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In Memory of Jim Sifton added in December 2022.
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LUC BOUTIN
Born September 24, 1947 in Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu, Quebec
Died March 10, 1986 in Gatineau, Quebec, age 39
Born September 24, 1947 in Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu, Quebec
Died March 10, 1986 in Gatineau, Quebec, age 39
FERN CATT
Died May 6, 1984, in Portage la Prairie, Manitoba, age 42
Died May 6, 1984, in Portage la Prairie, Manitoba, age 42
Submitted by Carol Shipley, thanks to Thelma Howard, Saskatoon
Anne worked in the Extension Division of the University of Saskatchewan. She spent a fair amount of time in northern Saskatchewan teaching sewing. Her husband would acquire old treadle sewing machines, repair them, and then Anne would take them up north and leave them in the communities where she taught.
Following retirement, she had a CUSO placement in Maun, where she did extension work similar to what she had done in Saskatchewan.
In 1993 Ann was inducted into the Saskatchewan Agriculture Hall of Fame (SAHF). There is a write-up about Ann on the SAHF website: https://www.sahf.ca/inductees/c/colley_ann.html
Anne worked in the Extension Division of the University of Saskatchewan. She spent a fair amount of time in northern Saskatchewan teaching sewing. Her husband would acquire old treadle sewing machines, repair them, and then Anne would take them up north and leave them in the communities where she taught.
Following retirement, she had a CUSO placement in Maun, where she did extension work similar to what she had done in Saskatchewan.
In 1993 Ann was inducted into the Saskatchewan Agriculture Hall of Fame (SAHF). There is a write-up about Ann on the SAHF website: https://www.sahf.ca/inductees/c/colley_ann.html
Submitted by Po Chun Lau
After my orientation in Kopong, Pansy Flemming was the one who kept putting me on the train to Serowe and I kept returning to Gaborone. It was after three trips to the train station that I was finally on my way. I arrived in Serowe in the middle of the night at Bea Day’s house. She gave me a cup of tea and sent me to bed. Two amazing people I got to know beyond our Botswana time!
Next morning, I saw Bea’s house – a twin rondavel joined together by a bathroom. I loved that rondavel! I had many cups of tea there with Bea until she went back to Victoria in 1978.
Bea retired from the Credit Union in Victoria when she was 65. One night, she was watching TV and there was something on CUSO. She said to herself, ‘I can do this’ and she did – she joined CUSO in 1976. She was recruited as the Treasurer of the Central District Council (CDC) while her counterpart was attending university in the UK. Bea, or Mma Day, was well respected and loved by the people she worked with. Bea and I worked across from each other for a year. Bea always had a thermos of tea at work. Quite often, I would buy a ‘fat cake’, or ‘manoko’ from the ladies selling them outside our office and have tea with Bea. Bea helped ease my transition from Toronto life to Serowe life by just being there for me.
Shortly before she was due to go back to Canada, Bea was involved in a car accident. But she insisted on staying and finishing her work. When Bob and I got married in 1982, our wedding was like a small CUSO reunion with Bea Day, Jan Stuart, Susan Smith, David and Lyndie Shih, and Dave Hellard. Bea gave us a hand-painted bowl as our wedding gift and we will always treasure that. She suffered a stroke in 1998 and left us on January 30, 2002, at age 92.
From Kevin Shipley
Here’s a (likely not 100% accurate) Bea Day anecdote that I recall:
One day Bea got into her car while there was a baboon hiding in the back seat. The baboon was very surprised that a human was getting into the car, and Bea was very surprised that a baboon was in the car. It didn’t end well because the baboon bit Bea.
After my orientation in Kopong, Pansy Flemming was the one who kept putting me on the train to Serowe and I kept returning to Gaborone. It was after three trips to the train station that I was finally on my way. I arrived in Serowe in the middle of the night at Bea Day’s house. She gave me a cup of tea and sent me to bed. Two amazing people I got to know beyond our Botswana time!
Next morning, I saw Bea’s house – a twin rondavel joined together by a bathroom. I loved that rondavel! I had many cups of tea there with Bea until she went back to Victoria in 1978.
Bea retired from the Credit Union in Victoria when she was 65. One night, she was watching TV and there was something on CUSO. She said to herself, ‘I can do this’ and she did – she joined CUSO in 1976. She was recruited as the Treasurer of the Central District Council (CDC) while her counterpart was attending university in the UK. Bea, or Mma Day, was well respected and loved by the people she worked with. Bea and I worked across from each other for a year. Bea always had a thermos of tea at work. Quite often, I would buy a ‘fat cake’, or ‘manoko’ from the ladies selling them outside our office and have tea with Bea. Bea helped ease my transition from Toronto life to Serowe life by just being there for me.
Shortly before she was due to go back to Canada, Bea was involved in a car accident. But she insisted on staying and finishing her work. When Bob and I got married in 1982, our wedding was like a small CUSO reunion with Bea Day, Jan Stuart, Susan Smith, David and Lyndie Shih, and Dave Hellard. Bea gave us a hand-painted bowl as our wedding gift and we will always treasure that. She suffered a stroke in 1998 and left us on January 30, 2002, at age 92.
From Kevin Shipley
Here’s a (likely not 100% accurate) Bea Day anecdote that I recall:
One day Bea got into her car while there was a baboon hiding in the back seat. The baboon was very surprised that a human was getting into the car, and Bea was very surprised that a baboon was in the car. It didn’t end well because the baboon bit Bea.
Submitted by Shirley (Bender) Dunford
Neil, from Peterborough Ontario, arrived in Botswana in September 1974. He had just finished his Bachelor of Science at Trent. He was placed in Good Hope as a District Officer, and worked with the Land Board settling land disputes. I recall him saying he literally paced out the boundaries, then drew corresponding maps where this information was recorded. He loved the slower pace of life, relaxed atmosphere and experiencing the Botswana way of life, and the many friendships he developed.
As mentioned in my Bio, Neil met me in Botswana and in December 1976 we returned briefly to Canada and were married with family and a couple of close friends in attendance. We returned to Botswana for a third year, living in Gaborone. Neil worked for Department of Town and Regional Planning in 1977.
Shortly after our return to Canada, with the encouragement of Peter Adams, Geography Prof at Trent (and later on MP), Neil decided to complete his Masters. He returned to Botswana with some anthropology graduate students for three months in the spring of 1978. He used his cartography skills to map the findings of the students and was also given time to collect data for his Master’s thesis, which in a nutshell was about using Remote Sensing to find the best spots to dig boreholes.
Neil, from Peterborough Ontario, arrived in Botswana in September 1974. He had just finished his Bachelor of Science at Trent. He was placed in Good Hope as a District Officer, and worked with the Land Board settling land disputes. I recall him saying he literally paced out the boundaries, then drew corresponding maps where this information was recorded. He loved the slower pace of life, relaxed atmosphere and experiencing the Botswana way of life, and the many friendships he developed.
As mentioned in my Bio, Neil met me in Botswana and in December 1976 we returned briefly to Canada and were married with family and a couple of close friends in attendance. We returned to Botswana for a third year, living in Gaborone. Neil worked for Department of Town and Regional Planning in 1977.
Shortly after our return to Canada, with the encouragement of Peter Adams, Geography Prof at Trent (and later on MP), Neil decided to complete his Masters. He returned to Botswana with some anthropology graduate students for three months in the spring of 1978. He used his cartography skills to map the findings of the students and was also given time to collect data for his Master’s thesis, which in a nutshell was about using Remote Sensing to find the best spots to dig boreholes.
Neil decided to take up running while in Botswana and continued with that sport on our return to Canada. It started out solely for fitness, but he excelled at it, so started entering races, often coming in first or placing in his age category. We had boxes and boxes of his medals and trophies and of course T-shirts from the races. His favourite distance was 10k, but he also liked to run the half marathon at the Ottawa Marathon. He was also part of a team a couple times that ran the Banff to Jasper Relay and the Cabot Trail relay. He found all the steep inclines challenging and exhilarating. He was light on his feet and built like a runner. I tried taking up the sport, but it didn’t work for me. I do however have good memories of biking alongside him on some of his runs. He made many friends within the running community and enjoyed his “Saturday Morning Running Group” where members took turns planning the route and where to have breakfast afterward. Neil also enjoyed cycling with some of the friends from that group.
In 2010 Neil was diagnosed with Stage 4 Squamous Cell Skin Cancer, which travelled inward along the optic nerve and touched the Dura. This meant Neil could no longer run or drive a car, and had to give up his job of teaching Continuing Education at Conestoga College. For 1½ years he courageously battled this invasive cancer, enduring surgery, radiation and chemo (twice) but never complained, and remained hopeful and positive until the end. We made sure he got to see his running and other friends as much as possible when he felt up to it.
Since his passing, each year in May, Baden Race, part of Run Waterloo Inc., has a Neil Dunford 5k Memorial Run. My family members and many of his running friends run it each year. Another thing we as a family do each December is to continue to host “The Dunford Mile.” For about 10 years before his passing Neil used to invite his running friends to our home for a race. He wanted to organize a race where everyone could come across the finish line at the same time, so he had everyone predict their time and had a staggered start. It didn’t work perfectly but it was a great time. Prizes were given to those who came closest to their predicted time. This was followed by a big breakfast.
Since his passing, each year in May, Baden Race, part of Run Waterloo Inc., has a Neil Dunford 5k Memorial Run. My family members and many of his running friends run it each year. Another thing we as a family do each December is to continue to host “The Dunford Mile.” For about 10 years before his passing Neil used to invite his running friends to our home for a race. He wanted to organize a race where everyone could come across the finish line at the same time, so he had everyone predict their time and had a staggered start. It didn’t work perfectly but it was a great time. Prizes were given to those who came closest to their predicted time. This was followed by a big breakfast.
Neil’s last race in Ottawa. He was too weak to participate in the half marathon he had signed up for, but his grandson Joseph wanted to run the 2k, and Neil wanted to run alongside him. Also in the picture is my son-in-law John Gagnon, who took up running once he met Neil, and is now an avid runner.
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We cherish our memories of Neil. He never got to meet his third grandchild, Henry Neil, but had the pleasure of being a wonderful grandparent to Joseph and Ivy. We are grateful he had a very peaceful passing and that we all had our chances to say goodbye.
by Bruce Beamer, Slave Lake, Alberta (written in 2014)
I met Wain when he first arrived at Molefi Secondary School in Mochudi, Botswana, in August 1972. He was an only child to a couple who were in their 40s when they had Wain. Wain's dad was a typesetter at the Toronto Daily Star newspaper. Wain was very sheltered. He did not know how to crack an egg before you put it in the pan. He had notes for everything: how to light a lantern, etc. He begged to stay with me. There were tears in his eyes. I was in no mood to babysit this geek. I'll always remember walking by Wain's new home that had no electricity. He was forlornly eating his supper with a fork in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He became an excellent cook. He made his first batch of cookies which expanded into one giant cookie. He offered the cookie to a teacher colleague who ate the entire thing. Wain was delighted. Yes, Manseke was Wain's Tswana nickname. The way I heard it, his students called him Manseke because he looked like a big rat that moved fast. There was no negative connotation about looking like a rat. Our students loved everyone. They were from villages in the bush and they were speaking English full-time for the first time in Form 1 (Grade 9). I was honoured to learn to teach in Botswana.
Wain volunteered with CUSO for 3 years. He returned to Canada. Somehow he ended up in Botton Village in Yorkshire. It was a Christian community with adults with special needs. It was part of the Camphill Trust. The staff were volunteers. It became Wain's home. Wain became the librarian. He had an inheritance from his mother that he would use to travel the world visiting Camphill Trust people. I met Wain and his goddaughter at Banff, Alberta, on September 1st, 2008. It was snowing. Wain had survived one bout with cancer. Wain was child-like all his life. Astrology was always part of Wain's life. He was always looking for his true love until he died. CUSO changed my life as it did Wain's. For such a meek looking guy, Wain was a brave heart.
Added by Bruce for the CUSOBOT Reunion (2019)
I can't emphasize how special and spiritual Wain was. I feel so humble to have known him. He was on his own spiritual path and how steadfast his mission was. Wayne is another splendid example of a CUSO volunteer who went on to have an honourable and inspiring career. I'm sure that Wain is still doing astrological charts. Wain told me that I would come into my own in my later years. I've been on a roll since I retired. Hassim (Chuck) Ravat was a major influence many years later in Alberta. Life is good. Love you all. Thanks.
by Margaret Griffiths, "Camphill Correspondence," March/April 2014 (page 12)
Wain Farrants died peacefully in hospital at around 9 am January 19, 2014. He was sixty-five years old. Wain came to Botton in the 1970s from Canada and has very much been part of Camphill life ever since. After a short interlude at Ringwood where he attended the eurythmy school, Wain returned to Botton in 2001. While in Ringwood he became so ill with cancer that he received the last anointing. Wain famously said that he knew he would recover as it was not his time yet. Wain was well known for his great love of anthroposophy and of the stars. His interest in astrology led him to complete many people's horoscopes and it was not uncommon for new mothers to receive a horoscope for their newborn babies when they arrived. Wain became synonymous with our bookshop in Botton, well-known worldwide for his knowledge of anthroposophical books and his willingness and ability to obtain them for anyone! Wain was able to acknowledge all the love and support that people have sent to him over the last week in hospital and was immensely grateful for this.
by Harry Finnigan, Winnipeg, Manitoba, April 20, 2019 (for the CUSOBOT Reunion)
Wain Farrants, who was part of our CUSO group that arrived in Botswana in August, 1972, was unusual in so many ways.
Wain was a meek and mild gentleman. From the outset, many of us worried about him and his ability to survive the new challenging experience he had decided to embark upon. While we all had to deal with the incredible challenges inherent in culture shock, Wain, the epitome of a “fish out of water,” also had to get used to living on his own (including learning how to cook).
Wain came to Botswana with a Masters degree in mathematics from the University of Toronto, together with a very deep knowledge of astrology. It was the latter that profoundly influenced his own unique approach to life. When I asked what prompted him to come to Africa, Wain explained that the stars had told him to move to the southern hemisphere. From later conversations, I gathered that he seemed to make many daily decisions based on astrology.
Given that until Botswana, he had never developed any life skills to speak of, it was not a surprise for us to learn that, at least for the first few weeks of his life in the country, Wain survived on a steady dose of bananas and jello. Nevertheless, Wain beat the odds. Not only did he survive in Botswana, he thrived – learning to cook and becoming a much-respected teacher along the way! The stars were truly shining on him.
In early 1974, upon learning that Elvira was expecting, Wain encouraged me to make a point of checking my watch the minute our baby was born, and to then let him know the time so that he could construct an astrological chart for our new born. Perhaps one of his first such charts?
About three months after Shaun’s birth, a 2-page, nicely hand-written, astrological chart arrived to our P.O. Box in Francistown. I had made good on my promise to provide Wain with the exact time that Shaun was born, and he made good on his promise to construct an astrological chart. The chart itself was fascinating, particularly when read many years later.
At the turn of this century, after Shaun had already worked with CUSO for two years in Santiago, Chile, we gave him the original copy of the chart. He, and our whole family, were so impressed at how accurately it described the person that our son had come to be! Wain correctly predicted that Shaun, now an artist, would be “more like Elvira than Harry.” The chart also noted that Africa would not be the only time that Shaun would live in the southern hemisphere.
Elvira and I sheepishly admit to being regular readers of the daily horoscopes that are published in the Winnipeg Free Press. While I suspect that he would pooh-pooh these popularized connections to astrology, they often prompt me to think of Wain – his strong commitment to that mysterious world, its impact on his way of thinking and how he lived his life.
From the obituary published in the Toronto Star on December 8, 2012
Pansy attended Maritime Business College in Halifax and later received a diploma in Public Administration from Dalhousie University. From 1943 to 1974, she worked for the Municipality of East Hants and retired as Municipal Clerk Treasurer. She then moved to Botswana, Africa, with CUSO. In 1981, she retired again and moved to Portugal until 1987 when she returned to Canada, making her home in Toronto. Pansy was the first woman President and later an honorary life member of the Municipal Finance Officers Association of Nova Scotia and an honorary life member of the Nova Scotia Association of Municipal Administrators. She was a very active member of the United Church of Canada, and a life member of the UCW. She also greatly enjoyed golfing with her Florida and River Oaks (Nova Scotia) friends. Pansy was a master bridge player and enjoyed games with her many friends in Toronto, in Nova Scotia at her beloved Martinique Beach cottage, and with others around the world.
"Remembering Pansy Flemming," by Ozzie Schmidt, CUSO Co-FSO
This tribute draws on an article Pansy wrote for Monday Morning's August-September 1977 issue on the theme "What do people do all day?"
Pansy’s professional background, described above, shows just how uniquely she was qualified to contribute to the delivery of municipal services in Botswana. Pansy joined CUSO in 1975, first as Lobatse’s town treasurer and then Administrative Officer (3 months of which time was spent in Francistown as Acting Town treasurer). In January 1977 she shifted from Local Government to Central Government as Personnel Officer, Training, Unified Local Government Services. There was then an immediate and desperate need for training of persons already in the Treasury Departments of the 13 Councils. Training courses for accountants, in conjunction with the Botswana Training Centre, were 6 months long. In an ordinary course, there might be as many as two dozen different lecturers or panel members. She ran, with the Institute of Development, 5 “Know Your Role” seminars for Councillors and staff. She was busy. A hard-working person was Pansy at all times. Pleasant, cheerful, thoughtful, open to the ideas of others, and at the same time she was a no-nonsense, practical person. She had the ability to read where a person was at, and what next steps to follow to enable them to become more capable, competent. A fine human being.
Shirley Dunford, who arrived in Botswana with Pansy Flemming in October 1974, writes:
Pansy was a hard worker and friend to many. After her return to Canada, Neil and I visited with her a few times … once out East, where she lived close to Halifax, and several times when she lived in Toronto with her daughter Corinne.
PETER GILLESPIE
Died on May 22, 2015, in Ottawa THEN
1981–85, Coordinator, Mahalapye Development Trust, Mahalapye and Gaborone Among the projects of the Mahalapye Development Trust were:
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April 1984, Kanye. Zoleka Kowa, Lu's maid of honour, Peter and Lu on their wedding day
April 1984. At the wedding, left to right: John Saxby, Richard Marquardt?, Peter Meisenheimer, Peter Gillespie
1984. Lu, Peter, and Lu's son Thato on their honeymoon in Kasane
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Peter was born in Guelph, Ontario. While a CUSO volunteer in Botswana, he met and married Lulama Tobo. In the mid-1980s, they returned to Canada to raise a family, and Peter began work with Inter Pares. For the next 30 years Peter worked with anti-poverty organizations, human rights groups and pro-democracy movements in Asia and Africa. He was well-known for his work with the ethnic nationalities of Burma (Myanmar) and was instrumental in promoting Canadian support of refugees and displaced people from that country. He walked into remote jungle regions to meet with displaced people and recounted their stories in his writings and in meetings with officials and parliamentarians.
Over the years at Inter Pares, Peter brought his passion, courage, talent, and deep commitment to social justice to many issues and struggles around the world. Most notable among these were his years collaborating with civil society organizations in Bangladesh, building movements for food sovereignty, landless rights, and democracy. In recent years, he was very involved in bringing public attention to the consequences of the massive illegal outflow of resources from developing countries into the global financial system. He relentlessly promoted human rights, raising millions of dollars to support refugees and displaced people. His solidarity with sugar workers in the Philippines contributed to transforming a feudal system and gaining rights to their land. His work in drawing public and government attention to the consequences of massive capital flight and tax evasion from developing countries into the global financial system. Throughout, he was also a staunch ally and supporter of women’s struggles for justice and autonomy, both in Canada and abroad. Peter died on May 22, 2015. He left his loving life partner Lulama Tobo-Gillespie and children Thato, Letso, Tebogo, Kagiso and Lexxus. Peter loved to garden, play guitar, read and meet with his book club buddies to debate the issues of the day. Most of all, he loved to watch his children grow into smart and accomplished young people. With thanks to Peter himself and his beloved Lu. The Gillespie family in 2016, left to right: Tebogo, Baby Locklan, Lexxus, Lulama, Thato, Letso, Kagiso
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SANDY GRANT
Born May 8, 1937 in South London, England Died May 14, 2021 in Botswana THEN
1963–68, Coordinator of Refugee/Community Centre, Mochudi 1968–74, Development Organiser, Botswana Christian Council 1975–2007, Founder and Director of Puthadikobo Museum, Mochudi Sandy was not with CUSO but was known to to many CUSO people over the years. |
Sandy Grant
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Written by Tom Holzinger
Of Scottish ancestry, Sandy Ludovic Hamlyn Grant was born on 8th May 1937 in South London, the last-born son of a publican, with an older brother and sister. He moved between several English towns as he grew up. He went to secondary school in Devon, where he was a fine cricketer. After doing his UK national service, he studied history at Cambridge, where he developed a lifetime interest in buildings and the built environment.
After two years of travel and work, his call came. Sandy was recruited in 1963 to establish a Refugee/Community Centre in Mochudi, to help those fleeing from apartheid in South Africa. Chief Linchwe II had promised to be a sponsor. As soon as the 26-year-old Sandy arrived, the village sparked his love affair with Batswana and their culture that lasted for almost 60 years.
The Community Centre in Mochudi soon grew to include aid for refugees, education and recreation for local youth, and several kinds of skills training. Everyone recognized Sandy as its driving force; his quick and close friendship with the young Linchwe worked to his advantage. (There are parallels with Seretse Khama and Patrick van Rensburg in Serowe, a partnership that flowered at the same time).
Sandy was a gregarious man who loved nothing more than a group of friends and a drink, usually accompanied by a good argument. On my first trip to Mochudi I met Sandy in a bar, debating with Linchwe and his hangers-on. Because it was rare in the old Bechuanaland for an expatriate to socialise with locals in this way, Sandy stood out.
Later, after Linchwe was appointed ambassador to the US and UN, I again witnessed the sparring between Linchwe and Sandy. Amilcar Cabral, one of Africa’s great revolutionaries, had just been killed by a Portuguese bomb. The Portuguese had put out disinformation that Cabral died in a dispute with fellow rebels. Speaking to the group, Linchwe said, “It seems he was killed by his own people.” Sandy turned on him with real feeling. “If you’re going to be a decent ambassador, you’d better learn not to believe such lies.” Linchwe remained silent, knowing that he had been caught out.
Development Organiser, Botswana Christian Council
Though based in Mochudi, Sandy quickly played a role in obtaining famine relief for the country in the terrible drought years 1962–1966. He made contact with external agencies, explained the crisis, and formed a bridge between them and the Bechuanaland administration. In the final year of the drought most families here were receiving food aid to stay alive, even as the country was preparing for Boipuso. (How quickly we have forgotten!)
In 1968 Sandy’s effectiveness led to his accepting the position of Development Organiser for the Botswana Christian Council. Based in a small house behind Gaborone’s central police station, he identified numerous village projects that just needed a little helping hand. Over the next six years Sandy contacted more than 70 such projects and helped them to obtain funding. (See https://bccprojects19711973.wordpress.com for the deep details).
How did he do it? Sandy travelled this country from end to end, always with camera in hand and a dry wit to deal with one and all. He became friends with head teachers, dikgosana, council secretaries, and above all, the young expatriate volunteers who filled many teaching and technical posts. Although he was usually warmly welcomed, he was not everyone’s cup of tea. Old-style colonials and conservative Batswana disliked his manner of sharp questioning, a trait that was both strength and weakness.
The Dutch Reformed minister notably called him “the devil”. By 1974 the Botswana Christian Council had had enough, and his contract was not renewed. Meanwhile, his Gaborone house had become a social hub. For many years a bachelor, Sandy welcomed everyone from across the social spectrum. The young cabinet minister Daniel Kwelagobe often dropped by for lunch, and he and Sandy would argue about government policy. One day Pat van Rensburg and Daniel dropped in at the same time, and a furious row broke out among the three eager debaters. It was Pat who cooled things off by leading the group out into the garden and talking about Botswana’s indigenous plants. It was a useful lesson on creating a diversion.
One of Sandy’s colleagues at the time, Jim Flood, wrote: “The lunch table in his house, often covered in fish and chip wrappers, was a central watering hole in Gaborone. On one occasion Sandy suddenly appeared in a kilt. Presumably he had Scots ancestry and the kilt was in the Grant tartan. It was amazing how many people he knew.”
A Momentous Policy Debate
In 1969 Sandy became embroiled in a new argument, the proposal for an elite private school in Gaborone to be called Maru-a-Pula. David Slater, the school’s historian, has written, “Grant’s objection to MaP came from his distaste for the idea of an exclusive school, in one of the world’s ten poorest countries, that would cater for the privileged few who could afford the fees.”
For the next several years Sandy used his position to block Christian funds from going to Maru-a-Pula. This outraged the principal Deane Yates and the chairman of the local committee, Archie Mogwe, but Sandy was fully supported by students at the new university and by other progressives. In the furious war of words Mogwe terminated the residence permits of several volunteers — including this author! — but Sandy was not touched.
At that time the self-help schools of Swaneng Hill and Shashe River offered a well-known educational alternative. Many believed this model had the potential to bring secondary education to all. Sandy wrote several powerful articles comparing the two approaches, and he continued to do so for years afterwards.
Sandy was a natural supporter of Pat and Liz van Rensburg’s Swaneng projects, and remained so throughout. Early on he helped raise money and publicise Swaneng’s successes overseas. Like Pat, he had strong anti-elitist views. In their later years Sandy called Pat “old fruit” and Pat called Sandy “old fossil”, maintaining their friendship in a peculiarly English way.
The Bagnall Letters
If he was friends with the van Rensburg family, he was even closer to Swaneng’s vice-principal, Sheila Bagnall. For six years they travelled and socialised together without admitting their obvious relationship. After Sheila’s death in 1998, Sandy obtained her letters and published them after two years of meticulous editing. Many of us wondered if he had removed any intimate disclosures. We found out in 2009 when Sheila’s other lover consulted the original letters in the UB library. No, he reported, the letters contained no sex-drenched details. It seemed a pity.
Sheila’s letters naturally contained many references to Sandy. On their first weekend together, in April 1967, they drove from Mochudi to Artesia looking for a good time. (This is true!) What they got were heavy late rains that turned everything to mud. Sheila wrote wryly that it had been an adventure.
Sheila also wrote about his job with the Christian Council: “He always thinks entirely in terms of African welfare and will fight any battle on that front. Of all the white people I know in Botswana, he is the one who is most concerned with the plight of individuals. He has shown me lots of things — the odd little school with a progressive teacher, the way a dam has been allowed to get into disrepair, and so on. But in some ways he is his own worst enemy, constantly decrying what he does and terribly aware of what he is not able to do.”
This was also the most socially active time in Sandy’s life. He was a fixture at both European and Batswana parties; his own parties were always mixed. Here is Sheila again: “We fled to the President Hotel, where we had an uproarious party with Chief Linchwe, his wife, Ishmael Matlhaku, and assorted Batswana. I have never known Sandy so gay before. He did wild ballet dances around the President Lounge, fantastic imitations of British colonels inspecting the troops, and generally went mad.”
At work and at play, human welfare was always on his mind. From Sheila in late 1969: “We went to the tiny village of Mogoditshane. [!] This is where Sandy had rallied the people to raise money to buy piping and then dig three miles of trench. Water Affairs took over and now, 18 months later, the village still has no water. [The next day] Sandy went to Water Affairs and dragged the top brass out to Mogoditshane. They promised immediate action.”
A Museum, a Family, and an Election
In 1975, after the Christian Council job, Sandy did a course in Edinburgh on conserving old buildings, receiving an MSc. He also had a chance to spend time with family in London, where his father still kept a pub. Leloba Molema remembers that time: “Sandy was not much older than me. He eased my way into London when I was a needful, thoroughly culture-shocked student from Ditlharapeng ... I met his father, a publican, tall like Sandy, with flowing white hair. Yes, I drank ale in Sandy's Dad's pub and Falstaff fell a bit into place for me.”
Upon his return to Botswana he moved back to Mochudi and researched and recorded Bakgatla history and culture. He was initiated into the Mathulwa mophato. He nurtured a long-distance correspondence with the legendary Isaac Schapera, the scholar who put Tswana traditional law into written form. With help from senior men like Kgosi Linchwe and Amos Kgamanyane Pilane, he restored the abandoned National School in Mochudi as a Bakgatla community museum, the renowned Phuthadikobo Museum. It was the first of its kind in Botswana. Upon its opening in 1978 it was acclaimed as a triumph of architecture and the visual arts, but it was also a tribute to Sandy’s heroic efforts.
Sandy went on to learn the morafe’s history in detail, especially through long discussions with Kgamanyane. Sandy was interested in everything from bogwera and bojale to the arrival of the ZCC. He helped to start an historical association, a forerunner of the Botswana Society. Over the years he contributed many articles and short reports to Botswana Notes and Records, the Society’s academic publication. In this sphere he was always helpful, enthusiastic, and generous. He became personal friends with the professional historians of the region, linking them in a broad network of shared interests. Consulting them for this article, many of them said, “I emailed him only last week …” His correspondence was prodigious.
At the Museum, Sandy surprised his friends when he recruited a long-term partner, Elinah Masitara, and married her in 1989. He legally adopted her son Zipho. Their son together, Alex Setso, was born in 1991. In 1995 the family moved to Oodi and into a permanent home. In 1998 Elinah became the museum’s director, allowing Sandy to take on other projects.
One of his colleagues in development work was Batsweleng M Batsweleng, the chief Community Development officer in the Kgatleng. “We used to work hand-in-hand to assist community organisations,” he says. “Sandy helped with funding applications to the Council. His estimates were always exact. We knew we could trust him.” Batsweleng also directed council money to the Museum, one of its few sources of local funding at that time.
National Recognition and a Newspaper Column
In 1982 Sandy applied for and received Botswana citizenship. When independent newspapers started up in the early 1980s in Gaborone, Sandy championed them. He was a good friend to pioneer Brian Egner of The Examiner and van Rensburg of Mmegi. He himself was soon to become one of Botswana’s best-known weekly columnists.
In 1984 Sandy registered himself as an independent candidate for MP in a Mochudi constituency. He chose the kgabo as his campaign symbol. Festus Mogae, director of the Electoral Commission, disallowed it, saying it was an abuse of a traditional totem. Sandy accepted the decision and chose the leitlho (eye) instead. Although he lost the election badly, he continued to use leitlho ever after.
That was not Sandy’s last connection to the Independent Electoral Commission. He served on it in the early 2000s, doing an honourable job. I remember receiving an urgent message from Sandy while in Canada: Please bring back a copy of the famous Canadian TV series, Democracy. He wanted to show it to the whole Commission. Its opening scene shows Batswana in kgotla, as an example of pure face-to-face democracy.
When the schoolgirl, Segametsi Mogomotsi, was ritually murdered in Mochudi in 1994, Sandy knew personally all of the popular suspects: settled refugees, business owners, royals. Some were threatened by an outraged mob. Sandy wrote several times about the events of those days, but he never revealed his own suspicions. (Likewise the authorities never published the police reports. Who were the guilty VIPs?)
A high point in Sandy’s public recognition came in 2003 when Festus Mogae awarded him the Presidential Order of Honour. There was very little ceremony. “There were just the two of us in the room [Sandy and Nicky Oppenheimer, co-owner of DeBeers] with Festus and a few officers,” Sandy recounted. “Festus called us forward to take the certificates from him, and we shook his hand. That was it.” In retrospect — after it was revealed how much money Oppenheimer had stolen from Botswana, and had plans to steal more — this ceremony seems ironic.
Sandy and Elinah published a book of photographs together in 1995, Decorated Homes in Botswana, a loving portrait of the art of traditional designs executed in smeared mud. At this time Sandy was also writing a weekly column for the Midweek Sun, called “Etcetera”, making this was a particularly fruitful period of his life. Later the column moved to Mmegi where it was called “Etcetera II”, and it pulled no punches. You could count on Sandy for a fierce denunciation of the injustices of the day, of which there were plenty.
When several hundred youth mobbed the Tlokweng Land Board, hungry for land, Sandy was one of the first to point to the growing crisis over the unfair and unequal distribution of land. (We may note that since then, youth have remained frustrated whereas Mr Jamal has only increased his holdings in Tlokweng). His was also the strongest voice when the Gaborone dam dried up. “We simply cannot go on as before,” he wrote, arguing for drastic new water policies to cut consumption. Closest to the bone, he denounced the growing problems of corruption and inequality in column after column.
Rough Times and Reconciliation
For this and other reasons, voices of dissatisfaction with Sandy and Elinah arose in both Mochudi and Gaborone concerning Phuthadikobo. Sandy, it was felt, had become high-handed. After Linchwe’s death in 2007, he received rough treatment from the newly installed Kgosikgolo. The young Kgafela II told Sandy bluntly, “You can now give my museum back to me” — an insult that was not taken lightly. His and Elinah’s position became untenable, and they were forced to resign amongst bitterness on all sides.
A couple of years later Sandy was still so bitter and relentlessly critical that this author had to break off conversation with him. He complained that Linchwe had once given him a fine plot in the middle of Mochudi; the Land Board refused to recognise it. Sandy’s bad patch lasted for several years, during which time Elinah feared their marriage might break apart.
But he gradually returned to his equilibrium and began the final phase of his work, putting his life’s efforts into perspective via a series of books, the first in 2012, the last one still at the printer’s when he died. These books included two short popular histories of Botswana, a book of photographs, and a longer personal memoir, Botswana: Choice and Opportunity: A Memoir 1963-2018. It is this last volume that best gives the flavour of the man.
Warm as he was, Sandy often had little intuition into the feelings and motives of others, leading to misunderstandings. He did not like to be the first one to apologise. Words like crusty, prickly, stubborn, were regularly applied to him — especially by his expatriate friends. His enemies were more likely to call him arrogant.
Sandy’s university manners confused Europeans, especially his fellow Brits. It was a trick that he learned as a middle-class boy at Cambridge. When dealing with authority, Sandy knew how to straighten his back, lift an eyebrow, tweak his accent, and use body language to show his right to command. It helped him to obtain results with the bureaucracy. How good was his imitation of a gentleman? Following his death, one of his oldest friends wrote to me from England, “Sandy was solidly upper-middle class British and I very much doubt his father ran a pub!”
In the 2000s the Gaborone elite often chattered about a powerful politician and his personal assistant. Sandy was embarrassingly slow to catch on, until someone told him point-blank what was going on. I saw him shortly thereafter. He exclaimed over and over, in the joy of sudden revelation, “So ----- is the wife! So ----- is the wife!” We had a good laugh.
In his short pieces and emails, Sandy often used exaggeration. At the height of our HIV/AIDS crisis, with dozens of funerals every weekend, I asked Sandy how his sons Zipho and Setso felt about the future. They know they’re going to die!” he almost shouted. He didn’t often let such feelings show. A few months later, of course, ARVs appeared, and Batswana gradually became less anxious.
This author sometimes worried about Sandy’s journalistic methods. He took shortcuts to meet deadlines and substituted assumptions and questions for research. But as one friend wrote, “He had a feel for the story.” When you read a Grant column, you knew what the point was. As another friend said, “Sandy was … pugnacious and a contrarian, someone who delighted in shooting down careless or half-baked ideas. You could get away with nothing with him.”
The Mellow Years in Oodi
After the move to Oodi, Sandy saw somewhat less of his Tswana friends and somewhat more of his expat friends. He became a guru to newly arriving volunteers, aid workers, and other professionals. When the expats left Botswana, they often kept in touch with Sandy. When they returned for a nostalgic visit, they headed straight to Oodi and his welcoming door.
The head of the Canadian volunteer agency, Helmut Kuhn, writes: “Sandy was among the first persons I contacted when I arrived in Botswana in 1971. The way I developed CUSOBOT in those first few years owed a lot to Sandy's guidance. He helped us get started on the right foot and to fall in love with the country and its ways.”
His and Elinah’s hospitality was famous. Whole families of overseas visitors sometimes stayed with them, and the Grant family coped. It took a toll on their finances, but Sandy tried to appear unconcerned. When he had enough money he never mentioned it; the question only came up when he was short.
Sandy distrusted new technologies. He agreed to have a television for the news and the cricket. His first attempt at digitising his slides and negatives went quite badly, because he didn’t know what “high resolution” meant. Famously, he refused to own a cell phone right to the end of his life. It was a constant problem for family, friends, and editors when they needed to find him in Gaborone. We may be thankful that he made a successful transition to email.
Sandy had definite cultural preferences, both high and low. He enjoyed hanging out with Tswana royalty as well as commoners. He continued to love cricket but took no interest in football. He loved good food but couldn’t cook. His music of choice was classical music from the west. His clothes scarcely mattered. The visual arts of all kinds excited him, and he photographed them exhaustively. In 2014 he discovered that a Baronet Ludovic Grant had travelled from Scotland to America and had married a full-blooded Cherokee. Sandy loved the idea that he had Cherokee cousins.
Like his own father, Sandy wanted Setso to have the best education. This included private schools in Gaborone and Mahikeng. But when it came time for A-levels, Sandy enrolled him in Maru-a-Pula. What irony! Had Sandy changed? He told me that the school had changed, that its Maitisong program had made it more relevant, and that he still had some reservations.
Legacy
Sandy was famous for thrashing government departments in his weekly columns, but his favourite whipping boy was the National Museum. He felt it had let the country down. When it held its 50th anniversary, Sandy wrote a particularly acid attack to mark the occasion, and his column rather spoiled the party. In 2020, however, the Museum announced plans for a major overhaul. Sandy’s criticisms had been taken to heart.
Sandy’s final major article appeared in January this year, a review of the biography of Patrick van Rensburg. All of his major themes were there: Botswana’s poor, government malfeasance, skills training and local production, corruption, inequality. His concluding words about Pat could apply to himself: “It is possible that, with time, he will be forgotten. It is also possible, however, that in future the country’s unemployable youth will come to see him as an inspiration … For the greedy, the acquisitive and unnecessarily rich, he will always be a reproach.”
Sandy Grant died on Friday 14th May, just after his 84th birthday, from complications of surgery. He is survived by his wife Elinah, sons Zipho and Alexander Setso, and grandchild Leano. The flood of tributes from all over the world has been unprecedented in recent times. David Slater summed it up well: “An amazing man who leaves an amazing legacy. If you have not heard of Sandy Grant, remember that name and what he did for Botswana.” Robala ka kagiso.
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In addition to the persons named in the above article, the author wishes to give his warm thanks to Vernon Gibberd, Pierre Landell-Mills, Wame Molefhe, Neil Parsons, and Jeff Ramsay for information about Sandy’s life and accomplishments.
Of Scottish ancestry, Sandy Ludovic Hamlyn Grant was born on 8th May 1937 in South London, the last-born son of a publican, with an older brother and sister. He moved between several English towns as he grew up. He went to secondary school in Devon, where he was a fine cricketer. After doing his UK national service, he studied history at Cambridge, where he developed a lifetime interest in buildings and the built environment.
After two years of travel and work, his call came. Sandy was recruited in 1963 to establish a Refugee/Community Centre in Mochudi, to help those fleeing from apartheid in South Africa. Chief Linchwe II had promised to be a sponsor. As soon as the 26-year-old Sandy arrived, the village sparked his love affair with Batswana and their culture that lasted for almost 60 years.
The Community Centre in Mochudi soon grew to include aid for refugees, education and recreation for local youth, and several kinds of skills training. Everyone recognized Sandy as its driving force; his quick and close friendship with the young Linchwe worked to his advantage. (There are parallels with Seretse Khama and Patrick van Rensburg in Serowe, a partnership that flowered at the same time).
Sandy was a gregarious man who loved nothing more than a group of friends and a drink, usually accompanied by a good argument. On my first trip to Mochudi I met Sandy in a bar, debating with Linchwe and his hangers-on. Because it was rare in the old Bechuanaland for an expatriate to socialise with locals in this way, Sandy stood out.
Later, after Linchwe was appointed ambassador to the US and UN, I again witnessed the sparring between Linchwe and Sandy. Amilcar Cabral, one of Africa’s great revolutionaries, had just been killed by a Portuguese bomb. The Portuguese had put out disinformation that Cabral died in a dispute with fellow rebels. Speaking to the group, Linchwe said, “It seems he was killed by his own people.” Sandy turned on him with real feeling. “If you’re going to be a decent ambassador, you’d better learn not to believe such lies.” Linchwe remained silent, knowing that he had been caught out.
Development Organiser, Botswana Christian Council
Though based in Mochudi, Sandy quickly played a role in obtaining famine relief for the country in the terrible drought years 1962–1966. He made contact with external agencies, explained the crisis, and formed a bridge between them and the Bechuanaland administration. In the final year of the drought most families here were receiving food aid to stay alive, even as the country was preparing for Boipuso. (How quickly we have forgotten!)
In 1968 Sandy’s effectiveness led to his accepting the position of Development Organiser for the Botswana Christian Council. Based in a small house behind Gaborone’s central police station, he identified numerous village projects that just needed a little helping hand. Over the next six years Sandy contacted more than 70 such projects and helped them to obtain funding. (See https://bccprojects19711973.wordpress.com for the deep details).
How did he do it? Sandy travelled this country from end to end, always with camera in hand and a dry wit to deal with one and all. He became friends with head teachers, dikgosana, council secretaries, and above all, the young expatriate volunteers who filled many teaching and technical posts. Although he was usually warmly welcomed, he was not everyone’s cup of tea. Old-style colonials and conservative Batswana disliked his manner of sharp questioning, a trait that was both strength and weakness.
The Dutch Reformed minister notably called him “the devil”. By 1974 the Botswana Christian Council had had enough, and his contract was not renewed. Meanwhile, his Gaborone house had become a social hub. For many years a bachelor, Sandy welcomed everyone from across the social spectrum. The young cabinet minister Daniel Kwelagobe often dropped by for lunch, and he and Sandy would argue about government policy. One day Pat van Rensburg and Daniel dropped in at the same time, and a furious row broke out among the three eager debaters. It was Pat who cooled things off by leading the group out into the garden and talking about Botswana’s indigenous plants. It was a useful lesson on creating a diversion.
One of Sandy’s colleagues at the time, Jim Flood, wrote: “The lunch table in his house, often covered in fish and chip wrappers, was a central watering hole in Gaborone. On one occasion Sandy suddenly appeared in a kilt. Presumably he had Scots ancestry and the kilt was in the Grant tartan. It was amazing how many people he knew.”
A Momentous Policy Debate
In 1969 Sandy became embroiled in a new argument, the proposal for an elite private school in Gaborone to be called Maru-a-Pula. David Slater, the school’s historian, has written, “Grant’s objection to MaP came from his distaste for the idea of an exclusive school, in one of the world’s ten poorest countries, that would cater for the privileged few who could afford the fees.”
For the next several years Sandy used his position to block Christian funds from going to Maru-a-Pula. This outraged the principal Deane Yates and the chairman of the local committee, Archie Mogwe, but Sandy was fully supported by students at the new university and by other progressives. In the furious war of words Mogwe terminated the residence permits of several volunteers — including this author! — but Sandy was not touched.
At that time the self-help schools of Swaneng Hill and Shashe River offered a well-known educational alternative. Many believed this model had the potential to bring secondary education to all. Sandy wrote several powerful articles comparing the two approaches, and he continued to do so for years afterwards.
Sandy was a natural supporter of Pat and Liz van Rensburg’s Swaneng projects, and remained so throughout. Early on he helped raise money and publicise Swaneng’s successes overseas. Like Pat, he had strong anti-elitist views. In their later years Sandy called Pat “old fruit” and Pat called Sandy “old fossil”, maintaining their friendship in a peculiarly English way.
The Bagnall Letters
If he was friends with the van Rensburg family, he was even closer to Swaneng’s vice-principal, Sheila Bagnall. For six years they travelled and socialised together without admitting their obvious relationship. After Sheila’s death in 1998, Sandy obtained her letters and published them after two years of meticulous editing. Many of us wondered if he had removed any intimate disclosures. We found out in 2009 when Sheila’s other lover consulted the original letters in the UB library. No, he reported, the letters contained no sex-drenched details. It seemed a pity.
Sheila’s letters naturally contained many references to Sandy. On their first weekend together, in April 1967, they drove from Mochudi to Artesia looking for a good time. (This is true!) What they got were heavy late rains that turned everything to mud. Sheila wrote wryly that it had been an adventure.
Sheila also wrote about his job with the Christian Council: “He always thinks entirely in terms of African welfare and will fight any battle on that front. Of all the white people I know in Botswana, he is the one who is most concerned with the plight of individuals. He has shown me lots of things — the odd little school with a progressive teacher, the way a dam has been allowed to get into disrepair, and so on. But in some ways he is his own worst enemy, constantly decrying what he does and terribly aware of what he is not able to do.”
This was also the most socially active time in Sandy’s life. He was a fixture at both European and Batswana parties; his own parties were always mixed. Here is Sheila again: “We fled to the President Hotel, where we had an uproarious party with Chief Linchwe, his wife, Ishmael Matlhaku, and assorted Batswana. I have never known Sandy so gay before. He did wild ballet dances around the President Lounge, fantastic imitations of British colonels inspecting the troops, and generally went mad.”
At work and at play, human welfare was always on his mind. From Sheila in late 1969: “We went to the tiny village of Mogoditshane. [!] This is where Sandy had rallied the people to raise money to buy piping and then dig three miles of trench. Water Affairs took over and now, 18 months later, the village still has no water. [The next day] Sandy went to Water Affairs and dragged the top brass out to Mogoditshane. They promised immediate action.”
A Museum, a Family, and an Election
In 1975, after the Christian Council job, Sandy did a course in Edinburgh on conserving old buildings, receiving an MSc. He also had a chance to spend time with family in London, where his father still kept a pub. Leloba Molema remembers that time: “Sandy was not much older than me. He eased my way into London when I was a needful, thoroughly culture-shocked student from Ditlharapeng ... I met his father, a publican, tall like Sandy, with flowing white hair. Yes, I drank ale in Sandy's Dad's pub and Falstaff fell a bit into place for me.”
Upon his return to Botswana he moved back to Mochudi and researched and recorded Bakgatla history and culture. He was initiated into the Mathulwa mophato. He nurtured a long-distance correspondence with the legendary Isaac Schapera, the scholar who put Tswana traditional law into written form. With help from senior men like Kgosi Linchwe and Amos Kgamanyane Pilane, he restored the abandoned National School in Mochudi as a Bakgatla community museum, the renowned Phuthadikobo Museum. It was the first of its kind in Botswana. Upon its opening in 1978 it was acclaimed as a triumph of architecture and the visual arts, but it was also a tribute to Sandy’s heroic efforts.
Sandy went on to learn the morafe’s history in detail, especially through long discussions with Kgamanyane. Sandy was interested in everything from bogwera and bojale to the arrival of the ZCC. He helped to start an historical association, a forerunner of the Botswana Society. Over the years he contributed many articles and short reports to Botswana Notes and Records, the Society’s academic publication. In this sphere he was always helpful, enthusiastic, and generous. He became personal friends with the professional historians of the region, linking them in a broad network of shared interests. Consulting them for this article, many of them said, “I emailed him only last week …” His correspondence was prodigious.
At the Museum, Sandy surprised his friends when he recruited a long-term partner, Elinah Masitara, and married her in 1989. He legally adopted her son Zipho. Their son together, Alex Setso, was born in 1991. In 1995 the family moved to Oodi and into a permanent home. In 1998 Elinah became the museum’s director, allowing Sandy to take on other projects.
One of his colleagues in development work was Batsweleng M Batsweleng, the chief Community Development officer in the Kgatleng. “We used to work hand-in-hand to assist community organisations,” he says. “Sandy helped with funding applications to the Council. His estimates were always exact. We knew we could trust him.” Batsweleng also directed council money to the Museum, one of its few sources of local funding at that time.
National Recognition and a Newspaper Column
In 1982 Sandy applied for and received Botswana citizenship. When independent newspapers started up in the early 1980s in Gaborone, Sandy championed them. He was a good friend to pioneer Brian Egner of The Examiner and van Rensburg of Mmegi. He himself was soon to become one of Botswana’s best-known weekly columnists.
In 1984 Sandy registered himself as an independent candidate for MP in a Mochudi constituency. He chose the kgabo as his campaign symbol. Festus Mogae, director of the Electoral Commission, disallowed it, saying it was an abuse of a traditional totem. Sandy accepted the decision and chose the leitlho (eye) instead. Although he lost the election badly, he continued to use leitlho ever after.
That was not Sandy’s last connection to the Independent Electoral Commission. He served on it in the early 2000s, doing an honourable job. I remember receiving an urgent message from Sandy while in Canada: Please bring back a copy of the famous Canadian TV series, Democracy. He wanted to show it to the whole Commission. Its opening scene shows Batswana in kgotla, as an example of pure face-to-face democracy.
When the schoolgirl, Segametsi Mogomotsi, was ritually murdered in Mochudi in 1994, Sandy knew personally all of the popular suspects: settled refugees, business owners, royals. Some were threatened by an outraged mob. Sandy wrote several times about the events of those days, but he never revealed his own suspicions. (Likewise the authorities never published the police reports. Who were the guilty VIPs?)
A high point in Sandy’s public recognition came in 2003 when Festus Mogae awarded him the Presidential Order of Honour. There was very little ceremony. “There were just the two of us in the room [Sandy and Nicky Oppenheimer, co-owner of DeBeers] with Festus and a few officers,” Sandy recounted. “Festus called us forward to take the certificates from him, and we shook his hand. That was it.” In retrospect — after it was revealed how much money Oppenheimer had stolen from Botswana, and had plans to steal more — this ceremony seems ironic.
Sandy and Elinah published a book of photographs together in 1995, Decorated Homes in Botswana, a loving portrait of the art of traditional designs executed in smeared mud. At this time Sandy was also writing a weekly column for the Midweek Sun, called “Etcetera”, making this was a particularly fruitful period of his life. Later the column moved to Mmegi where it was called “Etcetera II”, and it pulled no punches. You could count on Sandy for a fierce denunciation of the injustices of the day, of which there were plenty.
When several hundred youth mobbed the Tlokweng Land Board, hungry for land, Sandy was one of the first to point to the growing crisis over the unfair and unequal distribution of land. (We may note that since then, youth have remained frustrated whereas Mr Jamal has only increased his holdings in Tlokweng). His was also the strongest voice when the Gaborone dam dried up. “We simply cannot go on as before,” he wrote, arguing for drastic new water policies to cut consumption. Closest to the bone, he denounced the growing problems of corruption and inequality in column after column.
Rough Times and Reconciliation
For this and other reasons, voices of dissatisfaction with Sandy and Elinah arose in both Mochudi and Gaborone concerning Phuthadikobo. Sandy, it was felt, had become high-handed. After Linchwe’s death in 2007, he received rough treatment from the newly installed Kgosikgolo. The young Kgafela II told Sandy bluntly, “You can now give my museum back to me” — an insult that was not taken lightly. His and Elinah’s position became untenable, and they were forced to resign amongst bitterness on all sides.
A couple of years later Sandy was still so bitter and relentlessly critical that this author had to break off conversation with him. He complained that Linchwe had once given him a fine plot in the middle of Mochudi; the Land Board refused to recognise it. Sandy’s bad patch lasted for several years, during which time Elinah feared their marriage might break apart.
But he gradually returned to his equilibrium and began the final phase of his work, putting his life’s efforts into perspective via a series of books, the first in 2012, the last one still at the printer’s when he died. These books included two short popular histories of Botswana, a book of photographs, and a longer personal memoir, Botswana: Choice and Opportunity: A Memoir 1963-2018. It is this last volume that best gives the flavour of the man.
Warm as he was, Sandy often had little intuition into the feelings and motives of others, leading to misunderstandings. He did not like to be the first one to apologise. Words like crusty, prickly, stubborn, were regularly applied to him — especially by his expatriate friends. His enemies were more likely to call him arrogant.
Sandy’s university manners confused Europeans, especially his fellow Brits. It was a trick that he learned as a middle-class boy at Cambridge. When dealing with authority, Sandy knew how to straighten his back, lift an eyebrow, tweak his accent, and use body language to show his right to command. It helped him to obtain results with the bureaucracy. How good was his imitation of a gentleman? Following his death, one of his oldest friends wrote to me from England, “Sandy was solidly upper-middle class British and I very much doubt his father ran a pub!”
In the 2000s the Gaborone elite often chattered about a powerful politician and his personal assistant. Sandy was embarrassingly slow to catch on, until someone told him point-blank what was going on. I saw him shortly thereafter. He exclaimed over and over, in the joy of sudden revelation, “So ----- is the wife! So ----- is the wife!” We had a good laugh.
In his short pieces and emails, Sandy often used exaggeration. At the height of our HIV/AIDS crisis, with dozens of funerals every weekend, I asked Sandy how his sons Zipho and Setso felt about the future. They know they’re going to die!” he almost shouted. He didn’t often let such feelings show. A few months later, of course, ARVs appeared, and Batswana gradually became less anxious.
This author sometimes worried about Sandy’s journalistic methods. He took shortcuts to meet deadlines and substituted assumptions and questions for research. But as one friend wrote, “He had a feel for the story.” When you read a Grant column, you knew what the point was. As another friend said, “Sandy was … pugnacious and a contrarian, someone who delighted in shooting down careless or half-baked ideas. You could get away with nothing with him.”
The Mellow Years in Oodi
After the move to Oodi, Sandy saw somewhat less of his Tswana friends and somewhat more of his expat friends. He became a guru to newly arriving volunteers, aid workers, and other professionals. When the expats left Botswana, they often kept in touch with Sandy. When they returned for a nostalgic visit, they headed straight to Oodi and his welcoming door.
The head of the Canadian volunteer agency, Helmut Kuhn, writes: “Sandy was among the first persons I contacted when I arrived in Botswana in 1971. The way I developed CUSOBOT in those first few years owed a lot to Sandy's guidance. He helped us get started on the right foot and to fall in love with the country and its ways.”
His and Elinah’s hospitality was famous. Whole families of overseas visitors sometimes stayed with them, and the Grant family coped. It took a toll on their finances, but Sandy tried to appear unconcerned. When he had enough money he never mentioned it; the question only came up when he was short.
Sandy distrusted new technologies. He agreed to have a television for the news and the cricket. His first attempt at digitising his slides and negatives went quite badly, because he didn’t know what “high resolution” meant. Famously, he refused to own a cell phone right to the end of his life. It was a constant problem for family, friends, and editors when they needed to find him in Gaborone. We may be thankful that he made a successful transition to email.
Sandy had definite cultural preferences, both high and low. He enjoyed hanging out with Tswana royalty as well as commoners. He continued to love cricket but took no interest in football. He loved good food but couldn’t cook. His music of choice was classical music from the west. His clothes scarcely mattered. The visual arts of all kinds excited him, and he photographed them exhaustively. In 2014 he discovered that a Baronet Ludovic Grant had travelled from Scotland to America and had married a full-blooded Cherokee. Sandy loved the idea that he had Cherokee cousins.
Like his own father, Sandy wanted Setso to have the best education. This included private schools in Gaborone and Mahikeng. But when it came time for A-levels, Sandy enrolled him in Maru-a-Pula. What irony! Had Sandy changed? He told me that the school had changed, that its Maitisong program had made it more relevant, and that he still had some reservations.
Legacy
Sandy was famous for thrashing government departments in his weekly columns, but his favourite whipping boy was the National Museum. He felt it had let the country down. When it held its 50th anniversary, Sandy wrote a particularly acid attack to mark the occasion, and his column rather spoiled the party. In 2020, however, the Museum announced plans for a major overhaul. Sandy’s criticisms had been taken to heart.
Sandy’s final major article appeared in January this year, a review of the biography of Patrick van Rensburg. All of his major themes were there: Botswana’s poor, government malfeasance, skills training and local production, corruption, inequality. His concluding words about Pat could apply to himself: “It is possible that, with time, he will be forgotten. It is also possible, however, that in future the country’s unemployable youth will come to see him as an inspiration … For the greedy, the acquisitive and unnecessarily rich, he will always be a reproach.”
Sandy Grant died on Friday 14th May, just after his 84th birthday, from complications of surgery. He is survived by his wife Elinah, sons Zipho and Alexander Setso, and grandchild Leano. The flood of tributes from all over the world has been unprecedented in recent times. David Slater summed it up well: “An amazing man who leaves an amazing legacy. If you have not heard of Sandy Grant, remember that name and what he did for Botswana.” Robala ka kagiso.
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In addition to the persons named in the above article, the author wishes to give his warm thanks to Vernon Gibberd, Pierre Landell-Mills, Wame Molefhe, Neil Parsons, and Jeff Ramsay for information about Sandy’s life and accomplishments.
Tribute by Carol Shepard, 1972-73
Stubborn wonderful Sandy.
I cherish his book with Elinah on Botswana Houses.
I cherish wonderful times with him in Gabs.
One afternoon, he had Hugh and me over to listen to Benjamin Britten's War Requiem. We sat in silence in his small 'downtown' flat, and listened.
Rest in Peace.
Stubborn wonderful Sandy.
I cherish his book with Elinah on Botswana Houses.
I cherish wonderful times with him in Gabs.
One afternoon, he had Hugh and me over to listen to Benjamin Britten's War Requiem. We sat in silence in his small 'downtown' flat, and listened.
Rest in Peace.
Tribute by Helmut Kuhn, 1971-74
Sandy was among the first persons, maybe even the first person, I contacted when I arrived in Botswana in '71. I'm enormously grateful that he got his "Botswana: Choice and Opportunity, A Memoir 1963-2018" published before he died. Since our CUSOBOT reunion, I've been soaking (it's not the word I want, but my memory can rarely find the word it wants any more) myself in memories of Botswana. Two of my favourite dives (to keep the analogy going) were into this book and "Sheila Bagnall's Letters from Botswana," which Sandy put together after she died (and which Allan kindly loaned to me and which I still have!). I'll try to get his "Decorated Homes in Botswana" to add to my enjoyment of these memories. The way I developed CUSBOT in those first few years owed a lot to Sandy's guidance about who and how to relate to the government and other institutions in the country. He was also instrumental in connecting me with Peder Gowenius and subsequently involving us in Letswe la Oodi Weavers. I expect Sandy is remembered by many people in that way, a way that helped us get started on the right foot and to fall in love with the country and its ways. Thank you Sandy.
Sandy was among the first persons, maybe even the first person, I contacted when I arrived in Botswana in '71. I'm enormously grateful that he got his "Botswana: Choice and Opportunity, A Memoir 1963-2018" published before he died. Since our CUSOBOT reunion, I've been soaking (it's not the word I want, but my memory can rarely find the word it wants any more) myself in memories of Botswana. Two of my favourite dives (to keep the analogy going) were into this book and "Sheila Bagnall's Letters from Botswana," which Sandy put together after she died (and which Allan kindly loaned to me and which I still have!). I'll try to get his "Decorated Homes in Botswana" to add to my enjoyment of these memories. The way I developed CUSBOT in those first few years owed a lot to Sandy's guidance about who and how to relate to the government and other institutions in the country. He was also instrumental in connecting me with Peder Gowenius and subsequently involving us in Letswe la Oodi Weavers. I expect Sandy is remembered by many people in that way, a way that helped us get started on the right foot and to fall in love with the country and its ways. Thank you Sandy.
Submitted by Anita Hamilton (Hutchings)
Andrew came to Canada from England in 1961 as a young man of 21, ready to explore a new country. In 1967, he went to work in Tanzania as a CUSO volunteer, doing agricultural extension work in the Kilimanjaro area.
What started as an exploration of the world found in him a passion in his work that defined his life. He was fueled by a deep compassion for those living in poverty in the Third World. From that time on he devoted his energies to providing people with the tools they needed to help themselves to a better life.
Andy's time as a volunteer quickly led to his becoming a field staff officer in Tanzania, followed by continuing on with work in CUSO, Ottawa, upon his return to Canada in 1971.
Andy left CUSO to do a rural needs survey on post-harvest technology in Botswana in 1974. His research ended up having quite dramatic results, well described by Ozzie Schmidt in his “Sorghum Milling in Botswana” in the Stories section.
Upon his return to Canada, he worked at WUSC for several years, during which time we got married in 1977, before starting up his own consulting business: Hamilton International Services. Contracts took him all over the world in various capacities of doing research, NGO evaluations for CIDA and numerous other jobs with NGOs.
To this end, he was gone so frequently that friends in Arnprior made jokes about whether I even had a husband, this mythical figure who would be mentioned but was rarely present. Along with the frequent absences, this galavanting all over the world could only mean one thing – that he was a spy! To those who knew Andy, you'll certainly remember his wicked sense of humour. Postcards began arriving to various friends from “the Buzzard” with messages of “Mission accomplished”; “Have cleaned up our end of Africa – any further assignments?”; or “the Buzzard is in flight.”
Andrew came to Canada from England in 1961 as a young man of 21, ready to explore a new country. In 1967, he went to work in Tanzania as a CUSO volunteer, doing agricultural extension work in the Kilimanjaro area.
What started as an exploration of the world found in him a passion in his work that defined his life. He was fueled by a deep compassion for those living in poverty in the Third World. From that time on he devoted his energies to providing people with the tools they needed to help themselves to a better life.
Andy's time as a volunteer quickly led to his becoming a field staff officer in Tanzania, followed by continuing on with work in CUSO, Ottawa, upon his return to Canada in 1971.
Andy left CUSO to do a rural needs survey on post-harvest technology in Botswana in 1974. His research ended up having quite dramatic results, well described by Ozzie Schmidt in his “Sorghum Milling in Botswana” in the Stories section.
Upon his return to Canada, he worked at WUSC for several years, during which time we got married in 1977, before starting up his own consulting business: Hamilton International Services. Contracts took him all over the world in various capacities of doing research, NGO evaluations for CIDA and numerous other jobs with NGOs.
To this end, he was gone so frequently that friends in Arnprior made jokes about whether I even had a husband, this mythical figure who would be mentioned but was rarely present. Along with the frequent absences, this galavanting all over the world could only mean one thing – that he was a spy! To those who knew Andy, you'll certainly remember his wicked sense of humour. Postcards began arriving to various friends from “the Buzzard” with messages of “Mission accomplished”; “Have cleaned up our end of Africa – any further assignments?”; or “the Buzzard is in flight.”
Further to Andy's angle on life, the way he managed to balance his intense dedication to his work with his quirky, funny (and often crude) way to deal with life in general, I would like to quote from the eulogy Ian Smillie wrote for Andy:
“My memories of Andy go back to 1971 when we were both young recently-returned CUSO field staff, working in the Ottawa office and making plans to save the world. Some of the plans were sketched out in an unofficial and somewhat irreverent CUSO publication we called “The New CUSO Underground.” Until Andy joined the editorial board, nobody knew that CUSO people who had served in East Africa had a sense of humour. Until he joined the editorial Board, we had nobody with the professional expertise to write articles linking the people we liked to criticize with the bodily functions of animals. Andy took the newsletter to levels never before plumbed.”
Prior to his illness with cancer, Andy spent a year and a half working in Kosovo on projects that would help build a civil society in that war-ravaged country, working to unite disparate people through common goals. He had been thinking of retiring but wanted to do “just one more thing.” The work was intense but he was in his element, working with people who shared his ideas and were the movers and shakers in the country.
Andy died on August 15, 2004. According to his wishes, he was cremated. There was no formal burial of his ashes. In death, he wanted to do as he lived and keep traveling the world. Friends and family, who were comfortable with the concept and wanted to participate, were invited to take a little bit of Andrew's ashes and scatter them in their travels in a meaningful way to reflect their relationship with him. He is literally scattered all over this world in too many countries to mention them all. I received ever so many stories about Andy and where and why ashes were distributed in those particular places. It did my heart good.
I also had an oak tree planted at Beechwood Cemetery in Ottawa in his memory. There is a stone with a plaque in front of the tree. Some of his ashes are planted with the tree. Since all the other “scatterings” are anonymous, I wanted to have a place that preserved his name and his time on this earth.
I would like to end with another quote from Ian Smillie's eulogy:
“How lucky we were to go to that CUSO university. How lucky we were to meet one another and work together on important things, and trivial things, and funny things, and to keep renewing those old school ties. How lucky to have lived and worked in places like Tanzania and Botswana and Kosovo, and to make so many good friends and so many good memories. How lucky we have been to know someone like Andy, a man of great strength, great passion, great dedication and great humour.”
Amen.
“My memories of Andy go back to 1971 when we were both young recently-returned CUSO field staff, working in the Ottawa office and making plans to save the world. Some of the plans were sketched out in an unofficial and somewhat irreverent CUSO publication we called “The New CUSO Underground.” Until Andy joined the editorial board, nobody knew that CUSO people who had served in East Africa had a sense of humour. Until he joined the editorial Board, we had nobody with the professional expertise to write articles linking the people we liked to criticize with the bodily functions of animals. Andy took the newsletter to levels never before plumbed.”
Prior to his illness with cancer, Andy spent a year and a half working in Kosovo on projects that would help build a civil society in that war-ravaged country, working to unite disparate people through common goals. He had been thinking of retiring but wanted to do “just one more thing.” The work was intense but he was in his element, working with people who shared his ideas and were the movers and shakers in the country.
Andy died on August 15, 2004. According to his wishes, he was cremated. There was no formal burial of his ashes. In death, he wanted to do as he lived and keep traveling the world. Friends and family, who were comfortable with the concept and wanted to participate, were invited to take a little bit of Andrew's ashes and scatter them in their travels in a meaningful way to reflect their relationship with him. He is literally scattered all over this world in too many countries to mention them all. I received ever so many stories about Andy and where and why ashes were distributed in those particular places. It did my heart good.
I also had an oak tree planted at Beechwood Cemetery in Ottawa in his memory. There is a stone with a plaque in front of the tree. Some of his ashes are planted with the tree. Since all the other “scatterings” are anonymous, I wanted to have a place that preserved his name and his time on this earth.
I would like to end with another quote from Ian Smillie's eulogy:
“How lucky we were to go to that CUSO university. How lucky we were to meet one another and work together on important things, and trivial things, and funny things, and to keep renewing those old school ties. How lucky to have lived and worked in places like Tanzania and Botswana and Kosovo, and to make so many good friends and so many good memories. How lucky we have been to know someone like Andy, a man of great strength, great passion, great dedication and great humour.”
Amen.
LILY CHOLLET HIMBEAULT
Born November 2, 1918, Flat Island, Nfld. Died March 1, 2019, Oliver, B.C. (age 101) NAPOLEON "NAP" HIMBEAULT
Born January 1912, Big Muddy Valley, Near Bengough, Sask. Died October 9, 2007 (age 95) THEN
1970-74, Tutume Brigade |
Nap, building the house at Tutume: installing a door
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Lily, preparing a meal in their Tutume home
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Remembering Nap and Lily, by Don O'Neill, 1970-72
The inaugural group of CUSO volunteers to Botswana (1970) comprised three "older" retired couples, two young newly-married couples, three singles, and one child. Nap and Lily Himbeault were of particular interest to me as Nap was from Assiniboia, only thirty miles from my home area of Lafleche, Southern Saskatchewan. Nap, then about 58 years old, had been married, raised five children, farmed and done local carpentry and construction projects. Lily, originally from Newfoundland, was a teacher in Winnipeg, where she and Nap met and subsequently married about 1966.
Nap and Lily "extended" their volunteer time in Tutume and probably spent four years there. They returned home to Assiniboia for a couple years then went back to Botswana, I believe at the invitation of Dr. Teichler at the hospital in Mochudi. They resided there but travelled to several villages, tending to the maintenance of facilities and equipment at other hospitals. They also worked for about a year in Tanzania, in a rural farming area from where they could see Mt. Kilimanjaro.
Over their retirement years, they occasionally house-sat for a friend in Osoyoos who would "go south" each winter. They eventually bought a trailer home there, where they enjoyed gardening, receiving many visiting friends, and reminiscing about life in Africa. In those years, Lily was a very active volunteer in a local thrift store. Nap played in a band and they travelled to neighbouring communities such as Oliver and Penticton where they enjoyed many a song and dance.
The inaugural group of CUSO volunteers to Botswana (1970) comprised three "older" retired couples, two young newly-married couples, three singles, and one child. Nap and Lily Himbeault were of particular interest to me as Nap was from Assiniboia, only thirty miles from my home area of Lafleche, Southern Saskatchewan. Nap, then about 58 years old, had been married, raised five children, farmed and done local carpentry and construction projects. Lily, originally from Newfoundland, was a teacher in Winnipeg, where she and Nap met and subsequently married about 1966.
Nap and Lily "extended" their volunteer time in Tutume and probably spent four years there. They returned home to Assiniboia for a couple years then went back to Botswana, I believe at the invitation of Dr. Teichler at the hospital in Mochudi. They resided there but travelled to several villages, tending to the maintenance of facilities and equipment at other hospitals. They also worked for about a year in Tanzania, in a rural farming area from where they could see Mt. Kilimanjaro.
Over their retirement years, they occasionally house-sat for a friend in Osoyoos who would "go south" each winter. They eventually bought a trailer home there, where they enjoyed gardening, receiving many visiting friends, and reminiscing about life in Africa. In those years, Lily was a very active volunteer in a local thrift store. Nap played in a band and they travelled to neighbouring communities such as Oliver and Penticton where they enjoyed many a song and dance.
By Allan and Pat Gibbons, 1971-74
It was late 1971 when we first met Nap and Lily Himbeault in Tutume. It was a period of transition when the Botswana Government decided to take over the Tutume Project, which had run into some difficulties. I was recruited to run the secondary school side of what became Tutume Community College and Pat, the English Dept. What great people the Himbeaults were! Lily commanded supplies and stores, keeping detailed accounts and a sharp pencil when it came to expenditures. Nap, like many a Saskatchewan farm boy, was just plain all around 'handy'. He was an excellent carpenter and a master mechanic. I was told that, post Tutume, they were stationed at Mochudi when one day someone mentioned to Nap that there was a donated X-ray machine at the hospital, still in boxes gathering dust. Apparently Nap retrieved the manuals, put the machine together and got it working for them.
Back in Canada, we used to see them at least once a year as they travelled from B.C. or Saskatchewan to Lily's Newfoundland in their fully outfitted camper van. I remember how every morning before breakfast Nap used to stand on his head in our living room. He said it was good for the brain. Our 90 lb. white golden retriever, Riley, would take it as an invitation to play and knock him over, Nap all the time whooping with laughter.
Later in life they spent more of their time in Osoyoos, B.C. Nap skated even into his eighties and Lily had her choirs.
They were good people and did good works. We are better for having known them.
It was late 1971 when we first met Nap and Lily Himbeault in Tutume. It was a period of transition when the Botswana Government decided to take over the Tutume Project, which had run into some difficulties. I was recruited to run the secondary school side of what became Tutume Community College and Pat, the English Dept. What great people the Himbeaults were! Lily commanded supplies and stores, keeping detailed accounts and a sharp pencil when it came to expenditures. Nap, like many a Saskatchewan farm boy, was just plain all around 'handy'. He was an excellent carpenter and a master mechanic. I was told that, post Tutume, they were stationed at Mochudi when one day someone mentioned to Nap that there was a donated X-ray machine at the hospital, still in boxes gathering dust. Apparently Nap retrieved the manuals, put the machine together and got it working for them.
Back in Canada, we used to see them at least once a year as they travelled from B.C. or Saskatchewan to Lily's Newfoundland in their fully outfitted camper van. I remember how every morning before breakfast Nap used to stand on his head in our living room. He said it was good for the brain. Our 90 lb. white golden retriever, Riley, would take it as an invitation to play and knock him over, Nap all the time whooping with laughter.
Later in life they spent more of their time in Osoyoos, B.C. Nap skated even into his eighties and Lily had her choirs.
They were good people and did good works. We are better for having known them.
By Dennis Lewycky
Brian was teaching basic construction skills and helping establish a development support centre for construction cooperatives when he died. The centre was in Pemba, Mozambique and he had been sent there by CUSO in early 1988.
Before coming to Mozambique, he had worked in Sierra Leone as a CUSO volunteer teacher between 1970 and 1973. Then for a year he worked for the Department of Education in Fort Smith, Northwest Territories. Between 1974 and 1976 he was the CUSO field staff officer in Botswana.
In Canada, Brian worked as a field worker for the National Farmers’ Union and as a labourer for the City of Saskatoon at the Forestry Farm. He was active in his union, Local 59 of CUPE. Without pay or often recognition, he was very active in many activities seeking to help people living in poverty to get the social benefits due them. He was particularly known for being a strong advocate for people who were disadvantaged by the economic and political system.
He helped establish the Research, Action and Education (RAE) Centre, which was a socialist base and ally for political support for workers and farmers. “Krempien’s real gift to the RAE Centre was his consistent interest. ... he correctly saw the changes taking place in rural Saskatchewan as an instance where class struggle was taking place. He realized there were significant battles to fight and he, along with other urban activists, travelled many miles to help sort out what was happening in the farm community and how we could best respond.” (Briarpatch magazine, February 1989, p. 17)
He was instrumental in organizing the Unemployed Workers Union in 1988 in the city of Saskatoon and was known for his knowledge of the unemployment benefits system. Here he assisted unemployed workers with their job searches and in getting employment insurance. In seeking tangible and practical ways of both helping people and advancing a socialist agenda, he put his principles into practice. He wrote: “We’ve had 2 organizing meetings and are planning a public meeting for mid January to form the union. I can only write about my objectives etc as the union isn’t formed yet and we are being extremely careful in being democratic in having the membership in control of the union from the start. However, my objectives are 1. fight the false divisions between employed and unemployed and organized and unorganized, 2. advocacy work re: rights to UIC and welfare, 3. fight repossession and debt collectors, 4. changes to UIC – increase benefits and unlimited time, 5. shorter work week, and 6. decent jobs at decent wages.” (December 1983, personal letter)
One of the many other characteristics people admired in Brian was his passionate commitment to international development and the liberation of people from colonial domination. He was a founder and active member of the Saskatoon Solidarity Committee in the 1980s. At the time, the Committee was raising awareness and supporting the liberation movements fighting apartheid in South Africa. He and the committee created solidarity relations with other organizations and particularly those in the former Portuguese and British colonies of southern Africa.
Brian lived his principles. In Saskatoon he lived in a housing collective and was a member of a construction cooperative. He was always respectful of others, supported workers to take leadership positions and followed group democracy even when he had differing opinion.
As an individual, Brian was generous and social, always ready to help anyone needing assistance. On many occasions he demonstrated courage that inspired others, a no bull-shit attitude towards officials and a clear understanding of how to get things done. He had many friends and was well known in his communities. He was well read and an articulate speaker despite a speech impediment. People who know the card game Bridge admired Brian’s ability to comprehend and manoeuvre through complex plays, often baffling opponents. He had an intelligent sense of humour.
Brian died in a car accident on October 15, 1988, near Pemba. A CUSO staff person attended his funeral and wrote, “Lots of people came to the funeral. There was a very moving message from the representative of the Association for Friendship Between Peoples and a message from the Provincial Governor who was in Maputo. We all felt deeply moved by the level of support we received, which we felt was way beyond the call of duty and was a gesture of affection and respect for Brian. ... I was personally very affected by the level of support that we received. And the friendship and solidarity that everyone expressed and demonstrated: from the second highest man in the Province coming to the funeral on a blazing hot afternoon in a jacket and tie, to the simple but beautiful bunches of bougainvillea which were magic[ly brought] up from somewhere to decorate Brian’s grave. What a terrible waste of a fine person.”
Brian was teaching basic construction skills and helping establish a development support centre for construction cooperatives when he died. The centre was in Pemba, Mozambique and he had been sent there by CUSO in early 1988.
Before coming to Mozambique, he had worked in Sierra Leone as a CUSO volunteer teacher between 1970 and 1973. Then for a year he worked for the Department of Education in Fort Smith, Northwest Territories. Between 1974 and 1976 he was the CUSO field staff officer in Botswana.
In Canada, Brian worked as a field worker for the National Farmers’ Union and as a labourer for the City of Saskatoon at the Forestry Farm. He was active in his union, Local 59 of CUPE. Without pay or often recognition, he was very active in many activities seeking to help people living in poverty to get the social benefits due them. He was particularly known for being a strong advocate for people who were disadvantaged by the economic and political system.
He helped establish the Research, Action and Education (RAE) Centre, which was a socialist base and ally for political support for workers and farmers. “Krempien’s real gift to the RAE Centre was his consistent interest. ... he correctly saw the changes taking place in rural Saskatchewan as an instance where class struggle was taking place. He realized there were significant battles to fight and he, along with other urban activists, travelled many miles to help sort out what was happening in the farm community and how we could best respond.” (Briarpatch magazine, February 1989, p. 17)
He was instrumental in organizing the Unemployed Workers Union in 1988 in the city of Saskatoon and was known for his knowledge of the unemployment benefits system. Here he assisted unemployed workers with their job searches and in getting employment insurance. In seeking tangible and practical ways of both helping people and advancing a socialist agenda, he put his principles into practice. He wrote: “We’ve had 2 organizing meetings and are planning a public meeting for mid January to form the union. I can only write about my objectives etc as the union isn’t formed yet and we are being extremely careful in being democratic in having the membership in control of the union from the start. However, my objectives are 1. fight the false divisions between employed and unemployed and organized and unorganized, 2. advocacy work re: rights to UIC and welfare, 3. fight repossession and debt collectors, 4. changes to UIC – increase benefits and unlimited time, 5. shorter work week, and 6. decent jobs at decent wages.” (December 1983, personal letter)
One of the many other characteristics people admired in Brian was his passionate commitment to international development and the liberation of people from colonial domination. He was a founder and active member of the Saskatoon Solidarity Committee in the 1980s. At the time, the Committee was raising awareness and supporting the liberation movements fighting apartheid in South Africa. He and the committee created solidarity relations with other organizations and particularly those in the former Portuguese and British colonies of southern Africa.
Brian lived his principles. In Saskatoon he lived in a housing collective and was a member of a construction cooperative. He was always respectful of others, supported workers to take leadership positions and followed group democracy even when he had differing opinion.
As an individual, Brian was generous and social, always ready to help anyone needing assistance. On many occasions he demonstrated courage that inspired others, a no bull-shit attitude towards officials and a clear understanding of how to get things done. He had many friends and was well known in his communities. He was well read and an articulate speaker despite a speech impediment. People who know the card game Bridge admired Brian’s ability to comprehend and manoeuvre through complex plays, often baffling opponents. He had an intelligent sense of humour.
Brian died in a car accident on October 15, 1988, near Pemba. A CUSO staff person attended his funeral and wrote, “Lots of people came to the funeral. There was a very moving message from the representative of the Association for Friendship Between Peoples and a message from the Provincial Governor who was in Maputo. We all felt deeply moved by the level of support we received, which we felt was way beyond the call of duty and was a gesture of affection and respect for Brian. ... I was personally very affected by the level of support that we received. And the friendship and solidarity that everyone expressed and demonstrated: from the second highest man in the Province coming to the funeral on a blazing hot afternoon in a jacket and tie, to the simple but beautiful bunches of bougainvillea which were magic[ly brought] up from somewhere to decorate Brian’s grave. What a terrible waste of a fine person.”
Visiting Brian's Grave in Pemba, Mozambique
by Dennis Lewycky
It took 30 years to get here, to visit Brian’s grave. I was visiting family and friends in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, so it was only a short flight to Pemba in northern Mozambique. Brian died in a car accident on October 15, 1988 and today is February 14, 2019.
I met Brian in August 1974 when the group of us were being oriented for our assignments in Botswana. Immediately everyone fell in love with Brian. Some of us became instant friends.
Immediately after his death, I don’t think we thought too much about Brian’s grave. We all knew he wanted to be buried in Africa if he died there. His death was obviously sudden, but with hindsight not unexpected. He often travelled throughout Africa in places where risks were essential and well known. He also drank alcohol a lot and often drove his vehicles, which he and we all knew was not wise.
The important observation to make now is that his death was a major shock for so many of us who knew and loved him. He was an important person in our lives and we all suffered a major loss. In his unique way, Brian was a friend, comrade, ally and companion to so many of us in Africa and Canada. As a person, he was intelligent, compassionate, adaptable, humorous and passionately political. He was dedicated to working with and trying to help people abused by economic and political systems. While we all worked in social or international development, he was conscious of the importance of empowering people, not just helping them cope with poverty, unemployment or discrimination.
As the years passed and we started to think about Brian’s grave, we realized we didn’t know much about it. In fact, we could not speak with confidence that we knew where it was, other than in Pemba. Canadians who worked or lived in Mozambique had an idea of how he was buried, but we did not have a solid description of his location. Then decades went by and as the expression goes, life got in the way. In 2015 I was in Tanzania and tried to plan a trip to Mozambique but was frustrated by bureaucracy and insufficient time. Last year a few people who knew Brian started to consider coming to Pemba, and the result was Don Abbott and myself have come here.
See https://youtu.be/kVAqglHeRzo for a short video on the recent placement of a plaque on Brian’s grave in Pemba, Mozambique.
It took 30 years to get here, to visit Brian’s grave. I was visiting family and friends in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, so it was only a short flight to Pemba in northern Mozambique. Brian died in a car accident on October 15, 1988 and today is February 14, 2019.
I met Brian in August 1974 when the group of us were being oriented for our assignments in Botswana. Immediately everyone fell in love with Brian. Some of us became instant friends.
Immediately after his death, I don’t think we thought too much about Brian’s grave. We all knew he wanted to be buried in Africa if he died there. His death was obviously sudden, but with hindsight not unexpected. He often travelled throughout Africa in places where risks were essential and well known. He also drank alcohol a lot and often drove his vehicles, which he and we all knew was not wise.
The important observation to make now is that his death was a major shock for so many of us who knew and loved him. He was an important person in our lives and we all suffered a major loss. In his unique way, Brian was a friend, comrade, ally and companion to so many of us in Africa and Canada. As a person, he was intelligent, compassionate, adaptable, humorous and passionately political. He was dedicated to working with and trying to help people abused by economic and political systems. While we all worked in social or international development, he was conscious of the importance of empowering people, not just helping them cope with poverty, unemployment or discrimination.
As the years passed and we started to think about Brian’s grave, we realized we didn’t know much about it. In fact, we could not speak with confidence that we knew where it was, other than in Pemba. Canadians who worked or lived in Mozambique had an idea of how he was buried, but we did not have a solid description of his location. Then decades went by and as the expression goes, life got in the way. In 2015 I was in Tanzania and tried to plan a trip to Mozambique but was frustrated by bureaucracy and insufficient time. Last year a few people who knew Brian started to consider coming to Pemba, and the result was Don Abbott and myself have come here.
See https://youtu.be/kVAqglHeRzo for a short video on the recent placement of a plaque on Brian’s grave in Pemba, Mozambique.
By Cathy Beck
Meredith Lamb arrived in Kasane, Chobe District, in 1986 with an MSc and qualifications as a land use planner. She worked for the government in a district post in land planning. From what I heard, she did the job well. Meredith hailed from Manitoba, the determined daughter of an entrepreneurial family and a proud woman of the West. Her father had developed Lamb Air, a regional airline in her province, and she had been raised discussing the business. Meredith had a head on her shoulders. She was also a real dreamer, fascinated with space. She’d worked hard to qualify as an astronaut. The plan didn’t pan out. So she went after other adventures. (I see online that Meredith kept her interest in space. Celestis.com shows a memorial space flight when her husband sent Meredith’s ashes beyond the stratosphere.)
Meredith had a marked proclivity for business (she hated the National Energy Plan) yet seemed fair-minded in dealing with land applications from folks of varying backgrounds. Still I suspect the Rhodesian émigrés and ex-Zambia business owners busy developing high-end safari lodges and tourism start-ups at the time were thrilled with Meredith’s service. The luxury safari trade sure permeates Chobe now.
Meredith was about 30. The DC assigned her to a tiny, spartan, standard civil service house made of cement blocks. Her roommate was a Peace Corps teacher in his 60s. The man was kind. Unfortunately, his mind inhabited an ahistorical, explorer-esque worldview that was kind of removed from reality. I remember how enchanted he was telling us he’s been the first white person to visit a village nearby. And he was definitely not used to sharing a house with a woman.
Unmarried officers posted to Kasane in the 80s were almost all tested by the people we had to share houses with. The powers that be assigned and we had to live with it. We were in the boonies. There were no other options. So I admired Meredith for the way she navigated her living situation. A million, zillion times she wanted to tell the roommate to put the damn seat down. But she never did.
To find out about Meredith’s life after Botswana, see her obituary at https://passages.winnipegfreepress.com
Submitted by Carol Shipley, thanks to Thelma Howard, Saskatoon
Pearl and Ernie hailed from Saskatoon, where Pearl taught school and we think Ernie worked on the Dew Line construction project. Following their retirement, they went to Botswana for a couple of years, living and working in Mochudi. Pearl was a teacher; Ernie was an engineer, a welder and an enthusiastic builder of solar water heaters.
By Linda Snyder, with help from Linda Moffat and Ozzie Schmidt
Bodil Pearson and I met in 1974 on the porch of what would later become our shared home in Thamaga. Bodil had come to Botswana to ‘check it out’. It was her 50th birthday and she had agreed to come to replace Anita Hutchings the following year. Anita and Bodil had met at Sheridan College, where Bodil was launching her new mid-life career as a potter. She returned in 1975 and took on the responsibility of turning the pottery into a successful high-quality production workshop. She was such a hard-working, talented and professional potter and she did a lot to pass these skills on to the Botswelelo pottery, which continued to produce high quality, unique, marketable ceramics that so many of us still have in our houses.
Bodil was one of the most unassuming people I have known. She taught by example – her skills and her lifestyle reflected her principles and her humanity. On the other hand, she was a mean scrabble player, and many evenings we sat in our tiny kitchen in Thamaga and played Scrabble and Yahtzee. She was always a welcoming host for our many visitors.
We lived and worked together for two years until she completed her contract and took on another challenge – going to a folk college in Denmark, her original country. We met up again in Canada – her home and pottery was just outside Dundas, Ontario, not far from my family’s farm. Bodil was instrumental in setting up a network of potters in the Dundas and Hamilton area. She took up challenge after challenge in her life – when she agreed to do something she did it whole-heartedly.
When she returned to Canada she picked up the thread of her pottery life and co-founded a Studio Tour in her area of southwestern Ontario that continues as an annual event to this day. Her pottery post-CUSO incorporated some of the Thamaga influence as well as many new directions, especially in her porcelain creations.
She later gave up pottery production in Canada – it takes such a physical toll – and turned to knitting, weaving and other crafts, still based just outside Dundas.
In the 1990s she was diagnosed with cancer – and died in 1997.
Bodil was one of those people who have incredible inner strength of purpose and character. As one of the ‘older’ cooperants, she brought a wealth of life and work experience with her. She was humble and hardworking – she always tried to blend into the background when credit was being shared. I felt so fortunate to be able to live and work with Bodil. And she is still missed.
When she returned to Canada she picked up the thread of her pottery life and co-founded a Studio Tour in her area of southwestern Ontario that continues as an annual event to this day. Her pottery post-CUSO incorporated some of the Thamaga influence as well as many new directions, especially in her porcelain creations.
She later gave up pottery production in Canada – it takes such a physical toll – and turned to knitting, weaving and other crafts, still based just outside Dundas.
In the 1990s she was diagnosed with cancer – and died in 1997.
Bodil was one of those people who have incredible inner strength of purpose and character. As one of the ‘older’ cooperants, she brought a wealth of life and work experience with her. She was humble and hardworking – she always tried to blend into the background when credit was being shared. I felt so fortunate to be able to live and work with Bodil. And she is still missed.
By Linda Snyder
Sharon was the quintessential volunteer – she was half of the Ozzie and Sharon Schmidt duo. She made sure that their home welcomed all of CUSOBOT, night and day. Her kitchen and living room were always open to all homesick, troubled, lost, wandering people attached to CUSO. She had a library of books to lend, a wonderful array of music, and was a great and discreet listener.
However, Sharon had a sharp and ready wit too – well informed and engaged in the world. One of Sharon’s great contributions was in setting up the Monday Morning publication. It was more than a newsletter – more of a magazine – and although called the Monday Morning, she would share a smile and tell us all not to expect it weekly, but she would make her best efforts to get it out monthly. She set up a magazine sharing space – she ordered subscriptions of local and international magazines and ensured they circulated to a list of people who signed up. She did book reviews, found good analytical articles to include, and best of all, there was a regular column called The Embassy Chamberpot – a play on the Embassy Chambers address for the CUSO office. Sharon gathered the best gossip and news of all the comings and goings of CUSOBOTs all over the country.
Sharon and I also had a couple of wonderful road trips around Botswana – mostly she kept me company while I carted around suitcases full of Thamaga Textiles that I happily forced everyone and anyone to purchase. Early marketing strategies for those samples! Sharon hosted many parties and other gatherings at the Schmidt household – great food and drink and good music. If needed, she could also find you a corner to sleep in! Sharon and Oz shared their children with us too – when we needed a shot of family life we could borrow the kids or read them bedtime stories.
She was a good friend and we stayed in touch over the years, sharing visits in Ottawa, Halifax, Nairobi and finally in Kingston, where she died in 1997. My one regret was that she didn’t write about her observations of life; but I am very grateful to have some wonderful memories to draw on.
From Linda Moffat
I lived across the street from Ozzie and Sharon in my early months in Botswana and later saw them often as I was in and out of Gaborone. Sharon's home and personal door was always open. She was gracious, interested, knowledgeable and had a wicked wit and a lovely sense of design. Sitting on her couch with a coffee or glass of wine, music playing, was always a stimulating and comforting refuge. She was a loving and funny mother and Alan and I were among those who were happy to take 4-year-old dennis-the menace Dana off for the day or weekend. Sharon was such an anchor for the CUSO Botswana program.
From Allan Culham
Sharon was the heart and soul of the Schmidt home on Zebra Close in Gaborone. The Schmidt door was always open – with Sharon ready with a cup of coffee. She always had time (and patience!) for a chat – on any subject at any hour. For those of us who had the privilege of being able to stay in touch, the gift of Sharon just kept on giving at their subsequent homes in Kanye and Nairobi.
Writing this brought back many fond memories. She really was a wonderful person.
From Ozzie Schmidt
Sharon offered, and we field staff accepted, to edit a newsletter for the programme.
Sharon was interested in understanding the issues concerning international cooperation and development, and presented a lot of them to the readership of Monday Morning. But she abhorred the lecturing, nay, hectoring, tone practised by some within ECSA. After all, we are humans, rather than folks deemed to be on an errant path and in need of (condescending, at times) guidance from an "I know better than you" source. An example of her lively and informative style (the Comings and Goings column from Aug–Sept 1977) can be found on the Stories page of the reunion website.
Sharon cared strongly about the CUSOBOT programme, and about each of the cooperants. It was her choice to welcome so many to our guest room for an overnight stay, and that action and attitude set a sustained and important tone to the programme functioning. We formally left the CUSO fold at the end of February 1978.
The Following is an Excerpt from Jim's Obituary on the Morgan Funeral Home Website:
https://www.morganfuneral.com/memorials/james-sifton/5036150/
On October the 4th, our grampa, dad, husband, brother, and friend Jim Sifton passed away, bringing peace and comfort after struggling in recent months with pulmonary fibrosis.
Jim was born in 1948 to Bill and Margaret (née Houston) Sifton in Palmyra, Ontario. He spent his childhood on Ellistone farm with his siblings Don (Katie) and Bonnie (Steve) Walsh before going to Queens University to become a civil engineer. Soon after graduation, he met Anne (née Dickson), his wife of 49 years, and sidekick in countless adventures and travels. They volunteered with CUSO in Botswana for 2 years before they built their family life - first in Burlington, then Dartmouth, and finally in Niagara-on-the-Lake. Once in NOTL, Jim quickly became part of the community, enjoying golf games with WOOFs and the Men’s League, joining the Grantham Street Curling Club, and helping to establish the NOTL Pickleball Club. Jim would say he lived a very full life.
Jim was a natural athlete, and considered one of the friendliest players on the baseball diamond, basketball court, golf course, curling rink, and most recently the pickleball court. He would make every win look effortless. But you can be sure that when he did lose, he would spend hours analyzing what went wrong.
Jim had a quiet, unassuming nature which helped him make friends easily, but he was no pushover. He had an incredibly strong belief in doing what was right and fair. He loved deeply and was fiercely committed to supporting his family: wife Anne, kids Rob (Leah Scott) and Heather (Strahan) McCarten, grandkids Elan, Maggie, Avery, and Hayden, his siblings, nieces and nephews. He truly listened to people and made everyone he interacted with feel valued and respected, even when he struggled with his own health challenges.
But what truly set Jim apart was his methodical approach. His unspoken motto was ‘anything worth doing is worth taking an inordinately long time to do’. From his renowned lawn mowing skills and glacial pace of eating, to completing puzzles and home renovations, Jim aimed for perfection and wouldn’t be rushed.
We will profoundly miss his sense of humour, and stories of pocket hotdogs. We will miss his love of competition (though we appreciate the opportunity to finally have a chance to win). We will miss our daily comparisons of Wordle scores. And we know the good people at the CRA will miss his annual tax returns, completed with care and perfection using a pen and paper. Indeed, he will be missed by many.
SR. YVONNE MARIE TOUCANNE, SCSC (Sister Anne of the Eucharist)
Born September 17, 1910, in Paris, France Died October 9, 2011, in Calgary THEN
1972–74 and 1975–77, teacher, Francistown Teacher Training College, and part-time librarian, Botswana National Library, Gaborone |
Sister Yvonne at Paul and Kathi Kelly’s wedding, 1980
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Submitted by Carol Hollywood, MA, MLitt, Librarian & Archivist, RC Bishop of the Diocese of Calgary
She attended school at St. Louis Academy, Radway, Alberta, and St. Theresa's Academy, Medicine Hat, with the Sisters of Charity of St. Louis and decided to join the congregation, beginning with them at Medicine Hat in 1928. She made her first profession in 1931. She trained as a teacher and taught at St. Theresa's until 1953. Sr. Yvonne served in the field of education in Alberta and Saskatchewan for 35 years, completing several university degrees.
In her youth Sr. Yvonne had a desire to be a missionary in Africa. Through the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) she accepted a position at a teacher training college in Mpwapwa, Tanzania, where she taught from 1967 to 1970.
After returning to teaching in Saskatchewan again, she went back to Africa with CUSO, teaching at a teacher training college in Francistown, Botswana (1972–74 and 1975–77) and serving as part-time librarian at the Botswana National Library. From 1979 to 1982 Sr. Yvonne worked in Regina with First Nations women and in parish social justice activities. In 1985 she dedicated herself to opening and operating Sofia House (Support of Families in Affliction), a shelter for abused women and their children.
Sr. Yvonne retired to St. John's Senior Care Centre in Calgary in 2002 and in 2010, as her health declined, she became a resident of the Bethany Care Centre.
Sr. Yvonne was an SCSL for 80 years. She is remembered “for her exuberance, and 'joie de vivre', for her courage and tenacity in overcoming the obstacles to the ministries especially dear to her heart.”
by Liesl Lewke-Bogle, 2019
I also want to include my memory of the brief surprise visit we had in Milk River, Alberta. Sister Yvonne was visiting with one of her sisters of the order who had relatives here in Milk River. I had been married by that time and we had invited a couple who farmed in the Warner area for supper. When Sister Yvonne came in the door our friend Rita Albrecht said, “Oh my goodness, Sister Anne. I always wondered what you looked like without your wimple on.” Rita had attended the convent school of Medicine Hat for her high schooling when Sister Yvonne AKA Sister Anne taught there. What a coincidence to meet someone in Botswana and find the connections here in southern Alberta.
A personal note from her brother, Ken Elliott
Joany was my big sister, confidante and best friend. After we had both graduated from university we shared a house in Montreal with some friends in a sort of communal living arrangement for two years as we both embarked on teaching careers. She had a little daughter, Robin, from a brief marriage from which they had just escaped. Joany was free-thinking and adventurous, and when I suggested that maybe we should embark on a CUSO adventure together, she jumped at the idea.
She and Robin were assigned to the TTC in Lobatse while I was sent to Seepapitso Secondary School in Kanye, 30 miles or so up the road. The two-year adventure began. Joany was a friendly, positive and fun-loving person. She and Robin shared a big house at the TTC and she welcomed everyone. Weekends would find many friends and strangers camped out at her place. She was the magnet that attracted us all. One December, four of us hitchhiked to Malawi for a CUSO conference and Christmas via, then, Rhodesia and Mozambique. Four-year-old Robin was responsible for many of our lifts! That this might be considered a risky way to travel never entered her mind. They went on a number of other equally adventurous travels after that. At the TTC she was a dedicated mentor and guide for the Batswana men and women who aspired to become teachers.
Returning to Canada she and Robin settled in a small town in Quebec where she taught for another 12 years or so. She worked with handicapped children and adults with great empathy and skill. Unfortunately she discovered she had multiple sclerosis and suffered declining abilities until her death in 2000.
SOUTH AFRICANS KILLED IN THE LIBERATION STRUGGLE
by Dennis Lewycky and Sue Godt
by Dennis Lewycky and Sue Godt
ABRAM TIRO
Died February 1, 1974
Died February 1, 1974
Onkgopotse Abram Tiro, a leader of the South African Students' Organisation, was killed by a parcel bomb near Gaborone (Kgale Secondary School, south of Gaborone).
Tiro was completing an application form to continue his studies through the University of South Africa when a student handed him a parcel supposedly forwarded by the international University Exchange Programme. The parcel exploded, killing him instantly. A Bureau of State Security (BOSS) hit squad, also known as the Z-Squad, was allegedly responsible for sending him the parcel bomb. As a result, Black students boycotted lectures and their institutions were forced to shut down. Tiro's remains were exhumed by the Azanian People's Organisation (AZAPO) and his family and returned to Dinokana for reburial in 1998. |
JEANNETTE SCHOON
Died June 28, 1984
Died June 28, 1984
ROGERS (VERNON) NKADIMENG
Died May 14, 1985
Died May 14, 1985
Rogers was a 29-year-old activist and ANC member, son of ANC leader John Nkadimeng. Rogers had fled South Africa following the 1976 Soweto uprising and was living in Gaborone in 1985. He was working temporarily in the CUSO office when he was killed in a massive car bomb placed by the apartheid police. He had married another South African exile only six months before his death. His young bride was in their flat when her husband met his death.
His remains were only exhumed on January 13, 2006 and repatriated to South Africa for reburial.
His remains were only exhumed on January 13, 2006 and repatriated to South Africa for reburial.
South African Defence Force Raid, June 14, 1985
In the early morning of June 14, 1985, the South African Defence Force illegally entered Botswana and raided several homes in Gaborone. During the attack, 14 people were killed including Botswana, South African, Dutch and Somali nationals. “The Raid on Gaborone, June 14, 1985: A memorial,” a full accounting of the raid, including profiles of those killed, can be found at: http://psimg.jstor.org/fsi/img/pdf/t0/10.5555/al.sff.document.bothisp104_final.pdf
THAMSANGA 'THAMI' MNYELE
Thami was an artist who fled South Africa in 1979. He worked at the National Museum and Art Gallery in Gaborone, made and exhibited graphics, drawings, and fine arts, and organized cultural workers through MEDU Arts Ensemble. MEDU was a cultural organization that gave voice to anti-apartheid sentiments in addition to encouraging local writers and artists. Thami became a leading figure in integrating art into the struggle for liberation.
Thami was shot dead during the raid outside his home. He had expected to move to Lusaka the next day and large collections of his works that were packed into a portfolio were taken by the SADF. A week later, Security Major Craig Williamson displayed the portfolio and the works in it on SABC television, as evidence of Thami's 'terrorist' activities. To date, these works have not been recovered from the security police.
In 1990, a foundation was established in his honour in the Netherlands to advance cultural exchange between the Netherlands and artists from Africa and the diaspora.
Thami was shot dead during the raid outside his home. He had expected to move to Lusaka the next day and large collections of his works that were packed into a portfolio were taken by the SADF. A week later, Security Major Craig Williamson displayed the portfolio and the works in it on SABC television, as evidence of Thami's 'terrorist' activities. To date, these works have not been recovered from the security police.
In 1990, a foundation was established in his honour in the Netherlands to advance cultural exchange between the Netherlands and artists from Africa and the diaspora.
LINDIWE MAUDE MALAZA PLHAHLE
Lindi, a refugee from South Africa who arrived in Botswana in December 1976, was a social worker employed by the Ministry of Local Government and Lands. She was widely commended for her work. As colleagues remembered her, “She was the rarest type of social worker. She did not see people as 'cases,' she saw them as human beings.” Lindi had a beautiful voice and could have been a professional singer and she honoured others by participating in numerous MEDU events.
MIKE HAMLYN
‘Mild Mike’ was a 24-year-old draft resister from South Africa who attended the University of Botswana and was also a member of MEDU. As noted by a worker in a volunteer agency in Gaborone, “He was intelligent, politically conscious, concerned with seeing a liberated South Africa. He also had an amazing ability to act as a peace-maker in social situations. He could reconcile differing points of view.”
He was one of only two people in the history of the University of Botswana to have achieved a first-class pass in Science, and the first one ever to have obtained it in Physics. When he was awarded his degree posthumously, there was a standing ovation in his honour.
He was one of only two people in the history of the University of Botswana to have achieved a first-class pass in Science, and the first one ever to have obtained it in Physics. When he was awarded his degree posthumously, there was a standing ovation in his honour.