Kgosi e tsile

I have a vivid memory of that fateful Sunday late afternoon, in 1997. Couple of hours following my father’s younger brother’s burial, my rangwane:

In his classic Mazda pickup truck, he expertly drove my father; my brother and I; as well as the sekupu sa metsi, couple of spades, building sand and a full bag of PPC cement to the Mpuutsane cemetery – where we tidily cemented rangwane’s grave.

More importantly, I have been notified, by both my parents and also reassured by his articulate, military precession narrative, that in the glory year of 1981, just after I was born, or rather before; he is indeed The One that kindly suggested and named me Kgosietsile, which rightly translates into ”The King has arrived”.

One of my inspirations is indeed the assuring and reminding praise name in Kgosi e tsile.

Today, he will be reunited together with rangwane and my father – at the sleeping place. This time, his son, my cousin T – expertly – will be driving Mox, his other son; his nephews, my cousin Shakes and my brother Nkgotla; as well as the sekupu sa metsi, couple of spades, building sand and a full bag of PPC cement to the cemetery.

Thank you MoKwena.