family would be spared and protected. But if I live and he plunges to his death, I may as well be dead for all that would happen to me and my family."


Quett Masire never heard this and apparently never quite discerned anything wrong. If he did, he kept it very much to himself. Nonetheless, the Quett Masire that I knew then and that I was to be privileged to know more later, would never have hurt a fly.






I used to observe that despite admitting to having "weak legs" Quett Masire was given to frenetic physical movements, including sharp turns often as rounded as 360 degree motions, with the speed and dexterity of a fox in its prime. He could dart around his surroundings until his delegation and security guards completely lost their bearings and constantly missed where the man was. In later years, I was to quietly interprete this behaviour as a desire to break free from his self-imposed prison. The man had been guarded since independence in 1966 as a Vice President. He was to remain under protective custody even in retirement. Sir Ketumile was born free and every idiosyncrasy of his was a cry for freedom.


On one occasion, we were visiting a snowy area of Norway called Little Hammer (English version) when Quett Masire alighted from the luxury bus we were using, soon after the bus had stopped. His charges did not see the man getting out of the bus although they were sitting next to him and even having constant conversation with the president. Quett Masire started moving towards the direction of a frozen lake. Fortunately, his Botswana tropical climate leather shoes with their slippery sole and heel deterred and slowed his movements. He nearly fell but instead of stopping, kept on wobbling until his charges caught up with him and diverted him from the lake.


Quett did not appear bothered by the little episode that could have plunged him into icy cold waters had he stepped on the thin snow covering the lake. The president was saved from the drama. There was to be a lesser but dramatic episode shortly thereafter. His Botswana security guards were destined for a less perilous but more hilarious snow experience when we got to our hotel. Despite advice from our hosts, few members of the Botswana delegation had bought or brought the rubber-soled shoes that had been recommended for the snowy area of Norway. As the vehicles stopped in front of the hotel, the alert and committed Botswana Security guards spilled out of their cars. One of them rushed forward towards the presidential limousine. The first guard slipped and fell on his back in the snow, legs up in the air, exhibiting well polished black shoes. We roared with laughter as the embarrassed security officer clawed the air in thwarted attempts to stand up. He looked like a capsized giant beetle. His immediate senior reprimanded him in Setswana and then sped towards the president. A few steps forward the second guard went down too. The most senior guard watched the goings on with hands on his hips, his head shaking disapprovingly and then angrily marched past his men to personally take over the supervision of the presidential security. As fate would have it, the most senior guard slipped and fell dramatically too.






Some of the Norwegian authorities took pictures but I confess that I could not take any pictures of these incidents because I was in tears. There was to be a poignant end to this episode.


The First Lady of Botswana Mrs Gladys Masire, later Lady Olebile Masire, who was emerging from her car slowly and carefully, not to mention circumspectedly, watched this whole episode in rapt attention. She stopped her movements and sitting back into the car, Mrs Masire brushed her hands together in a traditional symbol of despondency and said:-


"Jaanong banna ba security ba ole hela botlhe." (All our security guards have now fallen).


In Europe, Quett Masire adorned the cloak of a shrewd salesperson and sold SADC as if it were his very own invention. What you could rely on Quett Masire to do during those days and to do with near perfection, it was his ability and agility to present a concept, nurture it, defend and sustain it. The man had an incredible memory capacity, an ability to grasp issues quickly and an inexhaustible reservoir of vocabulary. Sir Ketumile’s maiden trip to Europe (as president) was highly successful, taking us as it did through the ethereal beauty of European landscape, the dulcet classical music of Ceausescu’s Romania and Tito’s Yugoslavia and right through the often sardonic expressions of Eurocentric sceptics."


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AN EXTRACT FROM MY MANUSCRIPT "CORRIDORS OF POWER" WHICH IS YET TO BE PUBLISHED. HERE I REFLECT ON A TRIP TO EUROPE WITH FORMER PRESIDENT MASIRE SOON AFTER HE TOOK OVER AS PRESIDENT IN 1980.